The following afternoon, in what had once been Heatherton and was now nothing more than the ruins of Heatherton.
Victor sat beside the well, staring at the magical shard of ice in his palm.
Even after an entire week, a small piece still remained without melting.
This was the White Frost.
According to the records of the School of the Viper, it was an ever-expanding natural phenomenon, and also a map-wide weapon the Wild Hunt used when invading other worlds.
Before launching an attack, they would often open a portal connecting to a world that had already been destroyed by the White Frost, releasing magically charged, lethally cold air that froze their victims solid.
Clearly, the Wild Hunt had used this weapon to seal off Heatherton the previous week, then burned and slaughtered their way through the village before abducting the survivors to serve as slaves in another world.
The shattered walls and burned-out houses bore witness to their atrocities.
A village of several dozen people had simply been erased...
Heatherton might have been nothing more than a tiny village without even a cobbler, but evil was still evil. Its scale did not change what it was.
Etching that feeling into his heart, Victor formed the Igni Sign and melted the shard of ice in his palm before answering Angoulême's call.
...
Witchers still undergoing apprenticeship often lacked experience in properly using their enhanced senses, as well as the ability to interpret clues and reason their way toward the truth.
But neither was much of a problem for Temeria's Golden Eagle.
Her natural talent was so overwhelming it was practically unfair, and the man teaching her how to think logically had been an honors student in philosophy at Oxenfurt Academy.
As a result, she needed very little time to uncover something an ordinary person would never have noticed.
In the house where Hendrik had lived with the widow, lifting the rug revealed a concealed ladder leading underground.
As an aside, Hendrik had died horribly.
The marks on his corpse made it obvious that he had been tortured before his death.
Once they entered the cellar and lit the oil lamp hanging from the wall, Victor folded his arms and leaned against the wall, leaving Angoulême to continue searching on her own.
This was part of her apprenticeship.
There was no need for him to interfere.
Sure enough, it did not take long before his companion let out another delighted cheer and waved her captain over to admire her discovery.
It was a ledger.
The entries inside recorded mundane, ordinary information. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about it.
But why would such an ordinary ledger be hidden inside a secret strongbox in a secret cellar?
Obviously, something was wrong.
And the headings used to categorize the ledger's information were interesting as well.
"Missing and Wanted."
"The target has been sighted in Skellige, and there are eyewitness reports from Novigrad.
"The target's appearance has not changed. Ashen-gray hair, scar on her face.
"Avoids contact with others."
At that point, Angoulême raised her head and looked at Victor.
White eyes met the Blue Rinnegan.
Both knew perfectly well that the "target" could only be Ciri.
She hurriedly continued to the next entry.
"Drunken Swine."
"The man calling himself a baron invited the target to his castle, or rather, the fortress he illegally occupied... Reason unknown.
"Speak with the baron's people at Crow's Perch."
The Bloody Baron!?
Angoulême could confirm that, so far, everything matched Victor's prophecy perfectly.
Skipping over some details and turning several more pages, she read another interesting entry aloud.
"Clashed with a Witch."
"The target reached the swamp and encountered a witch. A conflict followed. Cause unknown.
"Find the witch. Speak with the peasants of Midcopse."
Snap.
Angoulême closed the ledger and grinned brightly.
"Aha! Vic, I found the information you wanted! So it's Midcopse. Shall we leave right now?"
"Not so fast, young apprentice!"
Victor stopped her with an extremely serious expression.
"First, I'm going to ask you several questions. Think carefully before answering. You may consider this your graduation exam!"
"What do you mean, young apprentice? I'm older than you! Stop imitating Vesemir."
Victor covered his mouth and gave two of the fakest coughs imaginable.
"Age doesn't determine expertise. Everyone learns different things at different times. Besides, don't forget that I'm the captain of the Phantom Troupe. I've finished speaking. Do you have any objections?"
"No."
Angoulême rolled her already-white eyes.
"The captain is always right."
Victor pulled over two chairs and gestured for his apprentice to sit as well.
"Using the information we've just gathered, together with the abridged spoilers I gave you beforehand, tell me this. If you were the one making the decisions, what would you do next?"
The oil lamp on the wall illuminated only half of Victor's face, leaving the other half in shadow.
Angoulême scratched her hair and thought for a moment before rubbing her chin.
"Since we already know the answer, I'd go to Midcopse and find the witch first."
"Oh... Even though you know Crow's Perch is the place with the actual clue, while the witch in Midcopse never even met Ciri... why would you choose that?"
"Hehehe! Don't try to mislead me. I've thought this through carefully!
"From Hendrik's notes, we know Ciri was seen in Skellige and Novigrad. That means all the tracks we're chasing right now are really nothing but echoes she left behind!
"Ciri herself is already asleep under some kind of seal on that island whose name and location you can't remember, lying there like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her destined prince... or father.
"So there's only one truly important thing. We need to find that deformed creature who can tell us where the island is!
"We still don't know what it's called or where it is. All we know is that, if the plot hasn't changed, it'll eventually appear at Crow's Perch as something the Bloody Baron won through gambling..."
Victor rested his chin on one hand and watched Angoulême confidently analyze the situation.
A profound sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.
This is the child I raised!
Just look how wonderfully she's grown. Beautiful white eyes, smart, articulate...
"...Which means there's no reason for us to get too deeply involved in Crow's Perch's family problems. If our interference causes that deformed creature to never reach Crow's Perch at the proper time, finding it afterward among countless people would become incredibly difficult... That's my answer."
After hearing his apprentice's response, Victor applauded encouragingly.
"Congratulations! You've passed your defense. It's the easiest solution, but most of the time, the simplest solution really is the best one.
"There is one small flaw, though. You're entrusting the future to fate instead of grabbing fate by the throat."
"Tch! Then what do you want to do, Vic?"
"I'm going to Midcopse.
"And you're going to Crow's Perch."
"Huh!?"
Angoulême froze.
"We're splitting up?"
Victor smiled, gestured for her to follow, and stood up to climb the ladder back to the surface. On the way, he casually extinguished the oil lamp with Aard.
"Yes. We're splitting up.
"I'll go to Midcopse alone and find the witch. You should know that Keira and I haven't seen each other in a very long time. Once we reunite, there's an extremely high chance things will become passionately heated.
"And while we're having a very thorough exchange of opinions, I really don't want to discover that you're lurking somewhere nearby."
The girl's face twisted.
"Ugh... That's an extremely convincing reason. I wasn't particularly interested in watching the two of you perform anyway. But what exactly am I supposed to do at Crow's Perch?"
Leaving Hendrik's house behind, the Phantom Troupe walked through the desolate ruins of Heatherton toward the place where they had tied their horses.
"Geralt should still be at Crow's Perch. Go meet up with him. Take what you already know and watch how he investigates, how he reacts, and how a witcher deals with situations when he doesn't already know the answer.
"Then try making your own choices.
"You can spoil everything for him or tell him nothing. You can involve yourself actively or stand aside and watch. Remember, choices aren't inherently right or wrong.
"And this is the final lesson your mentor, Victor Corion, has for you.
"When the trial comes, you must choose!"
Angoulême abruptly stopped walking, her voice becoming shrill.
"Why are you saying it like that!? Are you planning to leave me for a long time?"
"No, I'm fucking not! I finally get one chance to sound cool and you can't even let me finish properly!?"
Victor glared at Angoulême with his Blue Rinnegan until she lowered her head.
Only then did he continue irritably.
"Rough estimate, I'll meet you at Crow's Perch in about fifteen days. We'll decide what to do next when the time comes.
"Take these two amulets. One is for you, the other is for Geralt. Keep them on you at all times. They'll effectively suppress curses from attaching themselves to you or erupting once they do.
"Be careful. The enemies you're dealing with are extremely evil."
Angoulême gave a silly chuckle as she accepted the amulets and tucked them away.
"And you'll be fine going to Midcopse alone?"
"Don't fucking jinx me! I'm absurdly strong. I can deal with higher vampires, and I already know what happens in the future. I can't even imagine how I could possibly screw things up in a little place like Velen!"
That did make sense.
Reassured, Angoulême gave Victor a light farewell hug, then leaned close to his ear.
"Good luck, Vic. With a woman like Keira, you've got to be forceful. Make sure she's smiling so wide she can't close her mouth, and having so much fun she can't close her legs either!"
In response to his companion's vulgar encouragement, the captain rolled his eyes.
Victor raised a hand, signaling for the sparrowhawk Catherine to descend from the sky.
Angoulême swung herself onto Amber, then suddenly seemed to remember something and turned back toward Victor.
"Captain, does this mean I've officially graduated now? And if I get to Crow's Perch and run into something I absolutely hate, something I genuinely can't tolerate, what am I supposed to do?"
Victor narrowed his eyes.
"Because his daughter ran away from home, the Bloody Baron has developed a tendency to extend his overflowing paternal affection toward girls in their twenties. I doubt you'll have much trouble at Crow's Perch.
"But if, and I mean if, something unpleasant happens and you truly can't tolerate it, and there's absolutely no other choice..."
He paused.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
In plain language, what Victor meant was simple.
Cut down whoever you feel needs cutting down.
Your big brother will deal with the consequences.
Having effectively received carte blanche in the form of the Assassin's Creed, Angoulême burst into laughter, waved goodbye, and squeezed Amber's flanks.
The horse shot forward like an arrow released from a bow.
...
"The Phantom Troupe are vigilantes, and nothing more than vigilantes... We punish the wicked because doing so satisfies ourselves. Never mistake that for representing justice. We stand no closer to justice than the criminals we kill."
Victor Corion, First Captain
...
The previous autumn, before the Loc Muinne summit, the sorceress Keira Metz had been a political ally of Temeria's interrex, John Natalis.
When Natalis left to attend the summit, she was responsible for maintaining stability within the kingdom.
But no one could have anticipated how rapidly circumstances would change.
By the end of the summit, Keira, as a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses, had been branded an accomplice to the kingslayers. Many of the measures she had taken to stabilize the country were reinterpreted as malicious schemes to seize political power.
Fortunately, she received warning before she could be arrested.
The petite blonde sorceress escaped Vizima in time and disappeared without a trace.
In reality, however, Keira Metz had never left Temeria.
She was hiding near the village of Midcopse, making a living by selling potions to treat cowpox and mixing ointments for hemorrhoids.
When the witcher arrived at Midcopse, he found a small village of slightly more than a hundred people, one that, coincidentally, actually had a cobbler.
His method of gathering information was simple and direct.
Money first.
Axii second.
It did not take long before the locals told him what he needed to know.
Their swamp witch lived on a nearby hillside.
Victor hurried onward, following the path beside the village pond. After reaching the large egg-shaped boulder, he turned left into the woods.
But when the cottage finally came into view through the trees, he dismounted and began leading his horse forward at a slow walk.
Was this what people meant by becoming nervous when returning somewhere familiar?
A few days earlier, when he parted with Angoulême, Victor had spoken as though reuniting with Keira and ending up tangled together four seconds later would be the easiest thing in the world.
In reality, he had absolutely no idea how Keira would react when she saw him.
A sorceress's mood could be as unpredictable as the weather.
Victor could only hope she wouldn't explode in fury.
And if she did get angry, hopefully she wouldn't start swinging.
Especially not while wearing those damned brass knuckles.
Thinking back to the argument they'd had before separating last year, the unpleasant memory remained vivid.
And now Temeria really had fallen...
Keira loved luxury, comfort, and maintaining appearances.
Being trapped in this miserable little village, one could only imagine how much rage had accumulated inside that petite body.
So how exactly was he supposed to calm her down?
By now, she had probably accepted the reality of Temeria's destruction and had begun working on that terrible plan of hers to make a private deal with Radovid V...
...
No matter how slowly Victor walked while worrying about it, the cottage remained close by.
Soon enough, he reached the door.
Victor decided he would simply improvise.
After tying his horse to a wooden post, he stepped forward and gently knocked.
No response.
He closed his eyes and listened.
There was no sound inside either.
After thinking for a moment, he pushed open the door and entered.
The wooden cottage was a typical rural dwelling.
The kindest description would have been "rustic and authentic."
Even the scents of the various herbs hanging around the room could not entirely conceal the faint unpleasant smell of the deteriorating building.
Though, admittedly, that might simply have been the fault of his enhanced senses.
No one seemed to be home.
That made it a perfect opportunity to examine the surroundings.
Everything he could see looked like the furnishings of an ordinary peasant household.
There was no luxurious carpet underfoot, only dry straw.
If he had not entered the inner room and spotted a low-cut camisole drying on a dark wooden rack, something no ordinary peasant woman would be likely to wear, it would have been almost impossible to imagine that a sorceress lived here.
Turning around, he found the bookshelf packed with books.
Victor was pleased to see that even while fleeing for her life, Keira had refused to abandon her collection.
A pentagram had been drawn in chalk on one corner of the floor.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could even faintly see fleas moving across the old mattress.
Clearly, Keira's rustic lifestyle was anything but pleasant.
After quietly examining enough of the room to understand the situation, Victor released his heightened Magic Sense.
He quickly noticed the one thing in the room that did not belong.
A cast-metal skull sitting on the bookshelf.
The dense magical power radiating from it told the witcher that this was either some kind of powerful magical artifact, or else...
He reached out and touched it lightly.
Magic flowed through the object.
With a thunderous roar, a golden portal immediately opened beside him.
A familiar scene flashed through Victor's mind.
Knowing perfectly well that passing through this portal would bring him to Keira, Victor stepped inside without hesitation.
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