"Splash, splash, splash!"
Amid the billowing steam, ladle after ladle of hot water washed away the white foam, revealing the magnificent winged-dragon tattoo covering the young man's back.
The woman scrubbing Victor's back finished her work, wrapped a white bath towel around him, bowed, and left the bathhouse.
This was the same place where the Dragonborn Bard had once been invited to perform poetry while Novigrad's Big Four bathed together. Today, however, there were only two men occupying the same spot.
Victor tested the water temperature with his foot, then comfortably lowered himself into the enormous pool.
The man sitting across from the witcher was, naturally, the king of the bathhouse, Sigi Reuven.
But that was merely his public identity.
His real name was Sigismund Dijkstra, former head of Redanian Intelligence and a powerful statesman who had worked alongside Philippa Eilhart to keep Radovid under control for years.
It was worth mentioning that he and the sorceress had once shared an intimate relationship.
A very, very intimate relationship.
That relationship only came to an end when Philippa decided to get rid of him and seize complete control for herself, with Dijkstra ultimately fleeing for his life.
The tall, heavily built middle-aged man had a white towel covering his face, while his pale skin made him resemble a freshly scrubbed pig.
Victor could tell, however, that beneath that layer of fat was muscle as hard as stone.
For an easy comparison, he was built somewhat like Kingpin from the Marvel universe.
Sinking into the scalding water drew a comfortable sigh from both men.
Dijkstra's voice sounded slightly muffled through the towel.
"Sorry for asking you to meet this late, but this is about the only time of day when I'm relatively free.
"This damned ankle hurts unbearably if I go even one day without soaking it in hot water... I hope you like hot baths too. Need me to adjust the temperature?"
"No, this is just right. I prefer it hotter too. It's good for circulation. What happened to your ankle? Old injury?"
Pulling the towel off his face, the scrubbed pig spoke in a warm, hearty voice.
"Someone broke it during a certain incident years ago, but let's not talk about unpleasant things today. It's been a long time! Dovahkiin, Sir Corion, which would you prefer?"
"Just call me Victor, Count Reuven."
"Oh, Victor, I appreciate your straightforwardness, so I've decided to be somewhat straightforward with you as well. You see, Sigi Reuven is merely an alias. My real name is Sigismund Dijkstra. You can call me Sigi or Dijkstra."
And just like that, the spymaster stopped pretending and openly revealed his identity.
Victor swept his damp hair straight back, revealing his smooth forehead.
"Quite the important man. But why tell me?"
"Heh, as expected, you're not surprised. The truth is quite simple. The world has changed over the past two years, and people have changed with it. Based on the intelligence available to me, I believe we should be friends!"
"Ahem, no offense intended, but I believe friends are people who don't concern themselves with status or rank, people you can entrust your secrets to without worrying that they'll betray you."
"Hahahahaha!"
Dijkstra laughed cheerfully.
"Victor, your standards are far too high. In this dangerous age, I think two people who can respect each other and have no intention of murdering one another already qualify as pretty good friends.
"Of course, occasionally helping each other would make the friendship even better."
Relaxing his body, Victor sank into the hot water until only his neck remained above the surface.
"With the status enjoyed by one of the Big Four, you can do practically anything in Novigrad. I don't think there's much I could help you with."
"You're far too modest. Singer of magnificent ballads, accomplished witcher, giant slayer of Skellige, master knight of Toussaint, and of course... the dragon slayer of Loc Muinne."
"I personally prefer clean, straightforward transactions, but I'm still honored by your courtesy. You helped me in the past, so if there's anything you need from me now, just say it."
"No need to rush. People will always need one another's help eventually. But a friendship as valuable as yours has appreciated by far more than a hundredfold in just two short years. So allow me to keep investing. I believe its value will rise even further!
"Until the day I actually need to make use of it, I'd rather keep our friendship pure. So today, I truly did invite you here merely to share a drink and properly introduce myself. After all, interacting with someone under a false name is rather impolite.
"And if there are any conflicts between our respective positions, it's better to put them on the table early."
After saying this, he clapped his hands twice.
Happen the Eunuch, who had been waiting outside the door, entered and placed an ice bucket beside each man. Inside rested chilled bottles of Lafite, one of Corion Estate's classics.
"Originally, I had my doubts about whether all those rumors were true. After all, many stories about your martial exploits sound downright absurd at first.
"Defeating giants, slaying dragons and the like, in this age of contempt, such tales sound little different from fantasies..."
"But last night, when you were performing, I was listening from the loft."
Dijkstra lifted his wine bottle in salute.
"That was the finest performance I've heard in nearly ten years. It cannot even be compared to what I heard here two years ago. I have no doubt that only someone who has carved his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood could sing with such grandeur."
Naturally, someone who had spent his life as a royal spymaster never did anything for a single simple reason.
But the man certainly knew how to talk, and he displayed more than enough respect and frankness.
He was an asshole, but not an unpleasant asshole.
He was a bastard, but an honorable, honest bastard.
In such a twisted age, qualities like those were surprisingly rare.
Victor didn't dislike his reasoning.
Success had a way of drawing people in, and capable men being used by others was only natural.
When Dijkstra had first invested in him, perhaps Victor had merely been an idle piece placed on the board.
But with his abundant self-confidence, the young man was willing to admit that Dijkstra had proven himself an investor with exceptional foresight.
So Victor raised his bottle in return.
"A pleasure to properly meet you, Mr. Sigismund Dijkstra. I hope we continue getting along."
Their bottles lightly clinked together before both men drank.
And so, the two intelligent men soaked in the bath without touching upon any sensitive subjects. They chatted about poetic rhymes and shared stories from their travels, passing the night amid easy laughter.
...
The following afternoon, Victor made time to visit Putrid Grove and pay a call on the King of Beggars, Francis Bedlam.
Every time Victor met this particular underworld boss, he was reminded of someone else, the elven sorceress and Duchess of Dol Blathanna, Francesca Findabair.
The reason was simple.
Their names were remarkably similar once you started rearranging the sounds.
The King of Beggars treated the witcher to a meal. The food was plentiful and appropriate for the occasion, but his attitude alone made it clear that his intelligence network was inferior to the bathhouse king's, so the level of hospitality he extended to Victor was not quite as extravagant.
As for the Zerrikanian, Babu, the King of Beggars happened to have sent him to Oxenfurt on business. He would not be returning for some time, which spared Victor from having to honor their agreement to duel.
Not that Victor could think of any reason he would lose if they fought now.
No matter how diligently that saber-obsessed madman trained, he could hardly compete with a witcher using cheat codes.
The techniques Victor had inherited from Serrit and Auckes had gradually merged into his own style over these past days, and his swordsmanship was slowly undergoing a qualitative transformation.
After visiting Francis, Victor's social obligations following his return finally came to a temporary end.
As for the other two members of the Big Four, the Butcher Cleaver was a nonhuman, so he had always maintained a certain distance from a witcher born human.
And Victor's meeting with Whoreson Junior back then certainly could not be described as pleasant.
The young man had gotten him chewed out mercilessly by Alonso.
Victor had originally been wondering how he should respond if Cyprian came looking for trouble, yet in the end, everything remained perfectly peaceful.
Perhaps the ongoing invasion by the Black Ones had left the man too busy to concern himself with Victor.
Or perhaps Cyprian simply hadn't taken their old grudge seriously?
Whatever the reason, the Phantom Troupe spent the next several days enjoying a peaceful life in the city.
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