Southwest of Vizima, on a small island in the lake, stood the Old Manor. It had once been the royal seat of administration, the most glorious place in Temeria, but many years ago, when Princess Adda's curse occurred, it had been abandoned.
Now, in a place few people paid attention to, it had become Salamandra's hideout and a demonic experimental base.
At noon, walking through the village ruins, passing through the rusting iron fence and approaching the mansion, one could hear endless wails and groans. As for the sight deeper within, even the cruelest butcher would tremble at it. Perhaps this place was the hell spoken of in fairy tales.
The Zerrikanian, Azar Javed, was making bioweapons here through inferior, mass-produced Grasses reagents.
Stepping into the alchemy room, the Professor instinctively covered his nose against the pungent smell. "Azar! That rat from Sapopan, Victor, ran to the City Guard and the Order this morning and exposed everything. ...The higher-ups have given instructions. The plan must be accelerated. It must be completed by... at the latest."
Shaking a test tube, Azar Javed glanced at the Professor and did not answer.
Seeing the mage's cold reaction, the Professor scratched his hair in boredom. "Also, your judgment was wrong. Victor survived by the skin of his teeth in the end. He did not counter-kill the mage. Looks like our Mr. Albert ran off somewhere with the results and documents!"
Those words piqued the Zerrikanian's interest. "Is that so? The people sent to investigate came back so quickly?"
"No! The kid who reported the case said it himself. But I think it's pretty credible. If he had counter-killed the mage, there's no reason he wouldn't be willing to say it. If there were documents as evidence instead of empty words, the pressure on us now would be even heavier. Also, the person pulling strings behind him should be Keira Metz. Triss has been going out often lately and hasn't been around."
After listening to the Professor, Azar put down the test tube, crossed his arms, and fell into thought.
...
In the afternoon, at the Hairy Bear in the Temple Quarter, Victor, Geralt, and Dandelion sat at the bar drinking and chatting. At a moment like this, when old friends reunited, Vizima Champion was the obvious choice to start with.
After finishing a mug of beer, the topic extended to their respective preferences, pepper vodka, Beauclair white wine, and warm milk. Over mashed potatoes and sliced pork in sauce, they casually exchanged stories of what had happened after they parted.
There was no need to say much about the bard. After parting ways in Skellige, he had wandered all over the place looking for new muses. That could be understood as moving from one bed to the next. What was worth mentioning was that in Novigrad, he had met a special young woman, and she was also a bard.
Holding up his wineglass in his right hand to toast Geralt and pulling Victor with his left hand, Dandelion's eyes were hazy. "You... you have no idea how beautifully she sings lyric songs! If you ever have the chance to go to Novigrad, you absolutely must visit the Kingfisher Inn and listen to it. Priscilla's With You is truly incredible! ...Of course, The Wolven Storm is even better, because I wrote it!"
The witcher clinked cups with him, then the young man also joined the toast. After finishing that cup, the bard's eyes went straight and fixed on the mashed potatoes as he sank into philosophical contemplation. Presumably, he needed to slow down for a while.
Shaking his head with a laugh, Geralt, whose tolerance for alcohol was far better, turned and raised his cup to Victor. "Thank you, Vic."
They clinked cups and drank deeply. The young man's milk mustache was streaked white. "For what?"
Geralt patted his sword and leather armor. "For these magic items, Leo's Trial of the Grasses, and... for the concern you and Angoulême showed me..." Toward the end, the witcher's tone carried a trace of guilt, for having let the girl's goodwill down.
The young man waved his hand. "...It's fine. Don't mind it. When the lass told me, she had already thought through what you meant. So, did you gain anything during this period of traveling alone?"
With a self-mocking smile, Geralt tilted his head back and drained the wine in his cup, then began telling him about what he had encountered recently.
Originally, while he was in the outskirts, he wanted to complete the Reverend of the Eternal Fire's task and obtain a pass in the proper way.
But after learning that a spiritual monster called a Hellhound would hound sinners, the Reverend brought people to surround the herbalist's house, declaring that the sinner was the witch Abigail and that she had to be dragged out and burned to death. At the time, the little boy Alvin was also inside the house.
Terrified by the villagers' roaring, Alvin suddenly vanished without a trace. Then Geralt arrived in time and was forced to hold a heated conversation with the villagers using his sword.
Hearing this, Victor finally understood the reason behind the strange atmosphere in the outskirts before, and the faint hostility toward strangers.
After a bloody clash ended and several radicals passed on, the herbalist also chose to leave for another land.
Geralt obtained the pass from the Reverend's corpse. Then, when he entered the city, he was recognized as a witcher. Captain Vincent hired him to work with Rose Knight Siegfried and exterminate the cockatrice in the sewers.
After completing the task and leaving, the little boy Alvin suddenly appeared beside him again. Thus Geralt brought Alvin with him and moved into Triss's home.
Finally, his recent situation was that the witcher was now tracking Salamandra's higher-ups with the help of the famous detective Raymond Maarloeve.
The bard finished being dazed and lay on the table for a short nap. Meanwhile, the young man sorted out the essential points above from the witcher's words. The useless parts would be omitted here. All that could be said was that Geralt had not betrayed his hidden title, the Stud of Rivia... The lecherous witcher had been living unusually well.
After comparing both sides, Victor's information on Salamandra was actually about the same as Geralt's. At most, he could help supplement some background details, so the young man casually picked out a few things Geralt might be interested in and shared them.
As they chatted, the young man suddenly thought of something inconsistent in the White Wolf's account. What exactly was going on with that little boy Alvin? He had suddenly disappeared, then suddenly appeared again... Just as Victor was preparing to ask,
"By Melitele's beard, Geralt, I never thought I'd see you again in my lifetime, and alive, no less!"
The familiar booming voice belonged to Zoltan Chivay. He happily walked toward the three of them. Glancing at Geralt's puzzled, uncomprehending expression, Victor opened his mouth and explained the situation to them, then introduced them to each other.
Next, the dwarf took the young man's place and began educating the White Wolf on how the two of them had formed a deep friendship amid the flames of war back then.
Checking the time, Victor saw that it was almost evening and waved to the owner.
The Hairy Bear's owner, Griffarin, approached with his belly out. "Long time no see, mercenary who doesn't want to cause trouble. You came back specially to cause trouble this time, didn't you?"
"Hahahaha, for Dr. Shani's sake, save your jokes for the next lucky customer! Clear a big table for us. She'll be here soon," Victor said with a smile.
Without hesitation, Griffarin's boxer-like jaw worked. "Dr. Shani!? One table is enough? Do you need me to clear out the whole place?"
His attitude was very serious. The young man shook his head with a smile. "We're here to relax. A lively place is what makes it lively. One big table, thank you."
The owner nodded and left to make arrangements.
After finishing his milk, Victor looked toward the door. Last night, Angoulême had said that once Shani got off work, she would come to the Hairy Bear with her and drink with Zoltan. His senior wanted to meet this interesting dwarf.
The conversation by his ear continued. The dwarf was telling the story of how he and the witcher had fought side by side in Rivia against a mob. Presumably, he would soon explain how Geralt had died heroically.
The tavern door was pushed open.
"Zoltan! I'm here!" Seeing the person from afar, Angoulême immediately shouted.
The dwarf also instantly jumped down from his chair with a thud and strode over in two steps. "Oh, my lass, come here and let old Zoltan take a look. Have you gotten thinner?"
Victor waved to her, and Shani waved to him.
...
At night, in the deepest room at the end of the Hairy Bear's second-floor corridor, the usual dining table stood in the center, covered with delicacies carefully prepared by the chef.
The main dishes were fragrant roasted basil chicken thigh steak, lightly fried stuffed duckling, baked tender wild boar loin, and beef stewed in Metinna red wine. The sides were a large basin of mashed potatoes, small round bread with matching Ban Ard butter, Karyas cabbage soup, and pumpkin sweet biscuits for dessert.
Pushing open the door, the young man sat down at the dining table and folded the napkin over his lap.
"It has been a while, Mr. Ramsmeat." He naturally raised a Vizima Champion in toast.
The boss of Ramsmeat's gang spat out a bone with a pff and raised his cup to drink with him. "Victor, where did you learn your table manners? The whole set looks pretty convincing, but shouldn't the napkin be tied around your neck?"
Spearing a piece of baked tender wild boar loin, Victor put it in his mouth. The sauce was rich and fragrant, and juice burst out as he chewed. "A habit from back home. Don't mind it. Why did you invite me up?"
Ramsmeat wiped his mouth with the napkin tied around his collar. "Nothing much. I heard an old friend was downstairs, so I invited him up for a chat."
Victor took a sip of beer, acting as if he had heard nothing, then continued attacking the beef stewed in Metinna red wine.
How rude! Seeing this, the subordinate standing behind Ramsmeat immediately wanted to scold him, but Ramsmeat raised a hand and stopped him.
Leaning back tactically, he said, "I want to talk about Salamandra. I heard that you went to the City Guard station today and reported that they are conducting terrorist experiments." As he spoke, the long, twisted scar winding across his head was quite eye-catching.
Lifting a corner of the napkin to wipe his mouth, Victor looked up and met his gaze. "That's right! They are conducting extremely vicious experiments that could produce very dangerous... creatures."
"Thank you for what you did."
"If you want to thank me, give me some alchemy materials! For example, Zerrikanian incendiary powder and the like."
Ramsmeat said, "I will do my best to satisfy your needs, but there is one more thing I need you to know, regarding the Scoia'tael outside the city."
"I don't know them," Victor interrupted in a single sentence, his face as still as water.
The boss of Ramsmeat's gang raised his hand and pressed it down. "Don't rush! And don't misunderstand. I only want to share intelligence with you. Let me finish, then you can do whatever you want afterward."
After receiving the young man's silent approval, his tone turned heavy. "You just came back, so perhaps you haven't noticed yet, but recently the conflict between humans and nonhumans in the city has been getting more and more intense. Meanwhile, the Scoia'tael outside the city keep fanning the flames, and they seem to be providing weapons as well.
"The situation now is worse than ever before. I think there is a possibility of a large-scale riot. When that happens, the human community will certainly suffer damage, but once they react and begin suppressing it, the nonhumans won't have it easy either..."
...
Some time later, Victor walked down the stairs. Ramsmeat had clearly been making a last-ditch attempt, or rather, grasping at straws, doing everything possible to avoid a riot breaking out.
Before entering the city, Zoltan's encounter in the outskirts replayed in his mind. At that time, without his help, the dwarf with the mohawk probably still would have won, but if it had been another dwarf, the consequences would have been hard to predict.
Perhaps it really would only have ended with his beard being shaved off, an insult comparable to being cuckolded, but one could not rule out the violence escalating, even to the point of bloodshed.
Originally, whether there was a riot or not could be said to have nothing to do with Victor. He was only a villager from Bell Town passing through. He did not care what happened to Temeria!
But he thought of the grand wish he had made not long ago. Considering that Velen might become a miserable world, he would lend Temeria a hand within his ability and help it avoid destruction.
And now, from the looks of things, if this affair truly grew serious, perhaps it would become the main cause of the kingdom's fall. After all, fortresses are always broken from within.
Not to mention there was also Keira Metz to consider. Although last time he had eventually angered her into leaving, she had once been willing to take risks to help him. That could be called more than generous. Every time he thought back on it, he could not help feeling a little happy.
To judge a person, one should not listen to what she said, but look at what she did. Judging from her actions, the sorceress ought to be counted as a friend no matter what, ...a good friend.
He should go to the swamp area and talk with Yaevinn. At the very least, he should ask whether this was routine harassment or whether they truly intended to start a riot. Considering how Yaevinn had tricked him last year and forced him to flee Vizima, asking him to provide an answer should not be a problem.
Looking around, in the lively Hairy Bear, only Geralt remained at their original table. A familiar face had joined him across the table, Madam Carmen. She occasionally appeared here to begin with, so she was probably here to ask additional questions about the details of lifting the curse. Victor thought nothing of it.
Turning in another direction, he saw that Zoltan, Angoulême, and Shani were all playing dice poker with other customers, shouting loudly whether they won or lost.
Looking at his senior's flushed, smiling face, the young man stepped forward, wanting to join them. Unfortunately, Dandelion's face had already blocked his path.
The bard grabbed Victor and indicated that he had something to say, so the two of them walked outside. Tonight, the moon was still full.
Standing beneath the starry sky, the bard rested a hand on the railing, striking a pose and brewing the atmosphere, but Victor had no intention of indulging him. The chance to play dice with Shani was rare.
"If you have nothing to say, I'm going back in!" After saying that, the young man turned and was about to return, but Dandelion hurriedly reached out and grabbed him again.
"You know what I want to say!"
"I know, but I've already made up my mind about this!"
"I want to share with you a truth of life as your senior!"
"I don't want to hear it. Your life is a complete mess!"
The bard was left speechless by the retort... but his hand did not let go, and Victor did not shake him off either.
After a while, "I remember... last year, you said you wanted to mutate because you wanted to have the right to say 'no' to anyone! Is that still the same reason?"
"Mm. That is still the main reason, but this year I have a more concrete goal..." He paused briefly.
Then, under Dandelion's gaze, Victor calmly said, "If I encounter unquestionable evil, I want to have the strength to cut evil down!"
"You want to uphold justice for the world?"
"No... don't misunderstand. I just want to cut people down!"
The bard paid it no mind, only taking the young man as joking.
Holding Dandelion's arm in return, Victor dragged him back into the Hairy Bear.
At this moment, in the lively tavern, the master of ceremonies was energetically introducing the powerful championship candidates and challengers in tonight's fistfighting tournament. His exaggeration had not diminished since back then. Then Victor was surprised to discover that Geralt had stepped onto the ring. The one about to fight him was a boxer called Butterbean!
Letting go of Dandelion, he went forward and pulled Shani along, smiling as he sidled up to the betting taker.
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