When Victor was drifting about the South without a fixed destination, several sorceresses in the North happened to discuss him. Through megascope transmission, it was a familiar video meeting and the customary contest of beauty.
The crystals at the tops of three brass pillars formed a triangular magic array, conjuring a mirage that allowed them to speak face-to-face with people far away.
Five people attended today's meeting. They were Philippa Eilhart, the Jewel of the Court at Tretogor; Síle de Tansarville, royal advisor to Kaedwen; Francesca Findabair, duchess of Dol Blathanna and the "Daisy of the Valley"; Fringilla Vigo, the "Honourable Lady" of Toussaint; and Keira Metz, royal advisor to Temeria.
The one speaking was Kaedwen's royal advisor, Síle. Lady Tansarville was wearing black velvet as usual today, along with pearl accessories. Behind her was a rigid laboratory. "...Victor Corion. He is both a knight of Skellige and has met Radovid and Foltest in succession. He is also a witcher with quite a good reputation.
"If he appears before Demavend, the king and his guards will not be too wary. With the magical support I provide, after considering many plans, his chance of success is the highest. He is the best choice to carry out this operation!"
Philippa Eilhart, with black hair and brown eyes, folded her arms and shook her head. "I agree with your view, but I'm afraid it won't be that simple. I have met that young man. He looks very easygoing, but deep down, he is extremely opinionated. I do not believe he will obey our demands."
Fringilla Vigo of the Duchy of Toussaint continued in a gentle voice, "I met that child not long ago. I agree with Philippa's view. He is no fool, and his vigilance is extremely strong. Using him is almost impossible."
Síle gave a cold smile. "As long as I can meet him, he will not refuse me. Ladies, no one can refuse me without paying a price. If either of you doubts that, I have the right to feel offended!"
Keira Metz pursed her lips and did not speak to refute her, but she knew Victor would absolutely not agree to Síle's demand. And if anyone dared threaten him, the witcher, who responded to softness but not force, would definitely try to kill the other party. However, there was no need to state that fact now and pointlessly establish a powerful enemy for Victor. She planned to find a chance to warn him privately to be careful.
Today's Fringilla wore hunting clothes, with only a disc set with aquamarines decorating her body. The background looked like a palace bedroom.
She waved her hand. "No offense intended. But I'm sorry, I cannot provide support. I am currently in the City of Golden Towers. Dear Emhyr var Emreis summoned me here. Moreover, Victor left his manor a month ago and has been wandering all over the duchy without a fixed residence. Right now, no one knows where he is!"
Síle froze. She had originally thought the situation was practically certain, but had not expected these changes.
"I know where he is. He was in my tent before. We spent two weeks together..." Keira thought. "Every day, he would get up early and fry soft eggs and slightly charred bacon for me. After breakfast, we would study mutations together, and then we would make love.
"At lunch, the beef bourguignon he made was truly superb. After the meal, he would ask about questions he didn't understand, and then we would make love.
"At night, we usually continued making love. Occasionally, we would first walk by the river or admire the moon on the grass, then go back and make love... Tsk! Thinking about it makes me angry. Where exactly did he learn all those filthy tricks?"
"Keira, do you have a way to find him? Didn't you get acquainted in Vizima before? Could it be that he didn't fall at your feet?" Síle's question interrupted her fantasies about making love.
The little blonde touched her nose. "Regrettably, I didn't establish any private relationship with him. Also, allow me to state my position. Although I support your nation-building plan, there are parts of it I dislike, apart from that idiot Demavend III! Please do not expect me to respond actively, especially when Francesca is also participating."
Síle's expression changed, and she opened her mouth to scold her, but Philippa spoke first to smooth things over. "It's fine. I can understand your thoughts. The pain of a broken leg and the dead are indeed not easy to forget. But we all have to look forward. You must understand that she is now our sister."
The reason Keira disliked Francesca stemmed from the Thanedd Island incident several years ago, which had caused the sorcerer community to split. At that time, Francesca and Keira had belonged to different camps, the South and the North respectively.
The mages who had switched allegiance to Nilfgaard and the traditional mages loyal to the Northern Kingdoms had both tried to purge the other side's influence. The result had been mutual ruin, causing the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to fall apart.
By betraying the sorcerer community, and with the Vrihedd Brigade afterward, Francesca Findabair won Emperor Emhyr's favor. He granted her the land of Dol Blathanna, allowing the "Daisy of the Valley" to rebuild the elven duchy.
Keira could understand it, but she disliked her way of doing things very much. It was too cold!
Philippa, of course, did not completely trust Francesca either. But political animals had no eternal enemies, only eternal interests! Considering that her territory in Dol Blathanna had been taken by Emperor Emhyr from Demavend III, the death of the king of Aedirn completely aligned with elven interests.
The place she was in was a cave-dwelling, a structure usually found in dwarf settlements built into mountains. Although it was an underground cavern, the high vaulted ceiling did not feel oppressive. If Victor saw it, he would recognize at a glance that it was the design of Vergen.
"I believe there is no need to explain. Keira, you are also very clear that in this matter, we need the assistance of local elves from Aedirn. Francesca's intelligence is absolutely necessary!
"And Francesca, I must thank you for your arrangements. Vergen's future ruler, 'Saskia the Dragonslayer,' is indeed a very interesting person. I am very willing to assist her in building a nation."
Francesca, the "Daisy of the Valley," bowed slightly in return.
While Philippa restored order, Síle's anger also dissipated considerably. She calmed down and continued, "Then never mind. Since there is no way to find Victor Corion, we can only settle for the next best thing and use the backup candidates."
Francesca lightly clapped her hands twice. "As expected of the meticulous Síle de Tansarville. I hope to know the detailed situation you have prepared. Demavend is a king, after all, and has countless protective measures around him. I believe there are many details I can help adjust."
"Of course, but since there is someone here who is not actively participating, I believe that for the sake of secrecy, perhaps we can find another time to discuss this matter." When Síle spoke, her eyes glanced toward Keira.
The blond sorceress frowned and looked at Philippa Eilhart. "Phil, since someone here doesn't welcome me, I'll leave first. I'm very sorry about what happened in Redania, but I believe you will certainly achieve success in Vergen. If you need private help, you know how to find me."
After saying that, Keira Metz directly cut off the megascope transmission.
Síle de Tansarville shrugged. "Since the person standing by has taken the initiative to leave, let us continue the discussion! The candidates I have prepared are three witchers I met in Aedirn..."
...
The sorceresses' meeting continued, while on the other side, in the Temerian court, Keira, who had closed the communication, thought about it. Since Síle could not find Victor, this matter had little to do with her.
However, thanks to that "love-starved old woman," when she thought of that little bastard, her heart now felt as if there were a feather gently tickling it. It felt a little itchy!
...
At the same time, in the far South, his nose suddenly feeling a little itchy, the witcher Victor Corion sneezed several times in succession, reasonably suspecting that the thick dust inside the house was the cause.
Caroberta Woods, the ruins of Trastamara Estate. Even in a sunlit place like the Duchy of Toussaint, there were corners the light could not reach, and this abandoned estate was clearly one of them.
Wiping away the dust on the window glass, he could see barghests still patrolling nearby. These monsters, abundant in the outskirts of Vizima, were incarnations of curses or malice. Wherever they appeared, it meant that evil must have occurred there.
Considering their numbers, killing them would be troublesome, and the materials obtained would be of little value. Victor simply detoured and snuck directly into the manor's main building to investigate the lair of the "spoon-stealing monster."
Although it was daytime, fog filled the air, and it was dim. The witcher drank a Cat potion and activated his enhanced vision to investigate clues.
Spoons were hanging everywhere inside the house. Divided by material, there were wooden spoons, iron spoons, silver spoons, and golden spoons. The various spoons could also be differentiated by size and price according to their patterns. This monster could indeed be considered a spoon collector.
Entering the dining room, he saw eerie words written prominently on the wall. "No one will sit and dine with you. No spoon you have shall sate you. Never again shall you wish to look upon your reflection in the mirror."
Approaching these words, he sensed the magical School of the Wolf medallion vibrating cheerfully, meaning the words were cursed.
Lightening his steps and observing the distribution of dust, Victor followed the handprints by the fireplace and found a stained diary. The name on the cover was "Marlene de Trastamara."
After briefly flipping through the diary's contents, the summary was that one day, a beggar had come to the estate begging for food. After being refused, he uttered a curse. Not long afterward, she discovered that hair had begun growing on her chest. From secretly seeking help to finally falling into despair, it recorded the process of watching herself helplessly transform into a monster.
At this point, Victor could basically confirm that the actual situation did not deviate too much from his memories of his previous life. And reading the later sections, feeling how she had gradually lost the ability to think and written down words with fragmented consciousness, made one feel even more sorrowful.
...
I cannot think. Writing is getting harder and harder.
Lonely. No family...
Eat. I want to eat. No good spoons. The soup bowls are all empty.
Nothing. Can eat. Pain...
Mirror. Lies. Do not want.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
...
The three lines written on the wall were clearly curses directed at the victim, Miss Marlene. Comparing them with the symptoms she suffered, the prophet Victor clearly understood that the correct method of lifting the curse should be explained like this.
"'No one will sit and dine with you,' no one is willing to dine with her after she became a monster, find someone who willingly sits at the same table and dines with her.
"'No spoon you have shall sate you,' she cannot eat with a spoon, so she cannot use a spoon while eating.
"'Never again shall you wish to look upon your reflection in the mirror,' a mirror cannot reflect her appearance, but if she drinks soup without using a spoon and lifts the soup plate to finish it, she will just so happen to see herself reflected in the plate."
In other words, as long as he found Marlene, voluntarily ate with her, and did not use a spoon but lifted the plate to drink the soup, he could lift her curse.
With a plan in mind, the witcher followed the dusty footprints to the kitchen. His enhanced senses confirmed that the monster, Miss Marlene, was not here.
As expected, only her large pot had been left on the stove. Victor leisurely wandered over to the pot and leaned forward to look at what was being cooked inside.
A sudden wave of nausea rose in him. Victor discovered that he had made a huge mistake! He had unconsciously overlooked the most fundamental point of lifting the curse, he had to drink a bowl of soup with her...
The problem was that this bowl of soup... was not so easy to drink. One had to know that the monster Miss Marlene had become was a spotted wight, a close relative of ghouls.
This pot of green, viscous unknown substance was mostly her saliva. The stench was only the basic element. There were definitely many unknown substances inside as well. One mouthful would be full of unspeakable mysterious surprises.
Although with his perfect witcher constitution, drinking it would definitely not kill him, at most, his cheeks would heat up, and in the worst case, he would get Sage Body markings on his face. But drinking this kind of thing truly challenged one's psychological limits.
Victor hesitated over whether to turn and leave, pretending he had never come. At worst, he could go back and notify Master Geralt, spend money to hire him for a business trip, and have him come to Toussaint to down this bowl of thick soup?
Amid his hesitation, the thumping footsteps quickly approached. Looking around and finding nowhere to hide, the witcher helplessly came face-to-face with the monster.
She was emaciated like a skeleton, her pupils white and lifeless, with the standard bulging fangs and zombie claws. She was draped in a tattered linen shroud. To be honest, the spotted wight that Miss Marlene had become was truly not something one dared compliment. It was the sort of appearance that would give people nightmares! Not being able to see herself in a mirror might count as the curse-maker's mercy!?
The spotted wight entered the kitchen and discovered someone standing steadily beside the pot without the slightest fear. On the contrary, she was badly startled and retreated several steps in succession, roaring tentatively and waving her claws.
There was no fear, only pity.
With a sigh, the witcher took two soup plates from the side and placed them beside the pot. Then he pointed at the large pot, cautiously circled around the wight's position, and sat down at the dining table within her line of sight, picking up a spoon and gesturing with it in his hand.
She tilted her head and stared at the person seated at the table for quite a while. Strange clacking sounds came from her throat. Then she picked up the ladle, filled one plate with dark green soup, and slowly handed it to him.
After confirming that Victor had taken the thick soup and placed it before himself, the spotted wight quickly filled a plate for herself as well. Then she leapt to the table with a thump and prepared to eat.
Looking at the foul-smelling dark green liquid in the soup plate, the hand holding the spoon trembled violently. Although his compassion had overflowed just now, and he had sat down at the table in a moment of heated impulse, if he really drank this bowl of stuff, would it be worse than death? Should he simply knock her down with Aard and run?
During his inner struggle and battle between heaven and man, just as he could not delay any longer, he suddenly noticed... this bowl of soup was hot!?
In an instant, Victor's spiritual power rose sharply. His shining resolve was more brilliant than the golden sun. With sudden inspiration, he placed the spoon into the soup, and inconceivable alchemy, "combat alchemy," activated!
This was a sublimation beyond the self. The alchemist Victor Corion, for the first time while not in his fiery-red-eyed state, used the extremely consuming combat alchemy. Through the result of his high-level control, the rainbow light was fully restrained, with almost no signs leaking outward.
Revealing a satisfied smile, he first shook the spoon left and right, then let go and allowed the spoon to fall onto the table. Victor lifted the soup plate as a demonstration and, in one breath, gulped down the pure water that did not contain the slightest impurity, one hundred percent H2O.
The spotted wight followed his example as well. She threw away the spoon, lifted the soup plate, and gulped down the dark green soup.
Finally, the instant she finished drinking, through the bottom of the emptied soup plate, Miss Marlene saw herself once again. The curse's three conditions were reversed at last. She let out an ear-piercing scream, flung away the soup plate, and fell to the ground, rolling. At the same time, the witcher's School of the Wolf medallion also shook violently, responding to the magical aftershock of the curse being lifted.
Not long afterward, Victor took a cloak from his herbal satchel and wrapped it around the disheveled Miss Marlene. Although she was very thin and weak, she was still a young lady in her twenties. One should not look where one should not!
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810