The good fight had already been fought...
It was shortly after noon when Victor and Dandelion left the Ladies' Secret Chamber to eat the golden sturgeon recommended by the bard.
Flotsam was an important transportation hub on the Pontar River. It stood near the borders of Aedirn, Kaedwen, Temeria, and Redania. Its irreplaceable geographical position brought the town prosperity, thriving commerce, and an endless stream of wealth.
Its living conditions could not compare with those of a royal capital, but they were still vastly superior to those of an ordinary village or small town. The streets, for example, were not paved with stone, but public latrines had been placed at regular intervals, at least sparing pedestrians from unpleasant surprises beneath every step.
Flotsam also possessed one facility no ordinary village would ever have.
Victor noticed it because of the surging crowd and stopped in his tracks. Somehow, he had failed to discover yesterday that the town possessed a gallows.
Built from hardwood, the gallows was both spacious and imposing. At that moment, it was performing its function to the fullest, accommodating five condemned prisoners while also providing a platform for a public speech.
All five prisoners were elves, both men and women. Their hands were tied behind their backs as they stood upon trapdoors, nooses around their necks, serving as the speaker's backdrop.
The speaker was a large, muscular, bald man. He had broad ears, a prosperous belly, and a chest thrust proudly forward. Orange-yellow puffed sleeves concealed the muscles of his arms, while a long sword hung from his waist.
He wore no beard. Short, thin eyebrows and a bulbous nose stood above tiny eyes compressed by the heavy flesh of his face. Those eyes glittered sharply.
His voice was powerful enough to remain clear even amid the noisy crowd.
"Listen to me! Several days ago, as already announced, a tragic event occurred during the siege of La Valette Castle. King Foltest was vilely murdered!
"I have now obtained conclusive intelligence that the wicked Scoia'tael lurking in the forest were indeed involved in this monstrous crime! Therefore, not one of you can consider yourselves safe.
"Later today, wagons loaded with arms will enter the streets of Flotsam. I hereby declare a state of emergency throughout the town. Every citizen must arm themselves and remain ready for battle at all times, so that you may avenge your fallen king!
"Now, let us begin by hanging these five thieves and collecting the first payment of blood owed to the king!"
The speaker waved both arms, stirring the crowd into cheers.
The executioners then climbed onto the platform and kicked the mechanisms open one after another, releasing the support beneath each prisoner's feet.
The trapdoors opened.
With sounds somewhere between sharp cracks and muffled thuds, the elves disappeared one by one. The ropes trembled, then snapped taut.
Victor had witnessed scenes far bloodier than this, but seeing this form of "justice" carried out for the first time still made him uncomfortable.
His expression stood in stark contrast to the delighted, excited faces surrounding him.
"What a wonderful speech. The only thing he forgot was to shout, 'Kill every nonhuman!' Let me guess, that rabble-rouser on the platform must be..."
"Bernard Loredo, Commandant of Flotsam," Dandelion finished, his own expression equally unpleasant. "For the love of the gods, let's get out of here! That bastard nearly hanged Zoltan and me a few days ago!"
The witcher smiled and gestured for the bard to lead the way, following his hurried steps away from the crowded square.
Victor placed a hand on the poet's shoulder.
"What happened? What did you and Zoltan do to get yourselves arrested?"
Dandelion shifted uncomfortably.
"Well... Zoltan was accused of collaborating with the Scoia'tael. As for me, forgive me for choosing to remain silent regarding the finer details.
"To summarize, following an unfortunate incident involving twin prostitutes, the town watch, a dog, a cat, and an oil lamp, I found myself innocently standing on the gallows in the town square."
"Could you translate that into a language I understand?"
"I accidentally burned down a watchtower."
Victor burst out laughing.
"You bastard! You fucking deserved to be hanged! So Geralt saved you?"
"Yes. Zoltan and I still aren't permitted to leave town. Loredo struck a bargain with Geralt. Once he kills the Kayran, Loredo will issue us pardons."
Dandelion looked thoroughly annoyed as he spoke.
"How did you end up traveling with the dwarf again?"
"Oh, that is a profoundly moving tale, guaranteed to bring tears to your eyes! Without red wine, golden sturgeon, and basil-roasted chicken, I refuse to utter a single word.
"I originally intended it as a surprise. Zoltan is actually waiting for me so we can eat together. Why not let him tell you himself?"
"Nothing involving the two of you has ever qualified as a pleasant surprise. There is always shock, but never pleasure."
...
Some time later.
Bang!
The dwarf slammed his cup heavily onto the table.
"That's a sweeping generalization! Good things occasionally happen to us. How can you say there are never any pleasant surprises?"
Zoltan Chivay, the familiar dwarf with the mohawk, wiped his ale-soaked beard with his sleeve and indignantly defended his reputation.
Victor and Dandelion wielded their knives and forks together, feasting upon delicious roasted sturgeon.
The fish was rich in collagen, carried no unpleasant smell, and practically melted in their mouths.
The three of them were dining at a restaurant near the harbor.
Both men knew that Victor was an exceedingly generous spender, so naturally they had made no attempt to save his money. They had ordered three whole golden sturgeons, roasted chicken, bread with gravy, beer, and spirits until the table was completely covered.
Naturally, no gathering like this would be complete without Vizima Champion.
The witcher swallowed a large mouthful and licked the foam from the corner of his lips.
"Tell me, Zoltan. What is married life like? Why did you abandon your newlywed wife to wander around with Dandelion?
"He claims you have a profoundly moving tale guaranteed to make people weep. Did you discover after the wedding that your wife had been unfaithful, and that she was already several months pregnant before you even touched her?"
Victor's words were so vicious that Dandelion sprayed out a mouthful of beer, then burst into roaring laughter.
Zoltan's face turned slightly green, but there was little he could do to the witcher paying for the meal.
The old dwarf sighed.
"First tell me where Angoulême is. Why isn't she with you?"
Victor spread his hands.
"The fledgling has spread her wings and is attempting to fly on her own. She wants to solve a problem in her own way. I merely need to prepare myself to clean up her mess afterward."
Zoltan nodded and asked no further questions.
He lifted his cup and drained it in several deep gulps.
"My wedding is off. Some loose-tongued bastard spread the story that I took part in the Vizima uprising, so the Breckenriggs broke off the engagement.
"My prospective father-in-law didn't want a rebel firebrand joining the family...
"Innkeeper! Another drink! I must say, you water your alcohol far too heavily here. It tastes like old vinegar!"
The bard shook his head and interrupted.
"You're telling the story without a beginning or an end. How is anyone supposed to understand? Let me explain.
"This is what happened. One week after Grand Master Jacques de Aldersberg died, we rushed to Mahakam to prepare for the wedding. Zoltan bought an absolutely magnificent doublet, a pair of traditional Geribuldi crackowes, and a jadestone as large as my fist as a gift for Eudora!
"We chose an establishment called the Tight Lane for the bachelor party. That proved to be the final comfort in the entire Mahakaman catastrophe."
Dandelion folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"The following day, we visited the Breckenriggs family. They welcomed us inside, and everyone sat down to talk.
"The discussion began with the superiority of Mahakaman mining techniques and continued until dinnertime.
"Just as I began to believe that I understood more about mining than I ever had before, they served the soup..."
Zoltan indignantly interrupted.
"It was so quiet you could've heard a pin hit the floor. Old Breckenriggs suddenly stood and began preaching.
"'A true dwarf devotes himself to mining instead of chasing fame upon the battlefield.'
"Damn it, Victor, you won't believe this, but they served us duck blood soup! It was as black as tar. They must have boiled whole lumps of coal in the pot.
"'Eat,' Breckenriggs said, then he served us two enormous bowls of something that looked like shit. Miserable old bastard. I hope his entire mine collapses on his head."
After that, neither Zoltan nor Dandelion appeared interested in describing the finer details.
The insult had clearly hurt both of them deeply, especially because they had been unable to retaliate.
The dwarf spat to the side and lifted his cup.
"Come on, then! Here's to this dog's life.
"I worked hard for more than six years and wore my fingers to the bone. I patiently endured endless lectures from that old tyrant Breckenriggs. I bought jewelry...
"And when she broke off the engagement, I was learning the gavotte."
Zoltan did not use a single insult against his former fiancée, Eudora.
That alone told Victor how deeply he had been wounded.
Victor raised his cup.
"A noble heart is a priceless treasure. Missing her chance to marry you will remain her lifelong regret. I believe you deserve a better woman."
"Exactly! Damn it, I'm going to write a poem about the greedy Breckenriggs family. Every dwarf in Mahakam will learn that any man foolish enough to marry one of their daughters will be squeezed dry of everything he possesses!"
Dandelion raised his cup to conclude the matter, and the three of them drank together.
...
They continued eating, drinking, and exchanging cups.
Zoltan's ability to boast had not diminished in the slightest over the years. Today, his story concerned Saskia, the Saint of Aedirn.
She was the daughter of an Aedirnian farmer and had grown up on a farm.
During the Second War for Upper Aedirn, she had courageously joined the army to resist the northern Kaedweni invaders led by King Henselt.
During one terrible battle, the wicked sorceress Sabrina Glevissig rained a fiery hell upon the warriors below.
There, Saskia revealed something extraordinary.
She emerged from the flames completely unharmed.
Not long afterward, the young woman became famous for killing a dragon and received the same title as Victor, Dragonslayer.
To be honest, across all the kingdoms, it would have been difficult to find a folk hero with a more outrageously impressive collection of achievements.
Zoltan had actually told these stories outside Vizima before, but Victor had been preoccupied at the time and paid little attention.
This time, both he and Dandelion listened with great interest.
They were especially attentive when Zoltan described her beautiful face, smooth skin, full breasts, slender waist, and generously rounded hips.
As a veteran teller of bawdy tales, Zoltan provided a wealth of remarkably precise and intricate descriptions that left his listeners eager for more.
Their cheerful gathering continued until a hand came down on Victor's shoulder.
"Vic, I didn't expect to find you in such high spirits, eating golden sturgeon! Why didn't you come find us? We've just made a major breakthrough concerning the Kingslayer!"
The witcher turned his head, saw the speaker, and rolled his eyes.
"Vernon Roche, if you want something to eat, pull over a chair and order whatever you like. I'll pay for all the food and drink.
"But if you intend to discuss serious business, I'm sorry. I'm drunk."
Victor stopped him before he could continue.
The matter of the Kingslayer involved an almost irreconcilable conflict. Depending on how events developed, he and Roche might eventually have no choice but to draw their swords against each other.
Victor was unwilling to let Roche drag the witchers from the School of the Viper away for trial and execution.
Yet he also did not want to exploit Roche's trust, much less deceive him.
Noticing the change in Victor's attitude, the commander of the Blue Stripes frowned.
He studied the witcher's flushed cheeks and spoke in a grave voice.
"Our temporary headquarters is on the second floor of the building opposite Limping Sam's Inn. Come speak with me after you sober up."
Roche turned to leave, but Victor suddenly caught him by the arm.
The witcher's expression became solemn.
Some things truly would be better explained now, before matters deteriorated any further.
At that moment, however, the School of the Wolf medallion suddenly began to vibrate.
The town alarm rang again and again.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A fisherman wearing a red cap burst into the restaurant and shouted, "Everyone, save yourselves! The monster is here!"
He immediately slammed the door and ran off to warn people elsewhere.
An uproar swept through the restaurant.
Some customers immediately paid and left, but the atmosphere did not descend into panic. The loud conversations merely ceased and turned into quiet whispers.
Evidently, the Old Man's attacks did not reach this section of town.
Roche pried Victor's hand from his arm. The faintest smile forced its way onto his expressionless face.
"Go, witcher. Curiosity is written all over your face. Perhaps you can cooperate with Geralt and rid us of that monster.
"Whatever happens, come speak with me when you have time."
...
The alchemist ran from the restaurant.
The Kayran's appearance had indeed destroyed any desire he had to confront the Blue Stripes with the truth.
When he imagined the Void traits that might be attached to those enormous sections of tentacle, he became impatient to see the Old Man for himself.
The restaurant was already close to the harbor, and Victor moved with extraordinary speed.
Before long, he saw the terrifying tentacles rising from beneath the water beside the docks.
At their thickest, they were broader than Letho's waist.
The tentacles slammed against the wooden walkways with thunderous cracks, smashing hardwood beams and causing entire sections to collapse.
They then swept sideways, knocking several unfortunate fishermen into the river.
When Victor had first encountered the Kayran, he had estimated that only a true witcher master, assisted by a highly powerful mage, would possess any chance of killing the monster.
Several years had now passed.
Victor remained far from mastery in swordsmanship and experience, but the power of his bombs and the speed of his reactions unquestionably surpassed those of an ordinary witcher master.
By using his strengths to compensate for his weaknesses, and with a sorceress supporting him, killing the creature would not be some impossible fantasy.
The thought of a sorceress, however, abruptly dimmed Victor's excitement.
Had they not argued, he could have asked her to come and help him now.
Upon seeing a monster this enormous, she would certainly have been delighted as well.
It was such an interesting specimen for research.
They would fight side by side and kill it together.
Afterward, they would make love.
They would continue from night until dawn, and he would prepare breakfast for her afterward.
How wonderful it would have been if they had never argued.
...
The young man shook his head, casting away the images in his mind and abandoning his unrealistic fantasies.
Another sorceress had appeared not far ahead.
She had black hair and black eyes. She wore a black velvet gown adorned with pearls, with a circular tattoo drawn across her prominent chest and a silver fox-fur scarf wrapped around her neck.
The witcher observed her from a distance and confirmed that her features were beautiful. Sorceresses were never ugly.
However, two qualities made her extremely unapproachable.
The first was her naturally domineering, murderous expression.
The second was her hairstyle, which looked as though she had strapped two pairs of boots to the top of her head.
Her magic was equally dangerous.
Red light flashed and struck one of the massive tentacles.
The limb that had appeared unstoppable only moments earlier instantly withdrew beneath the river.
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