For a vineyard estate, the wine cellar was naturally the most important place of all, a mysterious place where servants were not allowed to enter. But the special point of Corion Estate that people loved to talk about was that its wine cellar was not called a wine cellar. The wooden plaque hanging at the entrance read Victor's Alchemy Workshop.
In the alchemy workshop before dawn, Victor, with fire-red eyes, was trying to brew Superior Black Blood, the secret potion used against vampires. This excited state was very suitable for researching new formulas, and he answered Angoulême's complaints on and off.
Holding Lafite like beer and chugging it straight from the bottle, she finished it with several gulps, then slapped the table. "Hey! You actually said Dettlaff is simple? You should know I was nearly killed by him, skewered on that claw like a kebab. Golden Eagle couldn't even cut through those claws. Don't bring Regis into this, the herbalist uncle is very gentle. He'd never go straight for a killing blow the moment there was a disagreement like that!"
A few years ago, in Geralt's daughter-seeking party, there had once been a higher vampire. He was Regis, the one who always carried an herbal satchel. In the final battle at Stygga Castle during the prologue of the story, he died at the hand of a high-ranking sorcerer. Truly at his hand, caught in his hand and burned alive.
Geralt had told Angoulême about this, and the member had naturally repeated it to the leader. However, when Victor heard about it, he felt that Regis was most likely not dead, but merely in a deathlike state.
Although he did not know whether the shameless setting of "higher vampires can only be killed by their own kind" applied in the real world, when it came to the life and death of such important supporting characters, his memories from his previous life had never disappointed him.
Feeling that she was a little drunk, he took out two tubes of sobering medicine and placed them on the table. "I'm not trying to bring Regis into this. Although you almost got wiped out, that doesn't have much to do with Dettlaff's personality. Considering tonight's situation, with bandits everywhere, attacking someone who was spying is quite normal!
"But... if you're really angry, I'll tell you a secret. As long as we stand by and do nothing, he'll fall into a conspiracy, and in the end he will either be cut down by Geralt or spend the rest of his life in pain and regret."
Angoulême's eyes instantly opened bright and shining, like a high-wattage light bulb. "Another prophecy!? And the uncle does it again?"
Victor nodded. "Yes. There are already some signs. A conservative estimate is that it will happen within a few years. Personality determines fate, and some things cannot be avoided. As for the person who does it, of course it will be fate's chief enforcer, the White Wolf Geralt."
"Can't it be someone else? Why doesn't fate choose me? Why does it always have to find the uncle as its enforcer?"
"Of course it's because he can fight, and he has fortune on his side! He's exactly the kind of protagonist fate I often talk to you about. Even if he can't win, he can escape or somehow win for no reason."
Originally, Victor did not believe in fate, but looking back at Geralt's history, many people who should have been stronger than him had ultimately fallen beneath his sword. For example, the evil sorcerer at Stygga Castle, or Jacques, whom Victor had personally seen. Such brilliant battle results made him unable not to sigh. Perhaps protagonist fate truly existed.
"He has protagonist fate! Then what do we count as?"
"Important comic-relief supporting characters! The kind who happily live until the grand finale. Isn't it good to be as lucky and happy as Dandelion?"
"How can he count as lucky! Let me tell you, back when we went south through the chaos of war..."
Before dawn, the relaxed and cheerful conversation continued.
...
After sunrise, Corion Estate welcomed honored guests. It could be said that since the Hortense family's management, these were the most honored visitors in over a century. Even the servants forgot last night's blood and fire, enthusiastically talking about the glorious scene unfolding before their eyes.
The Enlightened Lady of the Duchy of Toussaint, Duchess Anna Henrietta, had personally arrived, accompanied by Captain Damien de la Tour and Deputy Captain Horace de Funés leading soldiers.
To be honest, when Victor suddenly saw Anna Henrietta, he felt completely baffled. As the ruler of a country, was there really any need to personally come to the front line to pay attention to public security? But on the other hand, it could not be denied that after disaster struck his home, the local leader coming to express concern felt warm in his heart.
Remembering that Horace had previously mentioned that the lady's title suited bravery even more than enlightenment, the young man admitted that her ability to take action was indeed extraordinary.
Stepping forward to hold her horse for her, he watched her leap neatly down from the saddle. "I am truly glad to see you safe and sound, Lord Victor."
"Your Grace Henrietta,
thank you for your concern, but I am not a lord yet." Victor placed a hand over his chest and bowed.
"That does not matter. You will be this afternoon! In private, you may call me Anna Henrietta. Where is Angoulême?"
"Uh... she exhausted herself in a hard battle last night, and is still resting now. Please rest assured, she absolutely was not injured."
"Then I must go see her!" After leaving those words, she walked toward the main house with swift and decisive energy, not giving the estate master any time to react.
Victor glanced at the large-framed Damien, and unsurprisingly saw a trace of helplessness in his eyes. Then several of them quickly followed.
Not long afterward, after coming out of the exhausted Angoulême's room, Anna Henrietta's expression was somewhat strange, as if she had seen someone sleeping soundly after heavy drinking... Fortunately, she said nothing, only glared at the estate master without exposing his friendly packaging.
Victor invited their party into the dining room and had attendants serve them desserts and black tea. Then he assigned the butler to report the situation.
Facing the honored guests, Alfie specially took off his sunglasses. "Her Enlightened Ladyship, esteemed gentlemen, allow me to report the actual situation from last night. During the cleanup of the scene, over seventy corpses were left behind, of which forty-five belonged to the bandits. The losses among the guards and servants have already been identified and sorted by corpse. At present, they are all temporarily placed in the clothes-drying area in the northeast corner of the estate."
The duchess looked toward Damien. He understood and nodded, then left to inspect.
Then she turned to Victor. "My dear, I mourn your losses. We will find the mastermind behind this vicious incident and pursue the matter to the end. Such an attack on a wine noble must have been aimed at Lafite. Do you have any suspects?"
Suspecting that his ears had heard wrongly, Victor blinked, suddenly feeling that the two of them were not on the same channel.
This lady's words and actions were wildly imaginative, and she always managed to bring him surprises. Just like last time, when he thought she wanted to talk about the matter of the Beast, but she had suddenly started talking about writing a book instead.
According to the confession of the two mercenaries from the Pheasantry, last night was indeed the Professor's revenge against the witcher! And only a very small number of people knew that, in reality, it was an imperial agency's search and arrest operation targeting Cantarella.
With the confidential information available to her as duchess, Victor could accept not only the former, but even the latter. But what had Anna Henrietta said just now... she believed there was a third possibility, a wine war!?
Who had instilled this genius idea into her? Thinking of this, he glanced from the corner of his eye toward the deputy captain. Those two bandits had been personally interrogated by Horace. Could he have concealed the truth and failed to explain it clearly to the duchess?
Sensing Victor's gaze, Horace shook his head slightly, with a hint of helplessness in his eyes...
Fine! In any case, he would first follow her train of thought and analyze the suspects.
...
After an hour of speaking at cross purposes, the awakened Angoulême accompanied Lady Anna Henrietta to inspect the astonishingly combat-capable estate guards she had trained. Damien naturally stayed close at every step.
The witcher finally had the opportunity to speak in detail with Barrel Junior about what had happened in Beauclair last night.
They sat on reclining chairs on the balcony, each holding a glass of red wine.
"Give me an explanation. What exactly was that hour just now? I accompanied Her Grace in suspecting every large and small wine noble because you didn't submit the confessions?"
"I submitted them, but the lady believes the matter is not that simple!"
Indeed, conspiracies feared imagination the most. It truly was not that simple! Victor thought. Unfortunately, the direction of your imagination is completely wrong.
The estate master drained the red wine in his cup. "So in order to show the duchy's dignity, a large number of nobles will come this afternoon to jointly witness the lady bestowing a title upon me, letting everyone know that Lafite is mine, and forbidding anyone from carrying out a direct attack. Otherwise, it will be a provocation against the state. That is indeed Toussaint logic."
The deputy captain made a face. "Don't be sarcastic! In any case, an early investiture is not a bad thing. Moreover, the duchess's personal visit shows favor, and it will save you many small troubles in the future!"
Looking from afar at the party who were encouraging the guards, Horace spoke with feeling.
"I have to say, the combat strength of your guards is far too shocking. They were outnumbered, yet still managed to leave behind so many corpses. I never expected that aside from your own formidable combat strength, you also had some skill in training troops?"
"I don't dare take credit for that. They were all produced by Angoulême herself. I didn't interfere at all!"
At that moment, someone arrived at the estate gate. Seeing the newcomer wearing Black Sun attire, Victor could not help furrowing his brows.
Although he had already had Leo and Sasha avoid them, Nilfgaard was, after all, Toussaint's suzerain, and the Black Sun ambassador was still a rather influential figure. Was he here purely to participate in the investiture, or would he hint at something? The question was whether the intelligence Sasha had obtained was worth Mr. Vattier making a big matter of things. Or rather, whether he dared to.
Although judging from the Professor and the others disguising themselves as bandits, the probability of Viscount de Rideaux doing anything at all costs was low, still,
"Oh, right. Do you like Vivienne?" Horace suddenly raised an utterly unrelated question, interrupting Victor's thoughts.
"What beautiful lady could anyone not like? Why suddenly ask about that?"
"Because she privately asked me about you. About what kind of person you are, whether you are reliable. And this afternoon, she also volunteered to come over. That is a very rare situation.
"Don't look at me with such a strange gaze. I have no intention whatsoever of interfering with free love. This is purely concern and watching the fun. Even if you like her, it does not matter. Guillaume is the type who easily falls in love, so you do not need to consider his problem."
"I do not think Lady Vivienne means it that way." Remembering the girl's innocent teasing from last time, the witcher rubbed his nose. "She definitely did not ask because she is interested in me. I guess it is because of my specialty."
The servants' loud greetings along the way, and the deliberately heavy footsteps of the attendant leading the way, fully reminded the two men in conversation that other guests were approaching.
...
"Forgive me for disturbing the leisure of you two. May I ask, are you Mr. Victor?" After the witcher rose from the lounge chair, the gray-haired middle-aged man looked at his mutated pupils and continued, "Please allow me to mourn the dead, and congratulate you on your impending ennoblement. I am Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, Nilfgaard's ambassador to Toussaint."
"Victor of Kael Trode, master of Corion Estate. I am very pleased that the ambassador can come to participate in my important ceremony. It is a great honor."
His blond hair was brilliant, his etiquette proper, and he wore gorgeous, well-fitted clothing, yet he had no ornaments on him. The four blade scars on his face added a bit of blood and fire. Even at home, his sword never left him. His response was neither servile nor overbearing.
Shilard smiled. Indeed, as the intelligence Vattier had given him said, this was a smart man with firm will.
Gray-haired and balding, with forehead wrinkles, small eyes, and a hooked nose, he looked at first glance like someone who dealt in conspiracies. He wore traditional Nilfgaardian formal attire with a high folded collar, black base, patterned borders, and embroidered gold. A sun emblem hung on his chest from a thick gold chain.
Those who did diplomacy inevitably had conspiracies. Those from Nilfgaard who did diplomacy were even more full of conspiracies. Victor showed a sincere smile, his most vigilant state.
Sensing the subtle atmosphere, Horace picked up his wine glass, nodded to the two of them, and left.
The witcher and the ambassador politely yielded to one another and sat back down on the balcony lounge chairs. Taking a new wine glass from the ice bucket, Victor poured red wine for Shilard.
They raised cups to one another. Shilard took a small sip. "Lafite, the splendid new jewel set in the crown of Toussaint, with a taste that lingers long in the memory. It is said that Master Benoit even requested it be handled like Sangreal and collected entirely as a special-supply red wine."
Sangreal was a product of Castel Ravello, a sister wine of Est Est. The reason it was unknown was that it was reserved for the ducal house.
The estate master chuckled. "You also participated in the wine tasting yesterday? What a pity I did not notice. The master overpraised it. It may also be a fleeting blossom. Right now, it still cannot be confirmed whether next year's quality will be the same!"
"That is why, for now, it is only viscount. If you can maintain this quality, then the year after next, you should be promoted to count. Even winemaking can make one a noble. Toussaint truly is a wonderful place, is it not?"
"Indeed, whether in terms of climate or geography, it is a very suitable place to live. I like the fine wine and delicacies here."
Lighting a pipe, Shilard said, "Only under Nilfgaard's protection can such a beautiful place exist. What do you think?"
The probe within those words could not have been more obvious. Victor immediately relaxed. Asking his view of Nilfgaard, such a leading question meant that the other party had not come carrying a specific mission, but was more inclined toward a first contact with a capable individual.
And on this question, as a witcher, thanks to the summaries of his predecessors, he had a universal answer even kings could accept.
"I do not care about political matters. As you can see, I am only a witcher. We siblings also do not consider the future too far ahead. We merely focus on the life before us."
Shilard thought for a moment, then picked up the wine bottle and filled Victor's glass. "From the fact that you can brew Lafite, it is clear that you know how to live. To your attitude toward life. I hope you can keep it."
For the ambassador, this answer was not satisfactory, but it was acceptable. At least, the witcher did not seem to show any aversion toward Nilfgaardian rule. That was a good sign.
He had already been informed that he would soon be transferred north, bidding farewell to red wine and peaceful life to carry out the second stage of the plan. As for this false prophet whom the emperor was watching, or rather, Ciri's younger brother, he held the same view as de Rideaux, the farther he stayed from the North, the better.
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