The Three-Sided Spire, the hall on its top floor had sheer cliffs on three sides. On the surface, the only entrance and exit was the great door where everyone stood. Apart from that, there were only empty windows.
Geralt took two steps back, put down the sword, and tried to explain, but Roche and the Blue Stripes, whose heads were clouded by rage, could not hear a thing. Seeing was more persuasive than anything else. They rushed forward, beat him, and took out shackles and manacles to arrest him.
Fortunately, Roche still retained a trace of reason. He knew there were many doubts that required investigation and trial, and did not draw his sword to kill Geralt on the spot. But he did not stop his men from venting their emotions.
In that same instant of chaos, some people firmly believed the man before them was the murderer, but some people did not doubt him for even a second. For example, Viscount Victor Corion. Even if the entire world said Geralt had done it, he would still be willing to believe in the White Wolf's innocence.
After confirming that Geralt would suffer flesh wounds but was not in mortal danger… Victor released the hand pressed to his sword hilt. Noticing that Triss Merigold had also quietly dispersed the magic in her hand, they exchanged a glance.
Walking inside to the window, Victor, who had long been mentally prepared, used his extraordinary vision to stare at the large footprints on the windowsill, and at the small boat that was already only a black dot under the sunset, proving the worst imagination he had held beforehand.
…
After several hours of chaos, Victor entered the tent and saw Angoulême. His first and second sentences were, respectively, "Temeria is finished! Pack up quickly and leave!"
Then the witcher was shoved hard. The person who entered the tent behind him was Keira Metz. "Vic, we need to have a proper talk! Angoulême, please give us some space. Thank you."
The sorceress placed special emphasis on the word "proper," and it did not sound like she had any intention of making it proper.
Having no intention of participating in a quarrel between a man and a woman, Angoulême silently stood up and returned to her own tent to pack her things. Her mood was terrible right now. The king's sudden death and Geralt's arrest had both struck her hard.
Sitting across the table, Keira stared deeply at Victor. She had never looked at him this seriously before. She looked at him so carefully that she even suddenly felt he seemed somewhat unfamiliar.
"What exactly is going on? We all read Geralt's statement. He said the kingslayer used wings that could glide to escape. If I had heard that two years ago, I would have said it was complete fantasy! But now, I just so happen to know someone who is skilled at making that sort of thing!
"Add to that the fact that after you rushed from Toussaint to Vizima, you have been nervous the entire time. I ask you, does Foltest's death have anything to do with you?"
Looking at the petite sorceress, the witcher did not want to lie to her. Besides, since she was asking so specifically, she probably already had an answer in her heart. Something like a glider was not exactly common merchandise.
"All right! I admit that, without knowing the truth, I provided quite a lot of equipment to the other party."
"Who exactly is that person?" Keira gritted her teeth.
Victor shook his head. "I cannot tell you right now. He is my friend. I will not betray him, but I will stop him."
"He is the kingslayer! He killed Foltest!"
Remembering the empty gaze of Foltest's corpse, Victor's expression turned complicated. He deeply doubted whether he could change "destiny."
When he wanted to preserve Temeria's national fate, and had even deduced the kingslayer's target, the result was that he had not only failed to prevent Foltest's death, but had also played a key logistical role in it.
Could it be that destiny was borrowing his hands to realize its will?
"I know. I know what he has done. But first, he is my friend. Keira, come with me! Temeria is finished. I mean it. What comes next is the future shown by the Burning Omen. Vizima is destined to fall into a sea of flames!"
Slap! Keira struck Victor across the face.
The sorceress's presence was intimidating. "Stop talking nonsense. Temeria will not collapse! Although there will be some chaos at the regency council next, everything will get better! Anais and Boussy possess the king's blood. One of them will become ruler and end the other nobles' extravagant hopes of reaching for the throne!"
…
"After a long quarrel, two proud people both firmly believed they were right, and neither was willing to retreat! And so, as he finally watched Keira's departing back, Victor was suddenly overcome with great grief. He had never imagined that parting could be so painful. In this moment, the moment he lost Keira, his heart was about to shatter!"
"...."
Victor slowly turned his gaze away from Keira's back and shifted it toward the darkness in the corner of the tent. Squatting there was the aggravating Angoulême. Her two thick eyebrows lifted and her eyes rolled round and round, giving her an innocent look.
He breathed out. "May I ask, my lady, how much did you hear?"
She scratched her hair. "From… 'I never want to see you again.'"
"Very good, Angoulême. Now allow me to educate you on one more very important matter. A so-called real man must be able to forgive a woman's duplicitous lies!" As Victor spoke, he looked up at the starry sky, raising his chin at a forty-five-degree angle. From behind, he looked so handsome it was a complete mess.
Angoulême jumped up from the ground. "Two questions. First, I'm a woman, so I don't need to learn how to be a real man. Second, why aren't you scolding me for adding narration?"
"I'll let it pass this time. You came at exactly the right moment, exactly the right moment to make the last trace of my confusion disappear!"
Angoulême's nonsense truly improved Victor's mood, and Angoulême's very existence was even proof that destiny could be changed.
There was no destiny that could not be changed, only people who were not strong enough. This time, the change had failed only because the weight had not been enough. If he were strong enough, even a casual move could produce a huge influence, and naturally make the trajectory of history deviate from its original direction.
"Then what is our next goal?"
"Wait until midnight, infiltrate the castle dungeon, and we will first get your uncle out!"
…
At midnight, near the dripping, pitch-black dungeon of La Valette Castle, Victor and Angoulême changed into dark blue clothing and moved while avoiding the guards patrolling with torches.
The reason they wore dark blue was because tonight was a new moon. In faint light, if they dressed entirely in black, their silhouettes would instead stand out more. Incidentally, dark blue cloth made from natural dyes contained iron, which could prevent attacks from venomous snakes, mosquitoes, and other insects.
However, their infiltration was soon forced to stop, because they were discovered by another group of experts, Temeria's Blue Stripes. Ves personally brought several people and blocked them on the road.
Dealing with them would not be difficult, but since they were acquaintances, it would be awkward to kill them. Fortunately, Vernon Roche appeared very quickly, sent everyone else away, and spoke privately with the Phantom Troupe.
"May I ask what you two have come here to do, dressed so nicely? That color scheme has quite a bit of Blue Stripes style!"
"The matter is very simple. We are here to get Geralt out. You should know it cannot have been him, and he is our friend. I cannot let him die here under false accusations!"
Hearing Victor's words, Roche hesitated for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment. "All right! There is some intelligence I can let you know. According to Geralt, the kingslayer is a bald giant. And according to information from my informant, one week ago, he was in Flotsam with Iorveth.
"You may not know who this Iorveth is. All you need to know is that the commando unit under him is the Blue Stripes' greatest opponent. They enjoy using our clothing as masks. Of course, we do the same."
Hearing the description of a bald giant, and then hearing Iorveth's name, Victor remained expressionless. Angoulême also had no reaction. This girl could now hide her joy and anger in her heart. She had finally been tempered by experience.
The witcher smiled. "Then what do you mean by telling me all this?"
"I want to tell you not to worry about Geralt. He has already reached an agreement with me. Very soon, he will escape from prison without a sound. Triss has obtained a boat at the harbor. Then we will take a small number of elites and follow the river north to Flotsam to investigate. There is plenty of room on the boat. Perhaps you are also interested in traveling with us?"
As expected of someone who could do real work. Victor stroked the stubble on his chin. "I see. Your suggestion is very moving, but please forgive my refusal. Although I am also concerned about the kingslayer's whereabouts, I must travel by land and first make a trip to the Temple of Melitele in Ellander!"
"All right, then. I look forward to seeing you in Flotsam." The commander brushed past him, then turned back. "Wait, I almost forgot. There is one thing I think you will be interested in! As far as I know, besides Geralt, you have another friend, Aryan. And after the king's death, that gentleman's situation has not been too good. If you want to know more detailed recent information, I suggest you go take a look in that direction."
Victor sniffed. "Thank you for the reminder, Roche. I solemnly place you on my list of friends. If one day you encounter a great misfortune, I will remember today and extend a helping hand."
"Has anyone ever told you your way of speaking is infuriating?"
"You are not the first, and you will not be the last."
They proceeded in the direction Roche had pointed out.
…
The dungeon in the dark was certainly no place of happiness or goodness, but Baron Aryan La Valette had never imagined that one day, beneath his own castle, he would suffer the ill fortune of the "ultimate humiliation."
The noble youth was suspended from chains. In front of him was a disgusting, deformed torturer, speaking to him.
"Hehehe, I've been looking forward to this day since five years ago. Sniff, sniff, the smell under these arms is truly intoxicating! Next comes the main event, the… pfft!"
A sword pierced into the back of his head, freezing his obscene expression there forever. Victor emerged from the darkness, searched out the keys, and opened the iron shackles.
"My dear Aryan, I do not seem to have heard your thanks. Could it be that you are so happy you forgot? Or are you dissatisfied that I interrupted? Speaking of which, how does your family's castle screen talent? You have specimens like this too?"
"I only want to curse you with every known swear word. Can you tell me how the promised courteous treatment suddenly turned into this kind of treatment?"
Aryan, released from the chains, fell into Victor's arms.
"Because Foltest is dead."
"Oh, who did it? What a pity. I had hoped to do it myself. Do you know my mother's whereabouts? No one has hurt her, right?"
"If Foltest were alive, I am certain she would be living very comfortably. At least what I heard from the king's orders was that the Blue Stripes should protect her as if protecting a priceless treasure. But now, seeing the sumptuous course you have suffered, I worry my grandfather's honor will suffer severe damage."
"That bastard actually left her among the dogs he keeps. At the very least, he should have sent a noble of baronet rank to protect her!"
"Believe me, these hounds are the best! Those lovely nobles are circling like vultures over a corpse, waiting for the chance to seize your younger brother and sister and fight over Foltest's inheritance."
Aryan could not answer immediately. Instead, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. The injuries he had suffered under torture were quite serious…
"We should first consider how to preserve your life. Drink this potion and sleep for a while!"
"Wait. You know that, to me, honor is more important than life. I must… find the people who tortured me just now. They used my finger to press down on a sinful confession!"
"Drink the potion and sleep. Leave the rest to me." Victor poured a tube of potion into Aryan's mouth, making him drift into a heavy sleep.
This was Vic's Old Recipe newly made today in the misty valley. Its medicinal effect was gentler. It did not have the original side effect that engraved itself into the soul. It would only make him sleep for eight hours.
…
After placing Aryan where he was to recuperate, Victor soon heard the voice of Baroness Mary Louisa La Valette nearby.
"Damn you, you actually… ah!"
Whoosh! The sound of a whip cracking.
"Hehehe, my lady, I must carry out my orders!"
Louisa cursed angrily, "Whose orders are these?… Ah!"
Whoosh! Another whip crack.
"That is not important. What is important is what I want you to do!"
"Then… then what is that?"
"Please sign this, my lady. This document will be used to confirm that King Foltest is not the father of your little bastards!"
"Then whose would they be? No… you shameless…!"
"Wait, don't, no… hiss, ahhh! Stop! Whatever you want me to sign, I will sign!"
Receiving a definite answer, the executioner revealed a cruel and wicked lewd smile. He moved the red-hot branding iron he had been using to threaten her away from her elders. Then his expression froze, as the Golden Eagle pierced through the back of his head and emerged from his mouth.
Angoulême pulled out her sword with a grin and kicked the executioner down.
"You… you are the one beside Victor… I trust you will not leave me here. You will put me down, yes?" Aryan's mother asked the young woman. Her current posture was similar to Aryan's. She was suspended from a torture rack.
The voice that answered her came from the side. It was Victor's voice. The witcher stood in the corner with his back to her. "There is no need to doubt that, my lady. As your son's friend, we will protect you well. Aryan is nearby. We will find a way to send both of you away safely."
The baroness relaxed, allowing Angoulême to use the keys to open her shackles, help her put on her clothes, and finally wrap her in a cloak for warmth and cover.
Victor was holding two documents and reading them. One was the document the executioner had just wanted the baroness to sign. "I, Mary Louisa La Valette, admit that Anais and Boussy are children born of incest between my son Aryan and me. Signature."
The other was a confession marked with a fingerprint. "I, Aryan La Valette, admit that Anais and Boussy are children born of incest between my mother Louisa and me. Fingerprint."
Truly disgusting nobles…
Louisa walked beside Victor. "Thank you for saving my life. Aryan mentioned his friendship with you to me many times, but I did not imagine that under such circumstances, you would still step forward out of loyalty!… These two documents are…?"
Victor shook his head and snapped his fingers. Igni ignited the documents, burning the malice cleanly away. Then he raised his index finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. The clacking footsteps of iron boots were approaching from afar.
When the door opened, the one who entered was none other than the Nilfgaardian ambassador Shilard. His entourage consisted of six fully armed heavy-armored soldiers. The armor of the Great Sun was quite conspicuous in the North.
Seeing Victor and Angoulême, he placed a hand over his chest in surprise without losing his courtesy. "Good evening. I am very pleased to discover someone with the same idea as I, helping the former mistress of this castle, Baroness La Valette. As expected of Lord Victor, champion of the knights' tournament!"
Louisa asked, "Ambassador, we have never had dealings with each other. Please tell me plainly what your purpose is."
Shilard said, "My lady, there is no need to be so guarded. I have come to help you. Or perhaps one could say I have come to offer you a suggestion?"
As for this white-haired ambassador with the hooked nose, Victor was not clear about his intentions. In any case, it would be nothing beyond winning over, sowing discord, conspiracy, and schemes.
"A suggestion one cannot refuse?" the witcher said mockingly.
"House La Valette never considers siding with Nilfgaard!"
"My lady, Baroness, everything changes. There is nothing in this world that does not change. Now is the time to adapt to the new order, especially at this moment, after the king's passing. Your family needs protection!"
Something in the white-haired old man's words moved her. Louisa hesitated for a moment. "Anais and Boussy, what about my children?"
Shilard revealed a sly smile. "In the upper levels of the castle. They remain safe and sound even now. If you can accept the Empire's protection and endure Nilfgaardians at your side, then I can guarantee their safety and yours from now on. Of course, I expect no return."
"Free things are always the most expensive." Victor gave his final reminder.
Louisa waved a hand. "Ambassador, your words contradict themselves, and your conspiracy will not work on me either. But so be it. Take me to see my children immediately!"
She turned to Victor and bowed farewell. "Victor, I am very sorry, but I must think of my children. I do not know whether you…?"
Victor shrugged. "Do not worry about it. I trust Ambassador Shilard will make proper arrangements for you. We will meet again in the future."
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