Do the names "Vilgefortz" and "Philipa" mean anything to you? If not, you're not alone.
Here's a handy guide to "The Witcher" Season 2's many supporting players.
It might seem odd that Season 2 of "The Witcher" kicked off with a portrayal of Andrzej Sapkowski
short story "A Grain of Truth" rather than diving into the overarching storyline. But
like any epic proactively engaged in political allegory, "The Witcher" saga highlights the
relative nature of right and wrong, just and unjust.
Thus, just as it does in the novels, the relationship between the cursed boar-man Nivellen and the
voracious bruxa Vereena establishes these lines and clarifies for the viewer where exactly
the boundaries are in the "Witcher" universe.
For his part, Nivellen helps establish that sexual assault and putting one's own selfish
needs before those of an entire village are both unjustifiable, unforgivable, and monstrous.
"Monsters are born of deeds done. Unforgivable ones."
As for Vereena, Geralt identifying her as a monster establishes that the murder of children
and other innocents — again, to feed one's own needs — is equally unjustifiable, unforgivable,
and monstrous.
Neither character takes up much space in either the series or its source material, but they
loom large concerning the universe's moral boundaries. As a bonus, Nivellen also introduces
the importance of love and blood in the universe and shares the story of Lara Dorren and Cregennan
of Lod, who just so happen to be Ciri's ancestors.
If there's one thing we know for sure about the history and lore of The Continent in "The
Witcher," it's that it's the product of biased propaganda masters or political agendas more
than it is actual reliable fact.
With little exception, the stories we hear about how various species, mutants, or monsters
came to be should be taken with a grain of salt. In the novels, this is Sapkowski's way
of calling out the fallibility of the history that empires, countries, and oppressive regimes
have used to justify their acts of hate and violence for centuries. In the series, it
makes for a compelling questioning of everything we think we know.
But there are two people in the universe for whom fact is an important commodity: Ellis
Codringher and his partner Fenn. In the series, they're depicted as the firm to go to when
one is in search of answers to "sensitive questions," and their dogged determination
to seek out the truth of the matter (for a price, of course) is an essential resource
in a world wherein truth is a relative notion.
"Information is power. In the wrong hands, it can be a weapon."
They may have a "pay to play" mentality, but they make their living providing undiluted,
unbiased, unaltered information …meaning they're one of the few sources on The Continent
truly immune to the kind of ulterior motives and biases that so easily manipulate reality.
They're a kind of WikiLeaks for "The Witcher" universe. Their ability to seek out and share
what's behind the curtain proves helpful (in the books, at least) in uncovering the mystery
of Ciri's lineage and destiny.
Yes, Jaskier is more than just an endearing provider of comic relief, companionship, and
ear-worms. The universe's most notorious bard is burdened with many tasks that "The Witcher's"
more obvious heroes aren't.
"I'm going to drink. I am not having this conversation unless I'm drinking."
Jaskier acts as both a portal and a proxy — a means by which the viewer or reader
can grasp the complex and intricate "Witcher" universe, and through which both showrunner
Lauren Schmidt Hissrich and author Andrzej Sapkowski can speak directly to their audience.
Often, his sarcastic quips belie a realism of response that opens the fantasy world up
to our real-world understanding. Moreover, his position as a bard allows him to provide
necessary exposition that would sound, on the lips of another character, like the kind
of forced explanations typically reserved for soap operas or police procedurals.
Finally, as he does in his conversation with the dock guard in Season 2, Episode 4, he
can dance dangerously close to the fourth wall.
"Took me to the fourth verse to understand they were different timelines."
"Oh did it? Wow."
"And that magic kiss? That was a bit cheap."
The guard's complaints about Jaskier's ballad are the same critiques that certain audience
members gave Season 1 of "The Witcher." The scene is a delightfully meta moment for the
"loveable lute player" and series' writers alike.
Jaskier may not be magical in the traditional sense of the word. Still, without his ability
to simultaneously narrate, translate, relate, relay, and reiterate, the audience would be
as lost as Jaskier usually is.
When we first meet the imposing Dijkstra in Season 2, he's taking down two traitors to
the crown of Redania — the kingdom for which he acts as the head of secret intelligence.
He convinces the king that they should stay out of the conflict between Nilfgaard and
the northern kingdoms and focus their energies on trying to take Cintra out from under the
as-yet unseen Emperor Emhyr.
In Episode 4, we not only see Dijkstra addressing some of his speech to a nearby owl, but we
also view the lead spy through the owl's eye. This cunningly informs the viewer that the
owl is an intelligent creature, not an eccentric pet. Later, we see Dijkstra plotting aloud
with the owl, trying to formulate a way to get a spy inside the Nilfgaardian-ruled kingdom.
It also becomes clear that Dijkstra has convinced the elf Dara to relay intelligence from within
the conquered Cintra. Dara also interacts with the owl in a way that would seem strange
were it not clearly more than your average bird. Viewers ultimately learn that the owl
is none other than the powerful mage Philippa, who works with Dijkstra and acts as an advisor
to the Redanian King.
Regardless of how Philippa's storyline plays out in the series vs. the books, Schmidt's
decision to show her in owl form for her first three appearances — or, the majority of
her time in Season 2 — is a wise one. In the Netflix adaptation, the viewer is constantly
being coached to question the reality or truth of what they see and hear.
Season 1 did this by giving us two different timelines that were quite obvious upon a close
watch. In Season 2, as audiences learn more and more about how illusion, lore, and biased
historical accounts operate on The Continent, Philippa's reveal acts as a reminder that
nothing is ever really as it seems.
In Season 1, Vilgefortz is depicted as a formidable, chivalrous foil to the paranoid and cowardly
(if powerful) Stregobor. Vilgefortz seeks out Yennefer's much-needed assistance in defending
the northern kingdoms from Nilfgaard at the epic Battle of Sodden.
However, in one of the last scenes of that season, we watch the warrior mage bludgeon
a soldier from his side to death for reasons we don't know. By Season 2, he moves into
the role of cunning diplomat, even convincing his ally Tissaia that if the two are to stand
a chance in taking The Chapter over from Stregobor, the controversial Yennefer should be told
to lay low, despite her heroic sacrifice at Sodden. Though it becomes clear that the mysterious
Vilgefortz has something up his sleeve,we've yet to find out exactly what that is.
Suppose the series chooses to remain faithful to its source material. In that case, we may
ultimately learn that the calculating politician and warrior is behind Lydia's bargain with
the malicious Rience. In Season 2, Rience holds Jaskier captive and attempts to use
his fire magic against both Geralt and Yennefer in his search for Ciri.
But whether or not Vilgefortz plays out in the series as he does in the novels, the political
element he represents will remain the same. By playing both sides of the conflict, Vilgefortz
is a personification of the ease with which cold, hard cunning and calculation — as
opposed to military force — can change the balance of power and alter the course of history.
As the priestess Nenneke so efficiently states in Episode 6 concerning Ciri's unasked for
and uncontrollable nature,
"She's a f---ing tinder box."
"By all means, go on."
Nenneke explains that Ciri, as a Child of Destiny, could easily go either way when it
comes to using her immense powers constructively or destructively. From both the consumptive
properties of fire energy/magic and the similar ability of the Deathless Mother to feed on
hate and despair, we know that leaning too far into these emotions can have devastating
consequences.
Ciri's experience in Cintra — the death of everyone she ever loved at the hands of
Nilfgaard — has already filled her with hate, but when she portals herself and Yennefer
to the "safety" of her former caretaker Zola's home, that hate reaches a tipping point.
In Season 1, Zola takes Ciri in, despite the princess-in-hiding having previously stolen
her horse. For the first time since her grandmother's death, Ciri is met with unconditional compassion
that makes her feel both safe and loved.
Zola showed her nothing but kindness, and when Ciri discovers that her pursuer Rience
has burned the woman and her son alive in his quest to find her, darkness washes over.
Yennefer's near betrayal exacerbates her sorrow, and by the time she rides back to Kaer Morhen,
she is filled with anger and so desperate for vengeance that the Deathless Mother has
no trouble possessing her.
Zola may not be alive in Season 2, but the sight of her remains — and what they represent
to Ciri — act as the proverbial spark to Ciri's precarious "tinder box."
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