Not long after noon, the sky turned lead gray. Then a steady rain drifted down, sprinkling fine, even droplets that soaked people through.
Enduring wet clothes and bone-biting cold, Victor and Angoulême hunched their shoulders and hurried along the road, making it through the city gate before dark and entering Rivia, the city where a racial riot had once broken out, leading to the deaths of Geralt and Yennefer, and where Dandelion had sworn never to return.
They tied their horses to the hitching post outside the inn. Several drunken drinkers were sitting on the ground, waving their fists and roaring at a woman passing by with a child, frightening her into quickening her steps and fleeing.
"This is the kind of place you stayed in back then?" Victor asked. "I dare say there are definitely more decadent bastards like this inside."
"Mm... I remember it wasn't this awful when I came with Uncle Geralt last time. That's right! It's this place, the sign says the Cock and Hen Inn. I wouldn't remember it wrong."
One drinker braced both hands on the ground, vomiting until his whole body convulsed. Amber snorted and backed away several steps, trying to keep clear of the stranger's vomit.
"Bastard, what are you looking at?" one of his companions roared. "A southern whore and her lover!"
"My dear," Victor narrowed his eyes, "I know what you're thinking. My only request is that you don't cause a commotion."
"Don't worry. I still have enough patience to wait until dark."
The two walked into the inn. The first thing that drew the eye was a large oil painting hanging on the wall. It depicted a long-bearded monster holding a blood-dripping axe. The plaque beneath it read, Mahakam dwarf, malicious traitor.
Pushing up his sunglasses to make sure the mutation in his eyes was hidden, Victor walked toward the innkeeper.
...
Some time passed... inside the most luxurious and comfortable room in the Cock and Hen Inn.
"Hiss... It's terrifyingly cold. If the temperature drops any further, I think it's going to snow!" Wrapped in a thick blanket after changing clothes, Angoulême curled up beside the fireplace to warm herself. Catherine's feathers drooped, and she looked just as listless.
Victor, beside them, gave no reply. He was setting up a small pot to boil vitality broth, his right hand stirring mechanically, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Vic, what are you thinking about? You've been distracted on the road these past few days!"
"...Me? I've actually been thinking about what Leo said."
"...That Vattier de Rideaux?"
"Mm... Though rationally speaking, what he said doesn't really mean much, I still can't let it go. It feels as if some part is missing!"
Angoulême yawned. She had not forgotten what Leo had said either, but she did not feel it was important. At most, it sounded sensational.
A few days earlier, just as they were about to cross Theodula Pass, the egg-headed witcher had suddenly appeared. He had come all that way specifically to pass a message from his girlfriend Sasha to Victor, explaining why she had been hunted.
It could be said that it was precisely because the manor owner had not questioned anything and had left in such an easygoing manner that the female spy had finally relaxed enough to take the initiative and explain.
"Do you believe kings can be assassinated?" Angoulême chuckled. "Of course I believe it! Even though doing that is treasonous, it's not as if no king has ever been assassinated before. That de Rideaux fellow is a viscount, just like you, and he's far too petty. He sent the Professor all this way to die just over one sentence!"
"That's not quite how you should put it. It depends on the identity of the person saying it... Given his position as the head of the intelligence service, if that sentence leaked out, and then a king died soon after, he would more or less find himself in some trouble.
"After all, ending noble bloodlines and murdering kings are crimes that, on the surface, no ruler could possibly forgive. And from the fact that Vattier sent someone to hunt her down, we know he definitely had a reason to keep it secret!
"...Do you think it could be that assassins sent by Nilfgaard are currently making intensive preparations, and if the intelligence leaks, it will spook the target?"
Lazily tearing apart chicken, Angoulême fed Catherine strip after strip. "Who could it spook? Any king on the public stage must have dealt with conspiracies and assassinations before. Maybe I should ask instead, which king doesn't guard against assassination?"
Her point was quite convincing. Victor rubbed the new stubble on his chin. "That makes sense. So it should be a long-accumulated murderous intent, one that was triggered by this topic...."
"Hahahaha! Don't give up so quickly. Maybe someone else wants to assassinate a king, and Vattier is afraid of scaring them off!" Angoulême said casually.
Victor refuted her easily. "On this continent, there are very few forces with both the ability and motive to assassinate a king!"
...
Leaving the Cock and Hen Inn, departing Rivia, and traveling north for about half a month, one could reach Vengerberg, the capital of Aedirn.
And in the forest not far from the Aedirnian capital, Kaedwen's royal advisor, Sheala de Tancarville, was currently marveling at the scene before her.
An effective radius of more than sixty yards, with killing power that froze heaven and earth. It had actually come from such a tiny Northern Wind bomb!
Although it had been strengthened by her own magical infusion, the effect was still mainly founded upon the bomb's essential nature. She had never expected beforehand that the two Northern Wind bombs the witcher had produced, said to be ancestral heirlooms, could contain such a vast infusion of magic and create unprecedented power.
One had been used up in the test explosion. Gazing at the only remaining Northern Wind in her hand, she suddenly felt somewhat reluctant to hand it over to the witcher.
But after considering it for a while, she still abandoned the tempting thought of taking the Northern Wind apart to study it carefully. It had already been an exquisitely made alchemical product, and now with an excessive amount of magic poured into it, it could be said to be ready to go off at a touch! It would be more suitable to use it to entertain Abelard of Hagge!
If this great killing weapon suddenly appeared, then even a battle mage could only protect a very limited area. Regicide was already a very difficult thing, affected by many random factors. To make it completely certain was impossible.
"Then the rest will be left to the witcher and fate!" A faint smile appeared at the stern corners of the sorceress's mouth. "In any case, whether they succeed or fail, they all have to die!"
The bushes rustled. The witcher she had arranged to meet had arrived.
...
Moving the view away from Vengerberg and heading south, back to Rivia's Cock and Hen Inn, Victor and Angoulême's discussion about the truth was still ongoing.
The young man shook his head. "...No... this isn't a prophecy, nor is it a vision of a fragment of the future, but I just can't let it go!
"There's a faint sense of crisis drifting around. I keep feeling that something is wrong somewhere, yet I don't know where the problem is. Though saying it this way sounds rather convoluted, you'll definitely understand!"
Angoulême sat up from her half-reclining posture and scratched her hair. "If you put it like that, I understand. Just like when I get close to a dangerous monster and my instincts keep screaming, you feel that a king will die because of this?"
"I don't know, and I can't be sure, but I just feel that something is happening! It shouldn't be fatal, otherwise I'd be even more alert, but it's not irrelevant either, otherwise I would have discarded it very quickly."
She held a fist before her lips. "Then why not look at it from another angle and go back to Sasha herself? You said she was a sorceress's spy and had become involved in the Nilfgaardian Empire's power struggle?"
Seven-colored light shone in the small pot. Victor set down the stirring rod and used a ladle to pour the vitality broth into test tubes, scoop by scoop.
"Mm, that's right. Carthia van Canten's superior is Assire var Anahid. Originally, the person who should have sheltered her after she fled to Beauclair was Fringilla Vigo."
"Then perhaps the words whose problem we can't see would lead to a brand-new discovery if a sorceress heard them. Maybe the matter is connected to the Empire's inner secrets?"
"Well said!" As if awakened from a dream by a single sentence, Victor happily reached out and ruffled Angoulême's hair. "I'm going to open another room to contact Keira. As a reward, this best room tonight is yours to enjoy alone!"
After saying that, the witcher hurriedly left the room.
...
Leaving the Cock and Hen Inn again, departing Rivia, and traveling south for about half a month, one could reach the Cockatrice Inn. This business inn in the outskirts of Beauclair was famous for its lobster chowder.
And Leo, the witcher staying there, was naturally tasting this delicacy. Scallion pancakes and thick soup truly were a perfect match.
He had just finished Sasha's request and returned after heading north to tell Victor some information. Although from the other party's expression and Angoulême's reaction, he could easily read, "That's it? You rushed over just to tell us this?"
Even so, he was still in a good mood at this moment. Leo had long felt that if he did not explain the cause and effect clearly, he would be letting down the brotherhood between witchers. He was willing to make this trip.
After devouring everything and almost eating and drinking his fill, he suddenly saw a familiar figure approaching. The newcomer's steps were steady. He waved, signaling Leo not to get up, then directly pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
Dettlaff van der Eretein, the legendary higher vampire. The arrogance of his past was gone, and an unconcealable irritation marked his pale face. "My friend, Leo, I am sorry to appear so suddenly, but I fear I need your help!"
Knowing very clearly that if the situation were not urgent, the other would never lose composure like this, Leo patted his chest without the slightest hesitation. "Dettlaff, as long as you ask!"
The vampire took a deep breath. "I... I think I saw her. Though it was only for an instant, it should have been her, no mistake!
"Listen, Leo. I need you to use a witcher's expertise to help me find a woman. Her name is Rhenawedd, the light of my life, my love, my soul!"
With some understanding of Dettlaff's manner and conduct, Leo did not doubt the sincerity of his words in the slightest. "Relax, my friend. Now tell me the details. Where did you run into her? Were there any other people there at the time? Why didn't you chase her down on the spot? In any case, trust me. As long as she is still in Toussaint, I will find her for you, whether I have to search heaven or sea!"
"Thank you, my friend. It happened like this. Today I went to my usual bootblack's stand in Beauclair...."
The conversation between the higher vampire and the witcher continued for a very long time.
...
Moving the view away from the Cockatrice Inn and heading north, back to Rivia's Cock and Hen Inn, it was already deep night. Victor stared helplessly at the white zircon in his hand, Keira's spell mark, and used the Aard Sign for the Nth time to trigger its signal.
Unsurprisingly, several minutes passed, and the zircon gave no response. It was still just a zircon. There was neither any reply, nor did it turn into an elder. Clearly, this wicked woman had made up her mind to make him go to the capital and lick... correction, go to Vizima to find her.
"Damn woman! So willful, so spoiled, so reckless. You must be punished thoroughly! Just wait until I get to Vizima, I'll teach you a lesson!"
After cursing hatefully, Victor put the zircon back into his herbal satchel, then took out another ruby and examined it. This was the spell token he had picked up on Undvik.
If his guess was correct, this spell mark should be able to contact a certain Imperial mage. The problem was that he did not know whether the person on the other end was Assire var Anahid.
Moreover, if it really was her, then Victor and Assire had some grudges between them. She had once plotted against his brother Hjalmar an Craite on Undvik, attempting to influence the result of Skellige's king-selection.
"If you repay injury with kindness, what is left for kindness?"
While thinking, the young man looked out through the window and was surprised to discover that the Winter Maiden was hanging high in a corner of the sky.
The brilliant starry sky above seemed to be saying, "Winter is coming!"
Confirming the thought in his heart, Victor smiled freely and put the ruby back into his herbal satchel.
He decided to change the itinerary. This year, he would not return to Kaer Morhen to winter. He would turn toward Vizima instead and warn Keira Metz to be careful and on guard!
After learning back then that Jacques had been dealt with by the White Wolf, both of them had believed that Vizima had survived its crisis and would be as stable as Mount Tai from then on.
But at this moment, Victor suddenly realized that after marrying off Adda the White, if King Foltest, still in the prime of life, died by assassination, Temeria, which had no recognized heir, would be in extreme danger and would truly face a crisis that could overturn the entire country!
Comparing it with his memories of his previous life, the more the witcher thought about it, the more a chill crawled through him. "That's it. This is probably what's going on! I was happy too early a few months ago. The true main reason that led to Temeria's rapid fall was not Jacques. It should have been Foltest's assassination! This also perfectly explains what that faint, nagging sense of crisis in my heart is about!"
On this very night, the leader of the Phantom Troupe, who always had a plan, began drafting a new travel plan. He would abandon his trip to Vengerberg and return to Vizima!
...
The next morning, perhaps this should be called, when it rains, it pours, correction, snows all night. In any case, when the Phantom Troupe set out from the Cock and Hen Inn, the first snow was drifting down.
After leaving Rivia, they first had to travel southwest, follow the Yaruga, and circle around the Mahakam Mountains that separated Temeria and Aedirn before they could return to Vizima through Upper Sodden.
The season had entered winter, and snowflakes filled the road. This stretch of travel was not as easy as imagined, but it was not too terrible either. The more troublesome part was Angoulême's muttering complaints. The promised Trial of the Grasses would be delayed again because of this.
Fortunately, when they reached the banks of the Yaruga, Victor finally thought of a solution, and only then did the young woman become happy again.
They crossed the border of Upper Sodden and passed through the city of Maribor. This place was not only the hometown of Triss Merigold, it also had a legendary history. It was here that the great mage Alzur once used Alzur's Double-Cross for the first time to summon a giant centipede that destroyed half the city.
Because of this, the Phantom Troupe stayed in the city for one extra day. The wounds of the past had long since been healed, but the remaining ruins still possessed sightseeing value.
After several more days of travel, when Lake Vizima came into distant view, what also entered their sight was Vizima on the lakeshore.
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