Leo left Novigrad the very next day.
He departed by ship, bound for the Skellige Isles to travel and broaden his horizons.
He wore a brand-new suit of leather armor, while his well-maintained silver and steel swords gleamed brightly, complementing his equally shiny bald head in a rather amusing way.
With Dettlaff's warning still fresh in his mind, Leo could not return to Toussaint for the time being, so he decided to take advantage of the opportunity and see more of the world.
Once Victor confirmed that he was heading for Skellige, he wrote several letters and entrusted them to Leo, asking him to deliver them to a few friends in the islands.
Naturally, there were letters for the three members of the an Craite family, Crach, Hjalmar, and Cerys. There was also Blueboy Lugos of Clan Drummond, who had undergone the dream trial alongside them, Svanrige an Tuirseach of Clan Tuirseach, the archdruid Ermion, and Scoundrel Vigi on Undvik.
Angoulême also asked him to carry three letters, one each for Scoundrel Vigi, Cerys an Craite, and Svani an Hindar, a warrior-priestess of Freya.
Between Victor and Angoulême, the Phantom Troupe had friends on four of Skellige's six major islands, Ard Skellig, An Skellig, Hindarsfjall, and Undvik. As for Faroe and Spikeroog, they had also left behind a good reputation among the locals.
Once Leo arrived, all he theoretically had to do was give the local jarl the name "the Phantom Troupe" and he would receive a warm welcome. At the very least, no one should try to drive him away or murder him.
Still reeling from the sheer extent of his seniors' connections, Leo departed Novigrad.
...
Another day later, the Phantom Troupe was also packed and ready to depart.
Their plan was to sail east along the Pontar River, disembark at Vergen, and switch to horses. From there, they would travel south through Vengerberg before continuing toward Toussaint.
It did not matter even if their route passed through active war zones. The travel permit issued by Duchess Anna Henrietta of Toussaint was recognized by both the Aedirnian and Nilfgaardian armies.
For the sake of this long journey, Yoana and Hattori had worked through the night to finish forging the Berserker Armor.
It was only when Yoana watched Victor put the entire suit of armor into his herbal satchel with her own eyes that she finally understood how he had carried away the Dragon Slayer back then.
Upon learning that Victor was about to leave the Pearl of the North for a while, Priscilla Callonetta, the star performer of the Kingfisher Inn, made a special trip to the harbor to see him off, looking distinctly reluctant to part with him.
Over the past half month, the witcher had gone to watch her perform every single night, and the two had become quite good friends.
They said their farewells beside Pier Five.
Priscilla wore a brown long skirt, a rose-colored blouse, and a blue vest. On her head was the painter's cap currently fashionable among artists, an oval silver ornament pinned to its brim. The sea breeze stirred the ends of her golden hair.
The bard took the witcher's hand.
"Vic, Guillaume and Horace told me this journey to Toussaint might be dangerous. Apparently, even a witcher admitted that he couldn't handle what's waiting there. Are you truly confident you can deal with it?"
Victor placed his other hand over Priscilla's and gently patted it a few times.
"Don't worry. Whoever we're dealing with can be reasoned with. And judging by the fact that he drove Leo away instead of killing him, if things go well, we might not even have to fight."
The poet's hand was smooth and delicate, though her fingertips were dotted with calluses from years of playing strings. They felt surprisingly pleasant beneath his fingers.
"I'm more worried about you. Over the next year, I think Novigrad is going to become the heart of the storm. The North and South will both be forced to fight for this city. A great deal of cruelty and madness is going to happen here..."
"You don't have to try convincing me again. Witnessing such events and recording them is a bard's duty. If I'd been in Vergen back then, I certainly wouldn't have been like Dandelion and let a few words from you scare me away from Loc Muinne!
"Just think about what happened there. A living dragon and a dragon slayer! I deeply regret not being there in person to compose an immortal epic about it!"
With her right hand resting on her slender waist, Priscilla spoke with effortless confidence.
Victor personally did not think his fierce battle with Saskia had been quite worthy of immortality, but since Priscilla was so insistent, he merely rubbed his nose and stopped trying to persuade her.
In any case, after two weeks of investigation, he could basically conclude that the second-generation Batman had been deeply influenced by what the first one had done back in Vizima. The rule about protecting women seemed to have been carved directly into her DNA, with her fists reserved exclusively for men.
And with the clouds of war currently hanging over the city, the common folk were delighted to hear about a few thugs getting beaten senseless in the middle of the night. The "Big Four" did not care either, and Victor saw even less reason for a witcher to interfere.
At that moment, Priscilla handed him a slip of paper.
Victor accepted it in confusion and unfolded it.
"Oh, beautiful Priscilla!
Behind your golden locks are eyes like doves.
Your lips are like threads of scarlet.
[crossed out] Your * is like a plump and juicy grapefruit.
[crossed out] Your * are like twin sweet watermelons.
[illegible writing]
Your hands are like a pair of pale moons.
When, oh when, will your eyes finally see me?"
Holding the paper between two fingers, the Dragonborn Bard raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of garbage is this?"
Priscilla playfully raised an eyebrow of her own.
"Poetry. At least, that's what the man who wrote it seems to think. It was written for me by Sir Guillaume, the knight currently aboard your ship. This was his chosen method of expressing his burning passion while repeatedly inviting me to Toussaint."
"...Ah. Please don't take it personally. I'm sure he wasn't trying to insult you. He's an idiot in love, a complete romantic fool. His intelligence suffers a significant decline whenever romance is involved."
"I can forgive him. But as a sincere apology, I want you to improve this poem and give the finished version to me."
Victor sounded baffled.
"You want me to improve this poem for you?"
"Exactly. The next time you return to Novigrad, recite it to me."
Priscilla's voice was light and cheerful, her expression completely composed.
"Oh, dear lady, now you're simply making things difficult for me. Following his format, I doubt there's any way to make it elegant. No matter what I write, it's going to sound like shameless harassment."
"Don't worry. When some people write poetry, even their finest verses feel like harassment. When others write poetry, even their worst verses feel like flirting.
"Of course, if you just scribble down whatever comes to mind, I'll still send it back and demand that you rewrite it."
Victor blinked and said nothing more.
The bard's meaning could hardly have been clearer.
Victor placed a hand over his chest in farewell. Priscilla lifted the hem of her skirt in a graceful curtsy.
And with that, they parted at the harbor.
...
Not long after the ship set sail, Horace and Guillaume came over together to speak with the witcher.
"I owe you an apology, Vic. If I'd known you and Lady Priscilla were so close, I promise you, I never would have written her that poem," Guillaume said sincerely.
Victor smiled.
"It's fine. I only just found out myself. But don't I remember you being completely smitten with Vivienne? Vivienne de Tabris."
Unexpectedly, the mere mention of that name caused the knight, whose eyes would once have lit up immediately, to wilt like a dying flower. He hung his head and could not bring himself to speak.
Horace, standing beside him, shook his head with a bitter smile and explained the situation to Victor.
"Not long ago, he confessed his feelings to Lady Vivienne. But she told him that her heart already belonged to someone else, a peerless hero.
"She said that one day, he would appear before everyone in magnificent shining armor, riding a splendid steed, and come to take her away."
Victor suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit.
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