"Dear Master Levassieur,
I know you have made your living for many years by hunting down fugitive criminals. I respect and understand your wealth of experience, so I have an unusual commission for you. You may be wondering why I am explaining this in writing, and why we cannot meet in person.
The truth is… in my present condition, appearing in person is very dangerous, not for me, but for the person who meets me. Let us leave that aside. The heart of the problem is that I may have fallen victim to a curse, or it may be a side effect of medicine a herbalist once gave me. I hope it is the latter, and that is why I have sought your help.
Not long after I visited her, she disappeared without a trace. I desperately wish to cure my strange illness, so I would like your help. I want you to find a woman who once made her living here by selling herbs.
Once you find her, ask her about the herbs she prescribed me, in as much detail as possible. If my suffering is her doing, force her to hand over the antidote. You will not regret it. I am very wealthy, and I will not be stingy with your reward.
If my suffering has nothing to do with this herbalist, let her go, because that will mean I am under the influence of a dreadful curse, and only the gods can relieve my pain. This curse must have been placed by a vagrant who came to my estate one evening while I was entertaining friends.
If you find that vagrant, I will double your reward. Unfortunately, as for the vagrant's features, all I remember is that he sold mirrors. I know the information is vague, but it is better than nothing. I trust in your professional skill. Good luck."
Respectfully,
Marlene de Trastamara
…
Utterly unlike the abandoned Trastamara Estate, every pane of glass in Corion Estate's windows shone bright and clear enough to see the view outside.
Today was the graduation day for the fifth class of the estate guard training camp. The chief instructor, Lady Angoulême, was fully armed and in high spirits as she commanded everyone through the final triathlon test.
The sight of men sweating under the sun reminded the master of the estate of his vanished youth. Of course, he had no intention of joining them. One beautiful memory was more than enough.
He lifted his black tea and took a sip. The bacon was crisp, the cheese rich and fragrant. Victor was enjoying breakfast in the spacious dining room at home.
Across from him, Madam Marlene was eating under Alfie's care. She was still very weak. Her body, tormented by a vicious curse and unfed for over a hundred years, needed time to recover.
Victor sighed inwardly. Lifting Marlene de Trastamara's curse might be the beginning of another stretch of pain for her. Her family and friends had all passed away, leaving the poor old woman alone in the world.
Fortunately, Alfie, a true model of what a butler should be, had taken over. Otherwise, Victor really only knew how to save people. He had neither the patience nor the knack for handling the care that came afterward.
His eyes returned to the letter in his hand. A few days ago, after breaking the curse at Trastamara Estate, he had been carrying the unconscious Madam Marlene out when he happened to discover this old letter, so he had taken it along.
After opening it later, he found that it was a commission Marlene had written to a witcher before she had completely turned into a monster. The contents were basically not much different from the diary. Only the small detail mentioned at the end of the letter surprised Victor quite a bit.
He tried asking the victim for details, but unfortunately her memory was hazy as well. The words recorded in the letter were everything she knew.
The key phrase was the vagrant "who sold mirrors." It might be the otherworldly devil who appeared in the expansion, the evil being known as "Master Mirror," an existence that could not be defeated by force and could only be outwitted.
"Forget it. Either way, that was over a hundred years ago. To an existence like that, he probably wouldn't care about a small fry like me."
Victor folded the letter and put it away, wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, nodded to Madam Marlene, and rose to call Alfie outside for a conversation.
After softly reassuring Marlene, the butler handed his work over to the maid and followed the witcher's steps.
They stood in the gallery and spoke. Chrysanthemums were blooming in the garden.
"You have worked hard. Since I returned last night, I have noticed many fine changes around the estate. You have done well during this time."
At the estate master's praise, the butler, Alfred Futi, placed a hand over his chest to express his thanks. "I am glad you are satisfied, Lord Vic. During your absence, the estate newly hired a total of fifty-nine people, including forty-five guards, eight housemaids, five vineyard workers, and one specially trained personal maid. Perhaps you would like, "
", I would not like anything." Victor smiled and raised a hand to interrupt. "My room is private territory. I am used to taking care of it myself, so I do not need a personal maid. If Angoulême wants her, you can assign the maid to her.
"And from now on, the hiring and dismissal of staff will also be under your supervision and management. If I do not ask, you do not need to report it to me.
"A capable butler should know the details of estate management better than the master. He manages the servants, assigns work, supervises, inspects, and ensures everything in the master's estate runs properly.
"And my responsibility is to enjoy life, sleep in clean beds, eat fine food, drink good wine, wear brand-new formalwear, attend all kinds of banquets, and dance with uniquely charming beauties.
"Do you think I am right?"
Pushing down his sunglasses, Alfie bowed. "Nothing could be more correct."
Victor raised his arms and stretched his back muscles. "This afternoon, Angoulême and I will take Lafite and set off for Beauclair to attend tomorrow's Wine Festival. I will leave the celebration here at the estate to you. Same as before, do not let them fool around in my fountain!
"I am not sure how many days this trip will keep us in the city, but I definitely won't stay away until winter. Please take good care of Madam Marlene and help her recover as soon as possible. You heard last night what torment and suffering she endured all these years. Also, she counts as my 'guest.' Make absolutely no mistake about her position."
"I certainly will not, sir."
"Hmm… While I was away, aside from those visitors concerned with Lafite or Sansretour the Lost, did anything else of note happen?"
After thinking it over, the butler answered seriously, "Not that I am aware of."
…
A few hours later, Victor and Angoulême rode side by side, while twelve guards escorted the wagon loaded with Lafite. The party wound its way north.
After more than a month without a heart-to-heart with his member, the leader of the Phantom Troupe naturally had to seize the chance to make up for it. He had remembered the story of the horseshoe nail since he was little, for want of a nail, the kingdom was lost.
To be honest, Angoulême's performance as the one in charge had been far more splendid than Victor expected. Not only had she trained a respectable guard unit, but authority had also changed her bearing. Now, in speech and conduct, she even had a touch of noble poise.
After listening to his member's story, the leader also spoke about what he had gained from exploring Professor Moreau's laboratory. Keira Metz was, of course, an unavoidable part of the account, but Victor passed over it lightly, and Angoulême either did not care much or already had a sense of things.
As they chatted idly, Beauclair came into view before they knew it. Victor suddenly remembered the question he had asked the butler earlier. "Ah… While I was away, aside from visitors concerned with Lafite or Sansretour the Lost, did anything else of note happen?"
After thinking about it, she furrowed her thick brows. "There was something very strange." Angoulême said seriously, "About ten days before you came back, a man dressed like a mercenary came to Corion Estate and said he wanted to ask the witcher to deal with an invisible monster!"
"An invisible monster!?"
"That's right. He said that when they were transporting goods past the foot of Mount Gorgon, blood mist suddenly spread everywhere. Then their men were dragged into the mist one by one and died with miserable screams. They slashed with swords and knives, but couldn't hit anything at all.
"Right now, he and his companions are recovering in Beauclair. The address they left was The Pheasantry. He said he would keep waiting there until you returned."
"Blood mist… maybe a lesser foglet? I'm not sure what kind of monster it is, but the commission sounds fairly normal. Besides, if they are still waiting for me, and they have been staying at The Pheasantry for more than ten days, then their finances are definitely solid. I can knock a large sum out of them. So where is the strange part you mentioned?"
Angoulême chuckled slyly. "When he spoke to me, his body was flashing with a faint red glow, and he stayed hostile toward me. As a client asking a witcher for help, do you think that is normal?
"You should know that I do not have mutated eyes. I am one hundred percent human.
"And that fellow looked nervous and terrified, but I kept feeling that he did not care about the matter as much as he seemed to. My instincts said it was more like he wanted to lure you to the foot of Mount Gorgon."
Stroking the horse's mane, Victor did not doubt Angoulême's thoughts at all. Eagle vision was that unreasonable. Almost every conspiracy was laid bare before her. As long as someone wanted to harm her, she would know, so this commission was definitely problematic.
But he did not intend to overcomplicate the matter either. He knew that he now had a bit of a reputation, and there would be many people who wanted to use him to do unspeakable things. Victor still had that much self-awareness.
"Good work. As expected of you. After the Wine Festival ends tomorrow, I will have a friend check their background. If their origins are unclear, we will detain them first and see what kind of tricks they are trying to play. Is there anything else interesting?"
The young woman scratched her head. "Hmm… does what happened this morning count? Thanks for giving up the personal maid. I love that transfer so much. You should know, she is a beautiful massage master!"
"Eek! What did you say!?" Hearing that the maid actually had such a skill, the young man subconsciously wanted to ask for details.
Having long expected Victor's reaction, Angoulême urged Amber forward with a squeeze of her legs and joyfully rushed toward the city gate. "No taking it back. What you gave me is mine. You were the one who gave her up!"
Letting the reins slacken as he rode on slowly, the witcher rubbed his nose and felt as if he had lost a hundred million.
After presenting their documents and passing through the city gate, Victor followed the Wine Festival procedure and accompanied the wagon to deliver Lafite to the palace for storage. It was sealed with wax and placed in the cellar to ensure no one could tamper with the red wine.
Tomorrow, every red wine would be opened on the spot, and cups would be raised in court. Whether the wine was good or not, everyone would know immediately. Duchess Anna Henrietta, the sorceress Fringilla Vigo, and the master sommelier Benoit in particular were all publicly recognized as people who could never be bought.
Not wanting to alert the enemy, the witcher chose not to stay at The Pheasantry, but instead went to the lower city district and lodged at The Clever Clogs Tavern.
And so, they passed the night peacefully.
…
The Wine Festival was an indispensable celebration in the duchy, held every year on the second week of the month following the Barrel Festival.
The people of Toussaint regarded wine as sacred. Here, blood and wine were equal. Without the drops of blood that flowed in the past, there would be no Est Est, Erveluce, Fiorano Rosé…
Many world-famous vineyards, such as Castel Ravello, Pomerol, Vermentino, Tufo, and others, had owners who spared no effort maintaining fine traditions and secret recipes passed down through generations, preserving the good reputation of their own brands. From that alone, the importance of this festival was plain to see.
And so, starting in the morning, the palace forecourt was opened to the public. Nobles, knights, courtiers, merchants, and commoners, today they shared one common identity, people who had come to drink wine.
Hand drums and tambourines beat out a merry rhythm. Flutes and harps sang beautiful melodies. Seeing barrel after barrel of fine wine moved from the depths of the cellar to beneath the awnings, the audience grew excited and clamored with enthusiasm. When certain famous brands appeared, some people even screamed.
In the crowd, Victor wore proper formalwear and carried himself with calm confidence. His steel sword remained at his waist.
And today, the people standing beside him as guides to local customs were not his old friends Milton or Palmerin, but the younger generation's "blond lovesick fool," Guillaume de Launfal, and "dimpled Barrel Junior," Horace de Funés.
The injuries Guillaume had suffered from the giant last time had not yet healed, and bandages were still wrapped beneath his formalwear. Naturally, Guillaume had not attended despite injury for Victor's sake. His gaze was fixed firmly on the viewing platform, drifting along with Vivienne de Tabris's moving figure. To be honest, that foolish look was rather amusing.
Helplessly curling his lip, the deputy commander of the Ducal Guard bowed slightly to the witcher in apology for his friend's discourtesy. Victor smiled and shook his head to show he did not mind. Anyone who argued with a fool was also a fool.
As for Angoulême, she had already grown familiar with everyone last time, so naturally, this time she was also in a prime seat on the viewing platform, cheek to cheek with Vivienne de Tabris as they whispered together.
She was wearing a conservative long dress today, but even if it was conservative, beautiful people looked good in anything.
"Are you truly confident?" Vivienne asked worriedly. "Why not simply give up? Didn't I write to you saying it was all right to give up? I already explained your difficulties to Her Enlightened Ladyship."
Angoulême leaned close to Vivienne's small, translucent ear. Noticing that the audience below could not see clearly from this angle, she mischievously licked it, making Vivienne let out a soft, adorable cry of surprise. "I don't know how other people feel, but I like Lafite very much. I have drunk quite a few good things, and none of them could compare to it.
"You should know that my brother, Mr. Victor, is petty, bad-tempered, stubborn, and ruthless, and he has only one virtue, he always does what he says! If he says he is going to win back a viscount title, then it will not be a baron title!"
"Hey! How can you still make jokes at a time like this? If you anger the duchess later, the consequences will be very serious!"
"I will tell you a secret. Last night, I even saw him practicing the angle of his nod of acknowledgment in front of the mirror. If he does not bring back a viscount title today, that is when the consequences will be very serious. Lord Corion, once he is embarrassed, is not reasonable!"
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