Witchers had a fearsome reputation, yet Vienne had still dared to bare her teeth at Lambert.
But with Boslaer standing across from her, she became as docile as a lamb, explaining everything she knew as clearly and thoroughly as possible.
Unfortunately, just like the warehouse manager Lund, she had no idea where Jad Karadin was. The two of them were the least successful members of the five-person murder crew, and the other three had already cut off all contact with them.
Still, she knew more than Lund did. She knew that Selyse ran the Black Lily in Tretogor as a madam while moonlighting as an information broker. She had also once been Karadin's lover, so she ought to know more.
As for Hammond, he was supposedly working as a pirate in Skellige. He had a ship called the Pearl of the Coast and had partnered with Karadin in the slave trade, selling Skelligers to the Continent.
That was the condensed version Victor had pieced together, because years of alcohol and weed had left the elven woman's speech fragmented and disjointed.
Afterward, the group went outside to discuss what to do next. It was worth mentioning that Lambert still chose to spare Vienne, though Victor couldn't see much difference between the life she was living and death.
"Vic, I owe you my thanks. You too, Angoulême, and this... fellow traveler."
Lambert hesitated briefly before settling on the neutral term "fellow traveler." He refused to acknowledge Boslaer as a friend, though fortunately the white-haired elf didn't seem to care.
"I'm going to the Black Lily in Tretogor to find Selyse, and I need you to go to Skellige and find Hammond for me. Can we meet back here next month?" the balding witcher explained.
"We might need to change the plan."
Victor reached into his herbal satchel and rummaged around.
"The name Hammond alone doesn't ring much of a bell, but if we're talking about a pirate in the Skellige Isles who trafficked people, I think I killed him the year before last. If I remember right, I kept a letter from him too..."
Angoulême slammed her right fist into her palm as realization dawned.
"That's right! Those pirates we raided at night on Faroe, their leader was Hammond. He was in the flesh trade!"
Victor pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it.
...
Letter Written on Elegant Stationery
Hammond,
I thought I made myself clear enough the last time we spoke face-to-face. I don't want to stay in contact with you, much less do business with you.
I'm sure the venture you're proposing would make plenty of money, but I'll put it plainly, leave me out of it.
There are plenty of other prospective buyers in Novigrad, goldsmiths, jewelers, merchants dealing in luxury goods, and so on. I don't want any part of this.
Whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck. Consider this letter our final farewell.
Karadin
...
Victor looked up from the signature. The evidence was practically irrefutable.
Lambert stared at him in utter bewilderment.
"So you two wiped out those pirates the year before last?"
Before Victor could answer, Angoulême proudly thumped her chest.
"Of course! What did you expect? The Captain, Vigi, and I slaughtered more than a hundred of those pirates until the place was running with blood!
"What was it the Captain said before the battle again?
"Oh, right! In our line of work, you've got to keep your word. If you say you're going to kill his whole family, then you kill his whole family! Don't leave a single one alive! We didn't quite get every last one in the end, but judging by the numbers, we came pretty close."
When she finished, Victor immediately broke into repeated coughs to cover his embarrassment. Boslaer hid a snicker behind his hand, while Lambert rubbed his nose and muttered under his breath.
"Vic, believe me, Vesemir would not approve."
"If you don't tell him, he'll never know. As for Angoulême, I've got a physical amnesia technique guaranteed to make her forget anything she shouldn't remember," Victor whispered back.
Relying on their superhuman hearing, the two witchers held their whispered conversation right in front of everyone else without either of their companions noticing.
At that moment, the white-haired elf took the elegant sheet of paper and examined it. After lightly rubbing the paper between his fingers to judge its thickness, he smiled with complete confidence.
"This is actually very simple. There's no need to travel all the way to Tretogor looking for some madam.
"The contents of this letter alone make it obvious that Karadin must be in Novigrad. And stationery this fine is normally only used by wealthy people living in Gildorf..."
His perfectly logical deduction abruptly stopped at the most interesting part.
Lambert immediately fixed Boslaer with an intense stare. He could tell the elf was deliberately showing off his cleverness, but he stubbornly refused to ask him to continue.
For personal reasons, the balding witcher's starting disposition toward gangsters was abysmally low. Besides, he knew Victor would ask for him anyway.
Sure enough, noticing Lambert's impatience, Victor gestured for Boslaer to continue. The white-haired elf finally stopped dragging things out.
"Vic, it simply didn't occur to you because you weren't thinking along those lines. Gildorf is Sigi Reuven's territory, and his intelligence network has always been the most agile among the Big Four. Give him the name Karadin, and I'd wager he'll have an answer for you within half a day."
Lambert was a traditional witcher and had no habit of currying favor with powerful men, but even he knew that Sigi Reuven was one of Novigrad's Big Four, someone ordinary people couldn't simply approach.
Yet from Boslaer's tone, it sounded as though Victor was on rather good terms with the man.
Sure enough, the blond witcher smiled faintly.
"You're right. It was a blind spot in my thinking. I never considered using outside help. I'll go see Happen the Eunuch in a bit and have him investigate.
"Lambert, stay at our place tonight. I agree that we'll have an answer by tomorrow at the latest."
...
And so, after receiving Victor's firm assurance, Lambert and Angoulême returned to Fergus's smithy first, while Boslaer held Victor back with a meaningful look.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and dusk was approaching.
"What did you want to tell me in private?"
Victor asked as he walked with the white-haired elf over to a notice board.
After glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention, Boslaer discreetly slipped a potion into Victor's hand.
The instant it touched his palm, Victor knew exactly what it was.
His first reaction, however, was utter bewilderment. He had never imagined that one day their positions would be reversed and someone else would be slipping this particular potion into his hand.
"Megatron! The most powerful pick-me-up potion on the Continent."
Boslaer's expression was filled with sincerity and sympathy.
"As long as little Victor is still there, this will make him stand tall again. I knew witcher mutations could have all sorts of side effects, but I never imagined this was one of them. You've truly sacrificed a great deal."
Images flashed through Victor's mind, Boslaer's strange expression that afternoon, then the moment he'd ordered one of his men to hurry back into the city.
So he'd sent someone back just to fetch this potion...
With a teasing smile, the white-haired elf patted Victor on the arm.
"Unfortunately, I only had one bottle of this miracle drug on hand. If you need any more, you could try asking Count Reuven. Among the upper classes, Megatron is practically hard currency these days, a priceless gift that money can scarcely buy."
"Uh, no... you've misunderstood, Boslaer. I'm not..."
"I understand. I understand completely. My dear fellow, it's all right. You don't need to explain anything to me! You have my sincerest blessings. I hope the next time an opportunity presents itself, you and Lady Priscilla enjoy a wonderful night together."
Boslaer's grin grew positively lecherous, the sort of grin that said, I'm not listening, I'm not listening, and I won't believe a word you say anyway.
It awakened a powerful urge in Victor to punch him.
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