King Foltest's 'genius' at the mountain pass, a direct product of Aizen's carefully planted suggestion, delivered a much-needed, if temporary, tactical victory for Temeria. The Nilfgaardian vanguard was indeed routed, their flanking maneuver utterly nullified. Morale surged through the Temerian ranks, a fragile wave of hope that momentarily defied the encroaching shadows of war. Foltest, invigorated by his perceived strategic brilliance, was more susceptible to future "insights," his confidence cementing his dependence on this inexplicable clarity. Aizen observed this predictable human response – the desperate clinging to a fleeting victory, the self-congratulatory blindness to the true forces at play – with a detached, almost clinical amusement. The stage was now set for grander illusions.
Triss Merigold, however, remained a persistent, if unwitting, irritant. Though she had dismissed her initial unease as weariness, a faint, inexplicable prickle of unease continued to linger at the periphery of her senses whenever Alaric was near. She found herself subconsciously analyzing the King's recent surge of confidence, the unnervingly 'perfect' timing of his strategic inspirations. Her magic, while powerful in its elemental fury, lacked the subtle, unseen precision of Aizen's spiritual manipulation. She instinctively knew something was wrong, but her mind, rooted in the logical, quantifiable laws of the Continent's magic, simply could not conceive of the true nature of the influence. Aizen, aware of her lingering suspicion, subtly employed low-level Kyōka Suigetsu whenever she attempted to focus on him directly, making her observations fuzzier, her thoughts drift, causing her to dismiss her concerns as the natural anxiety of wartime. He ensured she perceived only a calm, intelligent child, perhaps blessed with an unusual intuition, nothing more.
The war's escalating demands brought a new, significant player to Foltest's temporary court: General Natalis, the hardened, pragmatic commander of Temeria's armed forces. Natalis was a man of unyielding logic, meticulous planning, and profound skepticism towards anything that deviated from the quantifiable realities of military strategy. He dismissed prophecies, distrusted mages, and relied solely on cold, hard data. He was, to Aizen, an ideal challenge – a mind that required not emotional persuasion, but the careful fabrication of incontrovertible 'facts.'
Aizen began his intricate work on Natalis. He frequently positioned himself within earshot when Natalis reviewed supply manifests, troop dispositions, or battle maps. With a meticulous precision that defied his years, Aizen would subtly alter Natalis's perception of numbers, making a crucial supply deficit appear as a surplus, or an enemy scout report seem less reliable than it was. He didn't change the physical documents, merely the perception of their contents in Natalis's mind. He used Kyōka Suigetsu to highlight certain lines, dim others, or cause Natalis to momentarily 'misremember' a key figure or date, leading him to a seemingly logical but ultimately flawed conclusion.
One evening, Natalis was reviewing reports of an upcoming skirmish, debating the deployment of a crucial artillery unit. He believed the enemy would attack from the north. Alaric, unseen in the corner, subtly shifted Natalis's perception of the wind patterns noted in the reports, making them seem more favorable for an attack from the south-east, a less conventional approach. He also projected a fleeting, almost subliminal image of a key river crossing, making it appear deceptively passable for heavy equipment. Natalis frowned, then his eyes widened as he "realized" a hidden tactical opportunity. He decisively redeployed his artillery, convinced it was his own strategic insight.
Aizen observed, a faint, chilling smile playing on his lips. Natalis was a formidable mind, but even pure logic could be manipulated if the premises upon which it operated were subtly skewed. The war, a monstrous churn of human lives, was becoming a vast, uncontrolled experiment for Aizen's abilities. He saw the despair, the suffering, the inevitable defeat as merely the byproduct of a system awaiting his transcendent hand. "Primitive beings," he mused internally, "clinging to their limited perceptions, unaware they are merely reflections of a greater truth. Their 'wisdom' is but a flicker, easily extinguished or redirected."
His relentless research in Foltest's private library continued to yield tantalizing clues. He unearthed ancient tomes that spoke not only of the Conjunction of Spheres but of its true architects – beings of unfathomable power who could bend reality itself at a whim. These were not gods in the common sense, but entities that operated on a plane of existence far beyond the comprehension of mages or Witchers. He also found more explicit references to the Elder Blood's capacity for traversing dimensions, solidifying his theory about Ciri's importance. He began to theorize about how such vast power could be extracted or replicated without direct confrontation, focusing on the concept of a spiritual anchor – a core that could stabilize and contain such volatile energy.
Beyond the grand strategic manipulations, Aizen sometimes indulged in minor, controlled tests of his more primal abilities. Once, observing a particularly stubborn, rusted lock on a rarely-used side door in the castle's cellar, he focused his intent. A barely audible click echoed in the silence as the lock's internal mechanisms subtly, yet irrevocably, warped and snapped, dissolving into rust and dust from within. No physical touch. No visible magic. Just pure, precise exertion of force at a microscopic level, a silent application of rudimentary Kidō. He noted the efficacy, the chilling lack of residue. Such methods would be invaluable for infiltration and silent elimination when the time for subtlety gave way to overt action.
The drumbeats of war grew louder, the fear in the court more pronounced. But Aizen felt only a profound sense of purpose. He was not merely surviving in this world; he was mastering it. Every deception, every redirection, every subtly influenced decision was a brushstroke on the vast canvas of the Continent's future. He was carving a path not just to victory, but to transcendence. The kings and queens, the generals and mages, the very forces of nature itself – all would eventually fall under the sway of the Architect of Lies. The game was accelerating, and he was ready for its glorious, inevitable climax.