—
Walking out of the cabin and blending into the curious commotion caused by the explosion, Gustave and his maids were unable to clearly see the effect of their hard work. Many nobles had gathered in front of them, blocking their view as they jostled to get closer.
With no other choice, Gustave used his [Knowledge] ability to see clearly. Upon witnessing the sight, he couldn't help but wince in pain, as if he himself had been affected.
The reason he cringed at what he saw through his [Knowledge] was clear: the explosions had started directly beneath Caldwell's manhood. Even without relying on his ability, he could easily imagine how charred and scorched it must have been.
But the destruction did not stop there. Oil and fire from a lantern caused the bursting flames to engulf the entire cabin. Judging from the state of the cabin — objects overturned and tossed about — he could imagine Caldwell's frantic attempts to break free amidst the inferno.
Coupled with the sight that the right side of his body had been charred black, it was indication enough that Caldwell had been in the cabin long enough to become a human shish kebab.
Yet Gustave couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this, because, as far as he knew, the normal reaction of someone trapped in a fire and fully awake would be to scramble frantically to escape, thereby minimizing the burned damage before receiving treatment.
Not only that, he had fully expected the damage from the dust explosion to be minimal — maybe just one limb being scorched. But half of the body being burned didn't make any sense, especially knowing that the firepower was not strong enough to cause that much damage.
Coupled with the fact that the explosion had started in Caldwell's crotch rather than his legs or head — and considering that the cabin lantern he had modified was only meant to illuminate the wall, so it would have been nowhere near the crotch when it fell or exploded — Gustave frowned in suspicion.
'Unless he took the lantern down and used it for stronger illumination — for example, for writing or reading.'
Frowning as he wondered what had prompted Caldwell's instinct to do something other than escape when the explosion occurred, Gustave began expanding his spirituality to make his [Knowledge] ability pick up every detail in the cabin, rather than just skimming like last time.
His conjecture proved correct. Upon witnessing the burnt, scarred, and torn papers, he finally understood why Caldwell's reaction after the dust explosion struck his crotch was not to flee, but to stay and frantically destroy the evidence.
"…To Ma… Strego…
…Seal… Silence…
…as you instru… kept watch… young prin… rumor of child… intelligence…
…palace… maids whisper… beasts tran… hidden hosti… midwife no… present dur…
…the child yet li… hidden… abili… though time… maybe… scent…
…should your wis… worth in such… await your word… fetch… or let fate cl…
…formant in equa…
C."
Easily recognizing the name Magister Stregobor — which he pieced together from the fragments — Gustave now understood why Caldwell had risked everything: simply to avoid being associated with that particular wizard, or with any alumnus of Ban Ard.
'Damnable whoreson. I only accidentally killed one of your people. Now the whole nest of vultures is curious.'
Although he could easily guess that Caldwell believed his dealings with Stregobor had been nothing more than opportunistic, Gustave knew the truth — Caldwell had merely been used as a pawn.
Stregobor — and many other sorcerers who had their eyes on him — were not only seeking compensation but were also curious about what had truly happened at the banquet that night.
It was far too suspicious that the only reports they had received suggested either that the sorcerer had been cursed and suddenly suffered an episode during the banquet, or that the sorcerer had hostile intentions toward the royal family — with no other information available.
Coupled with the fact that the circle of sorcerers knew with certainty that the man possessed healthy magic, showed no sign of a curse, and had no inclination to harm the monarchies of Lyria and Rivia, the whole incident became even more baffling and inexplicable.
Because of this, instead of focusing on the unreliable reports, the sorcerers interested in the ordeal began turning their eyes toward him.
In the entire incident, aside from the sorcerer who had performed mystical acts, he was the only suspect — due to his abnormal intelligence, which, although far-fetched, made him the prime candidate.
Cursing under his breath, Gustave muttered, 'Blast it all. I hate this game of cat and mouse.'
Although he wished he could settle things with a simple fistfight to see who was stronger, that was impossible. The simple reason was that he was already part of this world's society; whether he liked it or not, he had to accept all the intricacies that came with it.
And in this society — beyond the simple and humble paths of everyday monster hunting — political intrigue was essentially a struggle: a clash to determine who was the most cunning of them all.
With no choice but to enter this battle of wits, Gustave began brainstorming ways to throw off the curious vultures and divert their attention away from him.
If he couldn't find a solution, then at the very least, he needed to locate a safe haven — one impregnable enough to deter their probing eyes and exhaust their persistence. And looking toward Cintra, particularly at how Queen Calanthe guarded her granddaughter's destiny so fiercely, he might have just found the solution he was searching for.
'Sorry, Ciri. I might have to use you as a meat shield for now.'
As for why he didn't simply stay with his mother — which, on the surface, seemed the safest choice given her loyal people and the army at her disposal — the reason was simple: Lyria and Rivia, though now counted among the high-tier kingdoms, were still far too new.
Their intelligence network was far weaker than Ban Ard's — or, by extension, the vast interconnected web of the mages' informants.
Even their special forces were still nonexistent, making the twin realms the weakest among the great kingdoms.
Coupled with the fact that most of their income came from farming and herding — with only a modest contribution from mining and blacksmithing thanks to Rivia's proximity to the ore-rich Mahakam Mountains — Gustave judged it far safer to take sanctuary in a kingdom that was already mature.
Mature enough to handle the subtle games of political intrigue almost instinctively — by recognizing and eliminating anything suspicious — thus reducing the number of spies who might try to get their hands on information about him.
Added to that, Gustave knew that in Lyria his mother was currently enduring countless assassination attempts due to the unrest within the twin realms.
So, he decided it would be wiser to stay in Cintra for a few years — until things settled down, or until he had enough inventions to overturn the entire board of this battle of wits through the sheer ingenuity of his creations.
As for why he didn't simply kill Caldwell for colluding with Stregobor, it was because there were many others like him — easily replaceable. Once one Caldwell fell, another would simply rise to take his place as an informant.
Thus, to him, it was far better to have a known enemy whose moves could be anticipated, rather than a hidden one who might strike only after he had already fallen into an unfavorable position.
—
After things finally calmed down, and everyone had seen with their own eyes that Caldwell had suffered an "accident," Gustave and his maids proceeded to the gun deck to collect their meal. Yet, even as he walked, his mind couldn't help but return to the sight of Caldwell's severely burned body.
Judging by the limited number of healers in the entourage — and with no magic users in sight — he knew for certain that by the time they reached the next port, Caldwell's injuries would have already become permanent.
Shaking his head and silently wishing Caldwell a quick recovery, Gustave instructed his maids to bring the food up to the main deck.
He wanted to enjoy the view the captain had chosen, for the spot where they had stopped — in the middle of a Yaruga tributary — served not only as a picturesque dinner location but also as the proving ground for the successful implementation of his invention.
Stepping onto the deck and gazing at the vast natural landscape that the Continent of the Witchers had to offer, Gustave couldn't help but sigh in contentment.
"Ah… the Pearl of the North."
Looking at the expanse of hills and dales on the other side of the tributary, Rosemary, holding the young prince in her arms, softly said, "Yes, young prince. I, too, adore this sight — a humble beauty like no other. Our twin realms of Lyria and Rivia."
Hills rose like sleeping giants, their shadows stretching long and soft over the valleys below. The scent of wildflowers drifted from the shore, mingling with the night mist from the stream and the resinous breath of oak and tar from the forest.
Crickets sang unseen in the reeds yonder. The water's surface broke with a quiet splash as a fish leapt and vanished again. Above, a virgin sea of a thousand stars stretched across the heavens, mirrored faintly in the dark glass of the river.
It was a panorama his eyes feasted upon the moment he stepped onto the deck — beautiful and serene, a gift born from the untouched fields of nature in this world. After a few minutes of silent admiration, Gustave gestured for his maids to continue walking and find an empty table.
Dinner was laid before them under the soft glow of a lantern, Gustave being fed slowly and discreetly by his maids. If he were to rate the scene from zero to "Skyrim-worthy panoramic," he would give it a seven — perhaps seven point five out of ten, depending on the time of day.
And now, with the virgin stars of the medieval sky hanging above, Gustave settled on the maximum score of seven point five, realizing just how much he had missed as a man once accustomed to the modern city.
Though life in this age of swords and axes came with many inconveniences, he couldn't help but admit that, when it came to panoramas, this world surpassed his own.
Fortunately, in the world of The Witcher, hygiene and sanitation were already advanced — comparable to the mid-to-late 19th century — thanks to the insistence of sorcerers who refused to let cities reek of filth. Had it not been so, he might not have enjoyed this breathtaking view to the fullest.
—
It had been two full days since the explosion in Caldwell's cabin. Now, the ship had entered a region of the Continent perpetually shrouded in swamps — Angren. Unlike Rivia, where the panoramic view was beautiful and pleasant to behold, this land was anything but.
Coupled with the constant presence of insects, especially swarms of mosquitoes, Gustave would have preferred to stay in his cabin. However, since the ship was preparing to dock, he wanted at least to catch a glimpse of a certain place — or more precisely, a bridge — where, in another timeline, Geralt had once been knighted by his mother.
As Red Port came into view, with its long wooden bridge stretching from one bank to the other, Gustave turned his gaze to the left, toward the spot where the Battle for the Bridge on the Yaruga would one day unfold, if destiny followed the same course.
Being able to witness firsthand the very setting he had once only read about in books filled him with a strange sense of contentment — a quiet acknowledgment that he truly had been reincarnated into this world. Yet, when his eyes drifted to the far right side of the bridge, where Tuzla Castle stood, his expression grew complicated.
For that castle was where Caldwell had perished by his mother's hand in another timeline — but also where his mother had been made a fool of twice by that same man, who had managed to outwit her, paying for his victory with his life.
Shaking his head, Gustave dismissed the thought. That timeline had not yet come to pass. Even now, Tuzla Castle and the lands of Angren did not belong to Caldwell. He resolved to do everything in his power to steer the original course of events toward his own advantage — and to ensure that his mother would never be made a fool to begin with.
As he prepared to descend from the ship and return to his cabin, Gustave suddenly froze, his pupils dilating as his gaze caught sight of four armored knights and a raggedly dressed figure standing down on the dock.
Focusing his [Knowledge] to its fullest, he peered into the distance — and his eyes did not deceive him. He recognized them instantly from Dandelion's notes about Geralt's contracts in the Blood and Wine tales.
Four knights who had once forsaken their chivalric virtues and later became victims of the Beast of Beauclair: Louis de la Croix, Vladimir Crespi, Milton de Peyrac-Peyran, and Ramon du Lac.
And with them stood a girl cursed to be born under the Black Sun — Sylvia Anna.
Only this time, the woman who would one day become a ruthless manipulator was still just a helpless teenage girl. But even as a teenager, Gustave knew that since the later stages of her childhood, she had already shown signs of sociopathic tendencies. That's why his first reaction upon seeing her was to avoid her like the plague.
He knew nothing good ever came from associating with someone who had a backstabbing, trigger-happy disposition. Yet, understanding her past and upbringing, he couldn't help but sympathize with what she would eventually become.
After all, no sane person could remain gentle after enduring the torment Sylvia Anna — or any girl born under Eltibald's Prophecy — had to suffer.
Prejudiced against since birth, shunned by their own parents, and later hunted down by deranged mages eager to dissect them — these were only a few of the horrors they had to endure for bearing the Curse of the Black Sun.
From her current state alone, Gustave could already glimpse the life she had been forced to endure. Bruises festered with pus; her chest was sunken, betraying days without food; her eyes, once tearful, had long since dried — perhaps from endless pleading to be spared from yet another round of physical or mental torment.
It was the mere surface of the suffering Gustave could deduce through his [Knowledge].
The only silver lining was that her abusers were knights. Had they been bandits instead, those tearful eyes would likely have been lifeless ones — for not even her chastity would have been spared.
And from what he knew of the main timeline — where she and the four knights were bound for Caed Dhu — her suffering would likely continue for some time still, as the forest of Caed Dhu was a long journey ahead.
Torn between pity and pragmatism, he began weighing the most logical course of action that would best serve his interests.
He would finance her — the girl driven by vengeance toward Toussaint and, by extension, Nilfgaard. Gustave deduced, using his [Knowledge], that if she ever raised an army, she could very well become a thorn in Emperor Emhyr's side once Emhyr began his northern conquest.
Moreover, should his mother one day set her sights on annexing Toussaint, Gustave would have legitimate grounds to claim the land through Sylvia Anna's allegiance.
Even so, he remained reluctant — wary of her volatile and treacherous nature. It was far too exhausting to deal with a backstabbing, trigger-happy subordinate who demanded constant vigilance. Torn between logical benefit and emotional prejudice, he found himself conflicted on what to do.
'Welp. Just let lady luck decide your fate, Syanna.'
Taking a coin from his pocket, Gustave instructed one of his maids to flip it. He knew full well that, with his Beyonder ability, he could alter the outcome if he wished. Deciding that heads meant helping her and tails meant walking away, he watched the coin spin in the air.
Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails. Heads… Tails.
'No help, huh? …Now I'm certain. I'm helping her.'
Twisting his fingers in a noncommittal gesture, Gustave muttered, 'Let's just hope this decision proves to be the right one in the future.'
—