The sorceress opened a portal and departed, while the White Wolf climbed the rocky wall and disappeared into the distance. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful ruined elven baths fell silent once more, with only the splashing of water remaining.
Victor and Iorveth stepped out of the shadows behind the pillars.
Although several days had passed, they had spent only a short time here each day, so dusk had not yet fallen.
In the reflected afterglow of sunset, the elf's expression was visibly displeased, while the witcher looked somewhat embarrassed.
Perhaps safety had factored into his decision, but by remaining silent and not interrupting Geralt and Triss as they consummated their feelings, Iorveth had shown Victor considerable courtesy.
Otherwise, if the elf had drawn his sword and charged out while the two were in the middle of their vigorous battle, the scene would have become utterly absurd, and Victor's position would have been extremely awkward.
Keeping his gratitude to himself, the blond witcher went straight to business. "They mentioned Ciaran just now. What are you planning to do next? And is Zoltan Chivay really a Scoia'tael?"
"That dwarf is your friend?" Seeing Victor nod, Iorveth shook his head. "We have an understanding and have dealt with each other before, but he does not belong to the Scoia'tael. He never has."
"Then what are you going to do about Geralt's visit?"
"If Vernon Roche is not with him and the legendary White Wolf comes to see me alone, I'll give him a chance to speak. Especially since he sounded very confident when he mentioned Ciaran's final words. He clearly believes those words will persuade me."
With an easy stretch of his long arms, Victor climbed out of the baths first. Then, as Iorveth pushed off the wall, Victor reached down and pulled him up.
Sitting on the garden lawn, the two recalled their afternoon spent eavesdropping and burst into laughter.
They laughed for quite some time.
"Hey, Ior. When you meet him, can I watch from somewhere nearby?"
"I understand your concerns, Vic, so I'll speak plainly. I cannot betray Letho, and Geralt will not let the kingslayer go. That conflict cannot be reconciled.
"From what we heard just now, Geralt does not seem intent on becoming my enemy immediately, but his final position will depend on the choice he makes.
"You may observe if you wish, but should something unfortunate happen, are you prepared to face the consequences?"
Victor did not answer immediately.
He looked up at the sky. The last trace of sunlight vanished behind the distant mountains, and scattered stars began to shine.
...
The young witcher returned to Flotsam before the gates closed for the night and headed straight for Limping Sam's Inn.
The tavern was as it always was, filled with bare-chested men trading punches, people shouting curses, gamblers throwing dice, and the inevitable drunks. The noisy atmosphere was brimming with life.
After a simple but filling meal, Victor went down into the cellar and headed for the Ladies' Secret Chamber to bathe.
He truly needed a proper bath and some time to relax. Yesterday's vigorous exertion against the Kayran, followed by the dissection afterward, had left him in need of a thorough cleaning.
After falling into the baths that afternoon, he had considered washing there. However, once the place had become a battlefield of red and white, using it was clearly no longer advisable. Accidentally touching any residue would leave him psychologically scarred, so the witcher had been forced to return to town.
Unexpectedly, when the woman soliciting customers by the stairs saw his mercenary attire and the two swords on his back, she hurried into the brothel while crying out, "This is terrible! That strange fellow from the night before last is back!"
Victor had been praised by Madam Carmen, received perfect marks from the Eager Thighs staff, and had even appeared in the Vizima Morning Post as an exemplary customer. He had never imagined that he would one day be treated like a walking plague.
Besides, what did she mean by the night before last? Victor had returned home early that evening to work on alchemy and enchantments. He had never come here to bathe.
She had clearly mistaken him for someone else. The only question was what that "strange fellow" had done.
Victor walked around the corner and found Margot standing in front of the door. The moment their eyes met, she realized the mistake and quickly turned to shout inside.
"Calm down! Calm down! It isn't that bastard!"
She then stepped forward to welcome the witcher.
Victor's first visit had come through Dandelion's introduction. He had been friendly, generous, and had even paid off the bard's outstanding bill. Naturally, the owner of the Ladies' Secret Chamber remembered such a man.
Victor smiled gently. "My dear Lady Margot, what happened? How could they mistake me for someone else? Did an especially awful customer come here the night before last? Surely he didn't hurt one of the ladies?"
Margot linked her arm through Victor's and led him inside.
"He was fairly awful, but no one suffered any serious harm. They were simply terrible drunks. The worst of them was the witcher. He had two swords on his back, just like you, so the girl misunderstood."
Something stirred in Victor's mind, as though he had suddenly made a connection.
Margot continued, "It is actually quite amusing when you think about it."
As she spoke, her chest rose and fell, sending waves of white flesh gently swaying.
"Five of them came here, or perhaps I should say crawled here. One bald fellow even ordered five girls. Since the witcher with the two swords was the most generous, I saved the prettiest girl for him.
"But what they did was completely different from ordinary soldiers. They climbed onto the girls' backs and ordered them to carry them to the docks."
As Victor imagined the scene, his expression became exceedingly strange.
"A female soldier in the same uniform tried to stop them, but she failed. The witcher was the worst of all. He insisted on riding on the girl's backside to cross the river. We were afraid he might hurt her, so a group of us followed them to the docks.
"We watched him try for several hours. He kept loudly slapping her backside, but naturally, it did not work. Finally, he started shouting that he wanted to join the Blue Stripes and demanded that someone give him a tattoo. I quickly took the girl and slipped away while everyone was distracted."
Victor pictured a witcher with a Blue Stripes tattoo on his neck, then remembered the absurd things the man had done. He suddenly felt that allowing the tattoo to remain there permanently might be rather amusing.
It was only a passing thought, of course. The matter had little to do with him.
Victor spread his hands and adopted his most courteous manner. "A fascinating story. For now, however, I need a large bathing tub, a relaxing massage, hot milk to drink, and a chocolate hazelnut tart. Replace the sheets with fresh woolen ones, and use chamomile for the scented oil."
Margot smiled and nodded.
...
Many things happened that night which were not meant for outsiders to know.
...
Early the next morning, Victor entered Flotsam Forest to gather herbs. His main targets were wolf's aloe and green mold. When mixed with crushed white myrtle petals, fermented, and filtered for their juice, the three ingredients could be used to remove tattoos.
He still had to make the tattoo removal potion. An older witcher had asked him to do so, after all.
However, properly mocking Geralt before handing it over was indispensable. Victor had never imagined that the White Wolf possessed such a humiliating chapter in his past. His memories from his previous life had contained nothing about it.
Absorbed in his search, Victor discovered numerous interesting herbs without realizing how much time had passed. The alchemist remained busy until noon, when an elf came to deliver a message. Guided through the forest, Victor soon met Iorveth again.
The commander stood beside a clearing, wearing a red bandana today.
"You came, Vic. I thought you might stay away. Zoltan did arrange it. This is a formal visit, and the two of them will arrive shortly, Zoltan and Geralt."
The alchemist was dressed in lightweight leather armor. "Both sides are my friends. I decided it would be better to hear everything personally. Remember what you promised. As long as the situation remains under control..."
"I will spare them," Iorveth finished calmly.
Victor smiled gratefully, patted the elf on the arm, and departed.
He concealed himself some distance away and matched the breathing rhythm of the other elves lying in ambush, soon blending into their formation. Before long, his superhuman senses detected the approaching figures and picked out Zoltan's heavy footsteps alongside Geralt's steady ones.
Following the instructions they had received, the witcher and dwarf walked into the middle of the clearing. Countless elves then emerged and surrounded them.
Neither man made any sudden movements. At the very least, the elves had not yet nocked arrows, which could be regarded as a display of goodwill.
Sure enough, Iorveth soon appeared. Dressed in leather armor reinforced with mail, two elven sabers hanging at his waist, and a longbow across his back, he strode forward alone without the slightest fear.
This was not arrogance or carelessness. As long as the commander of the Vrihedd Brigade had a weapon in his hands, even a witcher could not defeat him easily.
Stopping at a suitable distance, the elf clapped his hands twice.
"Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Speak. What do you want to discuss with me? Do not waste time circling the subject, because I have no way of knowing whether your next words will be your last."
"Strangely enough, I was thinking the same thing. I doubt death is any farther from you than it is from me."
The white-haired witcher, his hair tied into a ponytail and his features hard and resolute, faced the powerful, intimidating elven butcher with his piercing gaze and predatory vigilance.
Their presences collided, and for a moment, neither side gained the advantage.
The attitude clearly displeased the elven commander.
"Then get to the point, witcher. Once you finish speaking, I'll kill both of you."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the elves surrounding them raised their bows and nocked their arrows.
Despite being surrounded, the White Wolf showed no fear.
"Let Zoltan leave first, Iorveth. You can do whatever you wish with me."
"You are both birds of a feather. A witcher like you, one who has abandoned the principle of neutrality, will clearly meet an ugly death. As for you, dwarf traitor, you bring shame upon your people."
Zoltan lifted his chin. "Pah! You worthless piece of filth! Do you know why I spit on you? Because you damned Scoia'tael do nothing but slaughter innocent civilians!"
Not far away, Victor's face nearly turned green.
As a leader of the Scoia'tael, Iorveth needed to display a strong attitude in front of his subordinates, even if he intended to hear what Geralt had to say.
Unfortunately, the White Wolf and the dwarf had clearly never received any professional training in negotiation. They traded pointless verbal blows without restraint. Zoltan, in particular, seemed to think he was not dying quickly enough. The moment he opened his mouth, he condemned the entire Scoia'tael in one sweeping attack.
Fortunately, Iorveth understood the situation and brushed the insult aside.
"Innocent civilians? It is amusing to hear you shout those words with such passion. I would gladly explain your mistake before you die, but not now. What you did during the Battle of Brenna is the only reason you were not killed immediately."
Geralt finally displayed some reason. Rather than continuing the argument, he went straight to the point.
"I only want the kingslayer, Letho, the man who framed me. You attacked me beside the river without cause. You owe me for that."
The elf shook his head.
"You were standing beside Vernon Roche. Attacking you was entirely justified. There are many debts between him and me that must be settled. Only when I cut off his head will our account be cleared.
"As for the kingslayer, if you had not been serving Foltest, you would not have been present when the king died. Do you truly believe I would betray a useful ally?"
Geralt's feline eyes stared into Iorveth's hawklike one. He understood that the elven commander would never yield unless he provided something substantial.
"Very well. Letho betrayed you. He intended to work with your comrade Ciaran to assassinate you, allowing Ciaran to take your place."
Victor released a quiet breath upon hearing this.
The conversation had finally reached the heart of the matter, and the revelation itself was explosive. Victor did not believe the White Wolf would lie about something like this, so he immediately realized that Letho would soon lose the protection of the elves and be exposed before him.
As for Geralt and Zoltan, the overwhelming disparity in strength meant a fight was now nearly impossible. Once Geralt finished explaining, Iorveth would probably allow them to leave.
"Ciaran aep Easnillen is dead. He and his warriors were ambushed and killed last week. White Wolf, you should invent a better lie."
"No. He was still alive the day before yesterday. He was lying aboard the prison barge with severe injuries. He rejected Letho's offer, and both he and his unit paid a terrible price for it."
Iorveth had recently overheard enough to support the story, and Victor had vouched that his fellow witcher was an honest man. He therefore found Geralt's explanation somewhat credible and gestured for the elves around them to lower their bows.
"If what you say is true, Letho deserves to die. But a few empty words are not enough to prove it. He did what needed to be done for this world. He proved that even kings cannot escape death."
Geralt shook his head.
"What needed to be done? Then why kill Foltest? I must say, he appeared remarkably enlightened, particularly in his tolerance toward nonhumans."
"You were deceived by appearances. He may have been charming and dignified in public, but in secret, he suppressed Temeria's Elder Races. Do you truly believe he knew nothing beforehand about the riots in Vizima?
"He was as detestable as every other human. His death simply carried greater meaning.
"Foltest and Demavend III, both dead kings were despicable. Their cruelty and tyranny brought suffering upon generations, all so they could consolidate their own power. Fortunately, a true ruler is now rising in the East."
Listening from concealment, Victor frowned.
Iorveth's words were almost an admission that he had ordered Letho to carry out the assassinations. Yet this had absolutely no connection to the person Victor had originally suspected.
Another important phrase had also appeared, "a true ruler."
While the alchemist wrestled with these new implications, the conversation in the clearing continued.
"So you still trust Letho because he is a human willing to do your dirty work, elf?"
Geralt's words reminded Iorveth of Victor's earlier warning. A man determined enough to murder kings and brave universal condemnation could never be guarded against too carefully.
The elf took a deep breath.
"You could be lying."
"If I am lying, was Ciaran lying as well?" the White Wolf answered coldly.
Iorveth turned his head aside.
"For Ciaran's sake, we will uncover the truth. Come with me. We shall see how Letho reacts to your sensational news."
"Where is he now?"
"At the Cáelmewedd ruins. For some reason, he seems to enjoy staying there. According to our agreement, I never bring more than ten people when visiting him. Until I confirm that he is a traitor, I do not intend to break my promise. Dwarf, you may leave."
Geralt looked at Zoltan and nodded, signaling for the dwarf to depart first.
Meanwhile, deep within the forest, Victor nearly leaped to his feet and raced away when he finally learned Letho's location.
He was confident that he could reach the place faster than anyone else.
Unfortunately, he realized that he had absolutely no idea where the Cáelmewedd ruins were.
In other words, he would still have to follow them.
There were benefits to remaining nearby, of course. Victor admitted that eavesdropping had allowed him to obtain a great deal of important information, particularly regarding delicate subjects that his own position made it inconvenient to ask about directly.
Geralt truly deserved his reputation as the world's favored child, the Sword of Destiny. When Victor had exhausted every available option, Geralt could still force the plot forward.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810