This tower rose high above the wall, and the empty ground in front of it was very suitable for the defenders to make full use of their advantage. Crossbowmen hid behind good cover, shooting cold bolts down from above with a whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, easily ensuring that several waves of armed soldiers who charged up never returned.
But for Victor, this was not an insurmountable problem. The young witcher's assets were not merely powerful arms and a strong body, but also clear thinking and a nimble tongue.
There were many shrewd and capable people willing to testify to the former, while the sorceress Keira was willing to vouch for the latter. There was nothing much to say about the details. In short, it was extremely impressive, the kind of impressive where whoever used it knew exactly how impressive it was.
After observing the entire stretch of open ground, Victor was confident he could dodge the volley of bolts from above and charge through, but after he rushed over, he would still need more insurance to help the fools up there understand themselves correctly.
So he turned to the man beside him. "Geralt, I need your help. I'll charge forward first and draw most of their attention. Please follow behind me. The deterrence of two witchers will cool their boiling blood more quickly."
"I can, but perhaps I should go first. After all, when it comes to using the Quen Sign, I am more…" The White Wolf could not continue, because he saw Victor form the Quen Sign.
A golden shield appeared around the young man, clear as crystal and flowing with light. At its strongest points, it seemed almost solid. A deep memory was suddenly awakened, in more than a hundred years of his career, Geralt had only ever seen one witcher from the School of the Griffin in his youth, Jerome Moreau, display such a powerful Quen Sign. Even Master Vesemir could not do it.
How had this young little brother managed it? What sort of severe Trial of the Grasses had he undergone to push the power of his Signs to this extent in just a few months, enough to suppress a mage apprentice's "sense of magic"?
Not noticing Geralt's sudden distraction, Victor answered with full confidence, "You don't need to worry. My body reacts very quickly, especially now that I'm in excellent condition!"
The white-haired witcher did not ask why he was in excellent condition now. He simply formed the Quen Sign as well, preparing to follow the blond witcher in the charge.
"Hah!" The moment Victor started running like the wind, a commotion immediately broke out atop the tower, because he was simply charging too fast. Even Aryan could not see clearly who was rushing toward them, and all the crossbowmen had already begun firing in unison.
Geralt immediately followed. In his field of vision, he could clearly see the young man ahead of him shifting and weaving like a phantom, making unbelievable detours, advances, and retreats. This overwhelming display of pure physical ability awakened another memory, in more than a hundred years of his career, there had only been one witcher from the School of the Cat, Brehen, the Cat of Iello, who had displayed such outstanding lightning reflexes. Even Geralt himself could not do it.
That faint distraction did not affect his footwork. The White Wolf, who had not been the main focus of their attention, could accelerate at full speed. Soon, amid the gasps of everyone present, the two witchers crossed the open ground and vanished into the shadows beneath the tower.
…
They cut down the soldiers blocking their path along the way, and neither of them spoke. Geralt was immersed in his newly awakened memories, while Victor was thinking about how to move Aryan.
Like a hot knife through butter, like a raging storm, after kicking away the last man blocking the way, the witchers climbed to the top of the tower and came face to face with the theoretical leader of the rebels, Aryan La Valette.
Wearing bluish-green armor, the young warrior's chest heaved as he shouted, "The famous witcher, Geralt of Rivia. I never imagined you would sink so low as to become the king's thug! And you, Victor, my friend. Meeting you under such circumstances, I have to say, is truly regrettable…"
"My friend Aryan, under these circumstances, it would be far more regrettable if I failed to appear in time."
"There is nothing to discuss. My mind is made up. Geralt of Rivia, I hear you are the strongest swordsman in the North. It is time to prove that rumor!"
Victor's eyes swept over him. On Aryan's handsome face, anger, hatred, confusion, and many indescribable emotions were now mingled together. On the battlefield, a person's reason would drop to its lowest point, especially in a desperate situation. As for the more than fifty subordinates around him, their armor was still bright and polished, but all of them looked tense and were drenched in sweat.
Finding the opening, Victor spoke in a clear voice. "No, we have much to say. Look at the men behind you. They are willing to die for you, so let us reason this out, Aryan. Do not let excited emotions affect the functioning of reason. We have always been like this, have we not?
"Why not let the killing stop? The number of people who have died today is enough to satisfy even a demon. If you surrender, Foltest is willing to treat you and your men with courtesy. The king has also promised that as long as you and Lady Louisa are willing to kneel before him, House La Valette will continue to exist."
"Who can guarantee he won't behead all of us in the end?" the noble youth roared sharply.
"Certain secrets we share can guarantee it. I once swore to keep them for my friend until the end of my life…"
The resolve on Aryan's face suddenly collapsed by more than half. He avoided Victor's gaze. "Yes… damn it… the secrets we share. You swore on your grandfather's name…"
Although he clearly knew the occasion was extremely inappropriate, Geralt's expression still turned rather strange when he heard Aryan's words. He even nearly laughed aloud. Fortunately, Victor had attracted most of the attention, so no one noticed his odd reaction.
As Angoulême's dear uncle, of course he had heard her explain how one should view Victor's oaths sworn on his grandfather's honor.
This young man was definitely an extraordinary ruthless character. As Triss's bedmate, and having just overheard Victor's conversation with Foltest, Geralt knew very well what secret they were referring to. When Victor had sworn to keep that secret, he surely had not intended to break his oath, but even at that moment, he had not used his own name. Instead, he had decisively sworn on his grandfather's honor.
This was a young man who both valued oaths and toyed with them. His "nimbleness" was probably enough to make even the School of the Cat concede defeat. Fortunately, he was on Geralt's side. Geralt could feel that Victor had an unimaginable sense of recognition and goodwill toward him.
At this moment, that nimble young man was still working his tongue. "Baron, look down there. The king is leading a great army, while all you have are a few brave men and your honor. And after a little more time, you will not even have those left!
"Think back to when we were kidnapped together. You said it yourself, when things cannot be changed, we try to accept them. This is not a game. No one needs to die. As long as you surrender, the king will show great mercy!"
But Aryan's response was to draw his steel sword with a sharp hiss. His subordinates beside him also drew their swords, their blades reflecting sunlight in a bright sheet of glare beneath the noon sun. "Listen to me, Victor. My mother has had enough of this king's mercy! He actually wants to take away my younger brother and sister, and he wants her to admit before the whole kingdom that my father tacitly allowed her to have the king's children. And after all that, he even refuses to marry my mother!"
Swords were drawn and bows were bent, in the truest sense. Noticing that the crossbowmen who had originally been aiming downward had also turned their weapons toward the two of them, Geralt's lips curved in a faint, indifferent smile. His hand rested on his sword hilt. He was already prepared for battle.
But at this critical moment, solemn and majestic music suddenly rang out from Victor's body, low drums thudding, and a long, melancholy melody rising.
This turn came extremely abruptly. Yet strangely, when he heard this music, Aryan's attack gesture froze just as he was about to bring it down. He glared viciously at Victor's face, his teeth clenched tight, his sword hand trembling nonstop.
With a faint smile, though surrounded on all sides, Victor's voice remained fearless and coldly resolute. "Listen, this is Game of Thrones! The music I composed to mourn old Baron La Valette. Surely you have not forgotten it so quickly. Do you really want to end your life to this music today?
"Think, Aryan. What would your father do if he faced this situation? Bloodstained heroism cannot change reality, so please, put down your weapon, for the sake of the wine we drank together! For the sake of that sunset!"
The melody of Game of Thrones drifted on.
Amid the beat of the drums, Aryan's face turned as pale as a dead man's. A dying whimper suddenly escaped his throat. "Victor… if anything happens to my mother, I will find you and kill you!"
"Do not worry. I swear on my grandfather's honor, no one could harden their heart enough to hurt Lady Louisa!"
After taking several deep breaths, Aryan reversed his grip on his sword and let it fall to the ground with a clang. The subordinates following him first looked at one another. Perhaps some still felt unwilling, but in the end, they too loosened their hands and put down their weapons.
Victor took the music box from his coat and placed it in Aryan's hand, nodded to him, then walked to the battlements, removed House La Valette's family banner, and replaced it with the Temerian lily banner.
A thunderous cheer rose from below.
Seeing that the dust had settled, Foltest was in a wonderful mood. He casually grabbed a lucky man beside him. "Soldier, state your name. Wait… I have seen you before. You served me at Brenna and in the Battle of the Pontar Valley. Your name is Norman Sador, correct? Are you still a crossbowman?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Fate has not been too kind to me."
The soldier who had been recognized trembled with excitement all over. It was a mixture of excitement and emotion. His noble Majesty had actually remembered his name!
Foltest patted his shoulder. "Nonsense. Fate has been quite kind to you. She just lifted her skirt for you!
"Norman Sador, for your many years of loyal service to the king, from this moment on, you are corporal of the crossbowmen!"
The soldier shed tears of happiness and knelt down, once again swearing loyalty to the king.
Above them, the echoes still lingered, and Game of Thrones continued to play.
…
Some time later, in the Temerian encampment, the Nilfgaardian ambassador Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen touched the sun emblem on his chest and listened to the latest report his subordinate had gathered.
"…Your Excellency, that is what happened. Baron La Valette surrendered. I suspect the inner castle will not be able to stop them for long either. The king of Temeria will soon proceed to the monastery under the protection of two witchers."
"La Valette's defeat was within expectations. The problem is Victor Corion… Why is he here? Does he truly possess the ability to foresee the future and see through scenes yet to come? Why now, of all times? Why must he appear at Foltest's side?"
Having participated in a small part of the conspiracy's arrangements, the subordinate was very clear on how much the task's difficulty rose when the escort changed from one witcher to two, so he was so nervous that his forehead was covered in sweat, and he dared even less to respond to Shilard's muttering.
After pondering for a moment, the ambassador shook his gray-white head. "Forget it. By the Great Sun, we have already done what we can. Next, it depends on the witchers' performance. Who could have imagined that after being marginalized for centuries, they would once again become key players on this stage?"
The subordinate looked fearfully at his inscrutable superior.
Shilard smiled as he walked behind him, then drove a dagger straight into his heart.
"Nilfgaard will not forget your sacrifice."
…
Before the inner castle gate, an officer was shouting toward the tower. "Aryan La Valette has already ordered the castle to surrender. Open the gate up there!"
"Is the baron still alive?" someone on the tower responded.
"That is right, he is alive. Open the gate and kneel before your king, and he will forgive you!" the officer continued persuading them.
But clearly, the people on the tower were still hesitating. There was no sign they would immediately open the gate and surrender.
Arms crossed over his chest, Geralt whispered to Triss, who had arrived at the battlefield, "Looks like we are stuck between a rock and a hard place now."
The red-haired, green-eyed sorceress was dressed today in light hunting clothes. The tight outfit outlined her figure flawlessly. "Indeed. My magic is of no use right now, and if this drags on, the enemy's main force on the Pontar will force us back into the town!"
Geralt lowered his voice. "I have a suggestion. How about going back to the tents? The camp should be comfortable and empty right now. Just you and me. We could enjoy a warm little while together."
Triss smiled charmingly. "Ah! You have given me a difficult problem. That really is a tempting proposal…"
"Allow me to refuse!" Victor cut in coldly. "Do me a favor, you two. Could you flirt after taking a look at the situation? We are negotiating and fighting a war over here."
Although Geralt and Triss had spoken very quietly, Victor possessed extraordinary hearing, so their whispers were as clear as if they had been spoken right beside his ear.
The sorceress covered her mouth and giggled.
The White Wolf responded with direct sarcasm. "I dare say that if Keira appeared here, you would not even ask. You would just pull her away and vanish."
The blond witcher shrugged and made no comment.
At that moment, a disturbance broke out on the tower. A group of soldiers in blue appeared and began fighting for control of the gate. Among them, Victor saw a familiar figure, the Golden Eagle of Temeria, Angoulême.
No wonder the Blue Stripes were not beside the king today. So they had been sent to carry out a special mission.
Not long after, the chaos ended. The drawbridge of the inner castle gate crashed down. Standing at the other end of the bridgehead was a man with a black headscarf wrapped around his head, a long square face, and a stern expression, the commander of the Blue Stripes, Vernon Roche.
Victor, Geralt, and Triss followed in the king's footsteps and walked onto the drawbridge.
"Your Majesty." When they reached him, the Blue Stripes commander stopped and bowed deeply. Around his neck was an exquisite iron chain ornament.
"Vernon Roche, well done." The king smiled and patted his shoulder in encouragement. "Now tell me about the situation inside the town."
"Your Majesty, as you instructed, the Blue Stripes crossed the river in fishing boats and launched a surprise attack on the town. We destroyed most of their defensive facilities. The remaining La Valette troops are gathering near the temple to establish a strongpoint."
Foltest revealed a self-satisfied smile. "As expected. And the baroness?"
"She is alive and safely hidden far away."
"I hope nothing has happened to her."
"Please rest assured, Your Majesty. As you commanded, she is unharmed and still as beautiful as ever. But the children are not with her…"
"I am sure you know where they are."
"Yes, Your Majesty. In the monastery. But we have not yet brought that area under control…"
"No matter. I trust your efficiency."
Listening from the side to the conversation between the king and the Blue Stripes commander, Victor immediately set aside his worries. Clearly, Aryan's concerns had been entirely unnecessary. Foltest had not been merely putting on an act. He truly cared about Lady Louisa.
A ruthless yet passionate king.
…Suddenly, he furrowed his brow, because the wolf medallion was vibrating violently. He looked at Geralt. Geralt looked at him as well. Then, at the same time, both of them sensed something. They suddenly turned toward the sky.
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