Opening his bag, Horace spread several sheets of paper across the table.
"At the moment, I'm afraid no one has actually gotten a clear look at him. Plenty of people claim they've seen the Beast, and we've drawn sketches according to their descriptions, but every single one is completely different. None of them even resemble each other. Personally, I think all these witnesses are lying."
Victor picked up the bizarre drawings one after another and flipped through them. The grotesquely distorted creatures depicted on the pages looked downright Lovecraftian. Not a single one resembled Dettlaff's imposing, deathly pale face. Some of them didn't even have faces.
Victor looked up with an ambiguous smile.
"How many victims so far?"
Guillaume answered gravely.
"Two. As soon as Her Grace received word of the second death, she immediately dispatched several groups to search for you. She also promised land and treasure to whichever witcher answered her summons."
"Two? Only two victims?"
Victor wasn't being callous. It was simply that in an age when people died everywhere every day, two deaths alone were hardly remarkable.
"They weren't ordinary people. Both victims were nobles. And the autumn harvest is almost upon us. As you know perfectly well, the wine festival absolutely cannot be disrupted.
"On top of that, since the war in the North began, neutral Toussaint has become an excellent place to relax. Many foreign visitors have chosen to vacation there, including relatives of the Emperor himself."
Victor nodded.
"I understand. If a foreign noble dies there, even the mildest outcome would be a scandal. At worst, it could become a diplomatic disaster. Has anyone tried hunting the Beast? Those knight-errants the duchy is so proud of, perhaps?"
Guillaume rubbed the faint stubble on his recently shaved chin.
"Hah, plenty of knights have tried. Traps, ambushes, everything imaginable, but none of it worked. That Beast is intelligent and leaves absolutely no clues behind. His attacks come without warning, like a ghost.
"To be frank, I have a bad feeling about this, Victor. So far, no one has managed to track the Beast, and there are even rumors that he can use some kind of dark magic.
"We need an experienced master tracker with extensive knowledge of monsters. Put simply, what we need is you."
"And Mr. Leo made it perfectly clear that he has only recently become a witcher and lacks the experience necessary to handle the matter."
Noticing Victor's gaze drifting toward the bald witcher, Horace voluntarily offered an explanation on his behalf.
Victor looked away.
"The Beast can use dark magic? How did that rumor start?" he asked Guillaume.
"The first victim suddenly disappeared from a banquet. None of the other guests even noticed when he vanished. All they saw was an open window. Then they heard terrified screams coming from the street below after someone discovered the body."
The knight recounted the incident calmly.
Horace continued.
"The second case was very similar. A knight was resting inside a locked room. The house was filled with servants, and guards were stationed all around the estate.
"Yet the Beast still carried him away without making a sound, took him all the way to the city square, and killed him there. Not a single person saw or heard anything during the entire process.
"Knights of Toussaint do not fear creatures that can be fought with sword and shield, but against this Beast, we're completely helpless. He leaves no trail, kills effortlessly, and there seems to be no pattern or logic behind his murders."
"Did I know either of the victims?"
Horace smiled bitterly.
"Count Crespi, a devoted supporter of Lafite. He was the Beast of Beauclair's first victim. When his corpse was discovered, he had been posed on his hands and knees and propped against the pillory."
"Ah... an intentionally humiliating death. The owner of Belgaard Vineyard..."
Victor still remembered the man. Crespi had once tried to swallow up the Corion Estate.
Victor also had good reason to suspect that Crespi routinely sabotaged the vineyards of his competitors.
Planting archespore sprouts, for example.
He would secretly stir up conflicts between others, then seize vineyards with potential once they had weakened each other. And his attempt to smother "Lafite" with excessive praise had ultimately backfired and cemented Lafite's reputation instead.
Victor thought quietly for a moment, then clapped his hands together.
"All right, that's enough for now. I'll have to investigate the specifics in person. I need two days to wrap up a few loose ends here in Novigrad.
"I suggest you two stay at the Kingfisher Inn. The security and accommodations are both excellent, and in the evenings you'll be close enough to hear Miss Priscilla Callonetta perform. I'm sure it'll make the journey worthwhile."
...
After politely seeing Guillaume and Horace out, Victor closed the door securely, dragged a chair over in front of Leo, and sat face-to-face with the young bald witcher.
"Pfft!"
The blond witcher couldn't suppress his laughter.
He wanted to reach out and rub Leo's shiny head, but that would be bullying him too much. Leo would definitely get angry.
"All right, first let's talk about your hairstyle. My dear Egghead, how did that perfectly good crew cut turn into a completely bald head? Didn't you swear you'd keep the crew cut for the rest of your life? Does this make you look more intimidating, or does Sasha prefer you like this?"
"Egghead" was the Phantom Troupe's nickname for Leo, inspired by the shape of his head.
"Yeah, Egghead, your old crew cut looked great! If you're having trouble with hair loss, there's no need to give up on yourself. If you treat it early, there might still be hope. Vic can make all kinds of amazing potions."
Angoulême came over as well, full of apparent concern, and her hand naturally landed on his head with a smack before she started rubbing the smooth scalp.
Leo shook his head from side to side, throwing off the girl's troublesome hand.
"Don't even mention it... When we were entering the city, I saw a young barber by the roadside who claimed to be a professional. It had been a while since I'd had my hair trimmed, so I decided to give her a chance. She didn't hear me clearly when I asked for a crew cut and shaved the whole thing bald instead."
Once they understood what had happened,
"Pfffft, hahahahaha!"
the other two members of the Phantom Troupe immediately subjected their companion to merciless ridicule.
Angoulême collapsed laughing onto the lounge chair.
"Quick, quick, tell me where that barber works and what her sign says! I've got to admit, she's incredibly talented at shaving heads. Look at that thing, it's practically sparkling!"
"When you realized she'd cut it wrong, did you hit her?"
Victor had something serious on his mind, so once he'd finished laughing, his expression returned to normal.
Leo was preoccupied with something as well. Once his embarrassment faded, he likewise became calm again.
"No! A young girl made an honest mistake. There was no need to make a big deal out of it. It'll grow into short stubble in a few days, and it'll be back to normal in two weeks."
"True enough. In that case, let's talk about something serious."
Victor leaned back slightly.
"About the Beast of Toussaint, what are you hiding, Egghead? I'm sure you've got plenty you want to tell me. And I'd like to hear your explanation."
Angoulême, who still had no idea what was going on, froze.
She couldn't understand how such a relaxed, cheerful conversation had suddenly veered a million miles in another direction.
Leo's calm facade collapsed instantly. He sighed in surprise.
"Are my acting skills really that terrible? I thought I was hiding it pretty well!"
"It has nothing to do with how well you hid it. I'm a prophet, remember?"
Victor folded his arms across his chest.
"To hell with your prophet nonsense!"
Cursing under his breath, Leo unfastened his leather armor and pulled open his shirt, exposing his hairy chest.
Three long claw marks stretched across it.
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