A few days after the incident, the King of Temeria held a banquet in the White Hall to celebrate the suppression of the unrest and Vizima's return to peace.
The banquet began in the afternoon. The carved beams and painted columns were exquisitely decorated, and a hundred flowers bloomed brilliantly in the courtyard. The fine hour and beautiful scenery came just in time, completely untouched by the smoke of the recent battle.
In a certain corner of the hall, the royal huntsman, Mr. Jean-Pierre, was holding forth with great enthusiasm. "...Ah! It was truly a great disaster! At the time, I simply could not imagine why the heavily guarded eastern city gate had been broken open.
"We all know now that it was due to the negligence of the Flaming Rose traitors, but at that terrifying moment, those of us near the gate were unquestionably trapped in mortal danger.
"Fortunately, I suddenly remembered the great King Foltest! He has always protected us, and this time he would surely protect us as well!
"You may find this difficult to believe, but this is the truth. When six or seven Scoia'tael broke into my house, in my panic, I shouted, 'Long live King Foltest!'
"Then I saw surprise, shock, fear, and cowardice appear on those bastards' faces. The king's majesty made them too ashamed to remain!
"They rushed out the door and fled as fast as rabbits with five or six arrows stuck in their backsides..."
Not far away by the window, Victor held a wineglass and listened with great interest. He could no longer blend into the crowd now, because he was a witcher.
Even though he wore exquisite formal clothes, wherever the young man went, the surrounding area would gradually empty out, allowing him to fully experience what it felt like to be excluded. Fortunately, his sharp ears still let him eavesdrop on gossip. Otherwise, he really would have died of boredom.
A familiar set of footsteps came from behind him. Turning his head, Victor saw the city guard captain, Vincent Meis. Although his position had not changed, his actual authority had certainly expanded.
The captain approached the witcher and took the initiative to clasp his hand. "Thank you! Thank you, Victor. Thank you for everything you have done!"
He did not explain much, but the meaning was clear. Before true love, the werewolf had disappeared, and the curse was not worth mentioning.
"I'm glad you were able to free yourself, but the person you should truly thank is not me or Geralt. You should thank Carmen properly. The fact that she stayed by your side even when you transformed, that true love was the real medicine that solved the problem."
"I swear I will treat her well." After saying this, he noticed the witcher's lonely situation and became somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry. It shouldn't be like this. None of them participated in the actual affairs, so they don't understand what you contributed..."
Victor smiled and shook his head. "It's fine. Actually, I didn't contribute much. Mainly, I just lifted a curse." He raised his glass in a toast, took a sip, and saw Vincent the city guard off.
The captain had only just left when an attendant respectfully approached. "Mr. Victor Corion, Her Highness summons you. Please follow me."
Her Highness!? With a shrug, the young man waved for him to lead the way.
...
The attendant led the witcher through several winding turns to a "lounge," then withdrew outside the door, hung up a do-not-disturb sign, and left Victor alone with Princess Adda.
The so-called lounge was... a lounge, a place for nobles to rest and conspire. It had sofas, tables and chairs, and a bed. Incidentally, it was a double bed, the European kind with curtains.
The atmosphere was somewhat strange, but the witcher was fearless. After the two had been honest with each other that day, they had formed a tacit understanding. At the very least, their relationship was not one of mutual plotting. He walked straight over and sat opposite the princess, picked up the Fiorano rosé, and poured a full glass for both her and himself.
Raising his glass with a smile, Victor said, "To the treasure of Temeria! The just and noble princess royal."
Adda rolled her eyes at the young man and lightly clinked glasses with him. "I don't believe you don't know that this treasure is about to be packed up and sold."
They each took a small sip.
"Please don't say that. Precious things remain precious no matter where they are. By marrying Radovid V, you will not only be Temeria's treasure, but Redania's as well, the key to maintaining peace between the two countries," the witcher said sincerely.
The princess propped her cheek on one hand and sighed. "But I don't like such an unfree life! I've always worked hard to escape this outcome.
"I was once very close to succeeding. Unfortunately, in the end, I still failed... Do you know what I like most about Batman? What I admire most is that arrogant freedom of his. It is something I do not have. Tell me, why did he dare wear such exaggerated clothing?"
Victor spread his hands. "Your Highness, I don't know what Batman was thinking, but aside from a king, no one is truly free. And even kings do not have absolute freedom."
The part the young man did not say aloud, the princess knew. He was referring to the king's past love for his sister. Back then, even someone as powerful as Foltest had ultimately failed to make his sister his queen.
But what displeased Adda was, "Vic, you insufferable man. I'm about to leave, and you still refuse to tell the truth. Is admitting you're Batman really that difficult? You disappoint me too much!"
Staring at Victor, who still maintained an unshakable posture of "I have no idea what you are talking about," the princess lost heart.
"Forget it... I forgive you, because it looks like I won't have the chance to give you the reward we agreed on a few days ago. I didn't expect I would be getting engaged so soon..." By the end, her tone was gray and indifferent. Her former proud, heroic, high-handed spirit had disappeared, and she looked dispirited and resigned to fate.
Perhaps she had always felt that after the unrest ended, her father's eagerness to marry her off was a disguised form of exile.
And even if she married Radovid V and was greatly favored, the authority of a princess royal and a queen was worlds apart. For someone who had tasted power, losing it must have been very hard to endure.
Out of sympathy, Victor rubbed his chin and said, "Don't be so depressed! How about this? I'll tell you a story, a story from Bell Town, east of Zerrikania, about a legendary queen!"
Holding her wineglass, Adda, immersed in self-pity and resentment, glanced at him without answering.
Sniffing, the young man began directly. "A long, long time ago, there was a country called Taran. Its king married a very capable queen..."
...
"...And so, after the queen ascended the throne, she led the kingdom of Taran, allowing the people to live and work in peace and prosperity, establishing a flourishing golden age."
In the middle of the story, Adda had still exclaimed from time to time and asked about details. But when the story ended, she suddenly fell silent, only staring at Victor with shining eyes.
It was summer, and it was also the fault of the low-cut formal dress leaning forward, so the room suddenly felt somewhat stuffy.
Then she said, "Do you know? The story you told has no value at all. It has no feasibility whatsoever, it is all nonsense! In the Northern Kingdoms, a king is a king, and a queen is a queen. A queen cannot become a king!"
The princess drew out her conclusion. Although her words were harsh, her tone was strangely gentle.
Facing the stifling heat in the room, the pressure of female authority, and her hungry, predatory gaze, the young man answered cautiously, "I'm very sorry. My analogy was inappropriate."
She smiled. Smiling sweetly, she drained the red wine in one gulp, tossed the glass aside, pulled off her hair ornament, and rose to circle around the wine table.
Sensing the dangerous atmosphere, Victor hurriedly got up and retreated.
But it was already too late. The princess pounced as swiftly as the wind, no slower than a striga. Caught off guard, the witcher was knocked down onto the furniture.
"Behave! Let me see!"
"Adda, stop, Adda! Adda, no, if you keep doing this, I'm going to scream!"
"Then scream! Scream louder! I'd love for everyone to hear. Worst case, we both go down together! At most, I won't marry a king. You'll definitely be hanged!"
Hearing this, Victor flew into a "towering rage." Damn it! I kindly told you a story to comfort you, and you actually threaten me!?
"So willful, spoiled, and reckless. You must be punished!"
...
Since ancient times, the spear has been the king of all weapons, and the centerline thrust is the king of spear techniques. In wielding a spear, the four levels are prized, the crown level, the shoulder level, the foot level, and the spear level.
When the crown is level, the head is upright, the neck straight, the mind calm, and the spirit full, with both eyes sharp and commanding. When the shoulders are level, the shoulders sink and the elbows drop, so the spine remains straight, the body level, and the stance steady...
The centerline spear is a thrust along a single line, driven straight forward. Its route is the shortest, fast and powerful, with a momentum like an arrow in flight, making it impossible to guard against...
As the saying goes, "The centerline spear, king among spears, high or low, far or near, none can defend. High, it cannot be barred, low, it cannot be seized, and the central point is hardest to block."
Excerpt from An Introduction to Spear Arts
...
Some time later, the witcher walked out of the lounge, preparing to return to the main hall. However, he had only taken a few steps when another attendant respectfully approached. "Mr. Victor Corion, His Majesty summons you. Please follow me."
Hearing that it was His Majesty, the young man pulled out a silk handkerchief and dusted off the dirt on his knees, then waved for the attendant to lead the way. The reason he had come to participate in the banquet today was because King Foltest wanted to summon him.
However, the route was unexpected. It did not lead toward the audience hall, but wound around several turns and brought the witcher to the front of another "lounge."
After a graceful noblewoman left with swaying steps, the attendant invited the young man into the room, closed the door, hung up the do-not-disturb sign, and left Victor alone with "Radovid V."
Discovering that it was this "His Majesty," even a fine man like Victor, broad of chest, mighty in spirit, and ambitious enough to swallow the four seas, found his expression somewhat stiff when confronted with this strange scene, having just fought a full-contact match with a certain lady, only to immediately run into her fiancé.
But sweeping his gaze over the messy bed, he knew that Radovid V had likewise just experienced an intense battle. His extraordinary sense of smell could even clearly detect the scent of gardenias.
Radovid V, seated in his chair, showed the bearing of a wise ruler, smiling as he beckoned. "Come... hurry over here and sit in front of me. Regarding Adda's matter, if not for you, I truly don't know what would have happened. You have worked hard!"
Rubbing his nose, Victor walked over and sat down openly. "...No! I do not deserve Your Majesty's praise. Actually, it was not that hard. It merely took some effort..."
Gazing into the witcher's eyes, the little bald king cheerfully filled a glass with wine, then pushed it toward the young man. "Haha! There is no need to be polite with me. I believe you must have given a great deal!
"This is not our first meeting. I was deeply impressed by your intelligence, so even though you have turned into a witcher, my attitude toward you will not change."
"It is my honor, Your Majesty." Victor toasted him, took a small sip, then put down the glass and waited.
Just as Radovid had said, this was not their first meeting, so Victor also understood something of this ruler's character. If nothing was going on, he would not have called Victor over. And perhaps because Philippa had suppressed him too much, in front of people who did not require it, he was fundamentally unwilling to show patience.
Tilting his face slightly, the little bald king revealed the angle the witcher was most familiar with. "I'll speak plainly. I called you here because I want to ask you..." After a slight pause, he continued, "As the person who lifted the striga curse, I want to ask you... can Adda, can she become pregnant normally? What I mean is, can she bear Redania's future for me?"
Victor was fully confident in his answer to this question. "Please rest assured, Your Majesty. Although the striga's curse is special, as long as it is lifted properly, there will be no obstacle to bearing descendants, and there will be no hereditary phenomenon either. I can guarantee you that."
Receiving this answer, Radovid nodded in satisfaction. "Good! Very good, excellent! Witcher, I trust you will not tell anyone that I consulted you on this question?"
"Your Majesty never asked me any question. Today, you summoned me purely to commend the witcher for his work!" Victor replied cleanly and crisply.
"Hahahahahahaha!" Radovid burst into laughter. "Well said, wonderfully said! Indeed, that is exactly so! Listen, Victor. I am very satisfied with everything you have done for Adda. Well done! So I will reward you heavily!"
Having played medieval strategy games, Victor could understand why Radovid was so happy. Because if he and Adda could have children, then their child would possess claims to the thrones of both Redania and Temeria! Although Foltest was currently his ally, who knew what might happen in the future?
...
Not long after, carrying a bulging pouch of Novigrad crowns, the witcher left the room. One could only say that the little bald king was indeed generous with his rewards.
Without being stopped again, he smoothly returned to the White Hall. Picking up another cocktail, Victor had just prepared to eavesdrop on more gossip when another attendant respectfully approached. "Mr. Victor Corion, His Majesty Foltest summons you. Please follow me."
"Tsk! I'm really in high demand! Can't they even let me rest a little?" the witcher sighed inwardly. But this time, it was finally the real host summoning him. After this audience ended, leaving early would not be considered rude.
On his way to the audience hall, Victor saw Shani walking from the opposite direction in the distance, with Angoulême guarding beside her. His senior still wore her simple, capable doctor's outfit. The pure gold badge hanging on her chest was the king's reward for her service in the field hospital.
And the commendation Angoulême had received was clearly even more brilliant. First, she helped the city guards fight Licker, then defended the field hospital and protected the people. Next, she slew large numbers of Scoia'tael and resisted the traitors of the Order of the Flaming Rose. All these achievements together had made her fame soar.
In addition, she was a pure "human woman" without any racial issue, so judging from her epaulets, badges, and attire, Foltest had granted her the title of honorary knight. From now on, people could call her "Angoulême of Temeria" or "the Golden Eagle of Temeria."
It was likely that in this unrest, apart from the king, the brightest star was Angoulême the Golden Eagle.
However, if the same achievements had been accomplished by Victor, then as a mere witcher, he would probably have been dismissed with some money. Especially at this moment, His Majesty's summons, in the eyes of ordinary people, could be called extraordinary favor.
As they passed each other, Shani smiled at Victor, while Angoulême made a face at the party leader.
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