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Book from the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt provide opinion of random salamander who was at Loc Muinne summit.
- I was at Loc Muinne – that's right, the summit of summits itself. We'd gone there, my troupe mates and I, knowing there'd be a meeting of the mighty in the ruins. You see, whenever big shots gather to chew some particularly gristly fat, there's coin to be had for performing men like us – tired jaws need to relax with some laughing and indulging in other sorts of simple delights. I learned this as a lad from my old man, who'd drag me around to juggle outside courts and conventions all over the Continent. And so now, plying my own trade as a fire swallower, I told the lads up soon as I caught word of what was brewing in Loc Muinne and we turned our wagons thataway at once.
- I'm not much one for politics, but I couldn't help but listen to some of it this time – you see, we Temerians had just lost our king, and our future was to be decided at that very summit, with John Natalis representing our side in the matter. Radovid was there, too, a young pup then, though emanating strength like a grey-haired alpha wolf. It seemed this wolf was licking his chops over Temeria like it was a bit of ripe carrion...
- The rest was dull – a lot of talk about the uprising in Aedirn and its leader, Saskia, who they called the Virgin – though I never got the chance to check personally whether that was accurate. The Nilfgaardians had a delegate, some Shilard fellow, and mages were there, talking about restoring the Conclave and Supreme Council of Sorcerers.
- I didn't listen to much of that – my eyes were glued to the unusually large number of armed troops present at these "peaceful" talks. Steel-plated grunts clenched pointy weapons and paced the ruins' courtyards everywhere you looked. Radovid had even brought the knightly Order of the Flaming Rose, those arrogant pricks ready to bash anyone who doesn't think the same as them. Though the coin was coming in amply, we didn't wait around to see how things would develop, just loaded our stuff onto our wagon and left at a trot. As we mounted the pass, we looked back to see pillars of smoke, black as pitch, rising above Loc Muinne...