The tension in Dravograd became a tangible entity, thick enough to taste in the dusty air. Reports of Nilfgaard's devastating victory at the Battle of Marnadal reached the city, bringing with them a wave of fresh refugees, their faces etched with horror. The Northern Kingdoms, once dismissive, were now in disarray, their fractured alliances proving as brittle as dry twigs. To Aizen, it was a magnificent spectacle of predictable human folly, a perfect storm brewing for his next calculated move.
He had spent weeks delving deeper into the Scriptorium's most hidden archives, unearthing forgotten rituals and arcane lore connected to elemental manipulation at a grand scale. One particular collection of scrolls, bound in dried monster hide, detailed a series of complex geomantic rites once performed by ancient, forgotten druids. These rites, it claimed, could subtly alter weather patterns, influence crop yields, or even cause minor tremors. Aizen saw past the ancient superstitions to the underlying truth: a rudimentary, yet potentially powerful, method of influencing vast swaths of the Continent. It was a macro-level manipulation, far more subtle than Kyōka Suigetsu, but with far-reaching consequences.
His network of controlled pawns in Dravograd was now robust. Torvin's merchant empire, subtly steered by Aizen, had inadvertently monopolized the city's supply of crucial wartime resources – iron ore, salted provisions, and healing herbs. Captain Roric, his authority unchallenged, ensured the city's defenses were meticulously maintained in all the wrong places, diverting manpower and attention from vulnerabilities Aizen might later exploit. Lord Valerius, back in Temeria, continued to champion aggressive policies that further exacerbated the inter-kingdom distrust, blissfully unaware of the true source of his "brilliant" ideas.
Aizen decided it was time for a more direct, yet still unseen, intervention in the broader political landscape. He needed to amplify the existing chaos, to shatter the fragile trust between the Northern monarchs even further.
His target: King Demavend of Aedirn, a proud but notoriously paranoid monarch. Aizen knew from his readings that Demavend harbored deep suspicions of King Foltest of Temeria, despite their nominal alliance against Nilfgaard.
One late evening, as a small, vital courier convoy from Aedirn passed through Dravograd, carrying sensitive diplomatic dispatches, Aizen acted. He didn't engage them directly. Instead, he employed a refined, multi-sensory Kyōka Suigetsu on the chief courier and his two most trusted guards. He subtly warped their perception of reality over several tense hours.
He made them 'see' phantom riders lurking in the shadows outside the city walls, figures that bore the distinct, tell-tale emblems of Temerian scouts. He caused them to 'hear' whispers on the wind, seemingly from unseen assailants, discussing specific, fabricated plans to intercept and steal their dispatches, mentioning Demavend's "weakness" and Foltest's "ambition." He intensified their existing paranoia, transforming vague anxieties into concrete, terrifying "evidence" of betrayal.
The courier, arriving days later in Demavend's court, was a frantic mess. He passionately recounted the "attack" by Temerian agents, the specific details of their overheard conversation, and the clear intent to sabotage Aedirn's diplomatic efforts. The dispatches, untouched but now viewed through a lens of profound suspicion, confirmed Demavend's worst fears. No proof of physical contact was needed, only the seeds of absolute conviction planted by Aizen's flawless illusion.
The immediate ripple was palpable. Aedirn's diplomatic ties with Temeria strained to a breaking point. Letters of outrage flew between the two kingdoms, followed by subtle military mobilizations along their shared borders. The unity, so desperately needed against the encroaching Nilfgaardian Empire, fractured further.
Aizen, miles away in Dravograd's Scriptorium, absorbed the news with a serene smile. He was not merely observing the Continent's descent into chaos; he was orchestrating it. Each fracture, each mistrust, was another opportunity. The great leaders of this world were nothing more than puppets, their strings being pulled by an unseen hand. The grand performance, he knew, was only just beginning.