"What the hell, Raymond? Did I say I met Alyssa after she died?"
"......"
"Karl, your mother was born in Carriras, and she had a childhood playmate named Keira Metz."
"I heard Keira was taken to some magical academy, and Alyssa exchanged letters with her from time to time until she passed away."
"Your mother still has a letter she wanted you to deliver to her."
Hearing the familiar name, Karl was initially pleased, then his expression tightened.
Keira... He didn't know what kind of person she was like.
A sorceress who loved vanity, was greedy for power, played with intrigues, and enjoyed using others.
Seeking her out to trade a magical item? He really couldn't guarantee the outcome.
A sorcerer could easily make him hand over the magical item obediently without paying any price.
So his idea was that even if he sought out a sorcerer to trade, he needed to find one with a good character; otherwise, there was a high chance he'd get nothing in return.
......
A month and a half later, two figures rode one after another along a muddy road.
Behind them followed a carriage carrying plate armor and other supplies.
Karl rode the horse in front, while Dalton deliberately hung back.
Dalton did this to emphasize the difference in status between them, so that strangers could immediately understand who was the master and who was the subordinate.
Originally, given Karl's current status, he should have had at least a few servants attending him.
But unfortunately, customizing the plate armor and warhorse cost a lot of money, and funds were tight, so Raymond could only let them set off on their own.
Karl's knighthood had been officially conferred half a month ago.
At that time, everyone holding a position in Baron's Meadow had attended the conferment ceremony.
Initially, Raymond had been worried about what reason to find for conferring knighthood.
But at the table, Karl mentioned killing Drowners, which gave him a valid reason to bestow the honor.
However, to make Karl's deeds more convincing, he had returned to the village and wiped out a Drowner nest.
By the way, he had killed the remaining three Drowners and appeared before the villagers with their heads.
Dalton held the reins in his hand, opening a map to confirm the road.
"Lord Karl, according to the map, the fork ahead leads to Carriras. Do you want to take that road?"
"I heard from Mr. Jack that you have some business with an old friend in Carriras."
"No need, Dalton. Let's head straight to Vizima, the capital of Temeria."
"Yes, Lord Karl."
At this time, Karl was in a somewhat depressed mood—he had sent the letter to Keira and didn't want to interact with her.
But it was his mother's last wish, and if he didn't fulfill it, he would feel very guilty.
"Dalton, have there been any rumors about the royal family in Vizima?"
He thought he might chat, perhaps to dispel his gloom, so he took the opportunity to ask Dalton about Vizima.
"Hmm... Rumors? They say the king has been searching for traces of Witchers, which has been troubling him greatly."
"He once ordered people to forbid killing the Striga of old Vizima, and violators would be severely punished."
Searching for Witchers? A Striga?
Karl, catching the keywords, suddenly brightened up and lifted the corners of his mouth.
He hadn't expected that Princess Adda's curse hadn't been lifted, meaning the timeline was still in the early stages.
If he won the championship in the tournament, the king would indeed reward him.
But the identity of a bastard child was always too sensitive, and Foltest would most likely not agree to legitimize him.
If he could lift Princess Adda's curse and be legitimized as a bastard, he was 90% sure Foltest would agree.
However, there was one more thing he needed to think through carefully.
That was the situation with the Striga, which was more complicated.
Because Adda was cursed, he not only couldn't kill her but also had to be careful everywhere not to be killed or injure the princess.
Geralt had drunk alchemical potions, and in his prime, he had nearly stumbled when facing such a situation.
He had never fought a Witcher and wasn't sure how far he was from a Witcher like Geralt, especially after the other party had drunk alchemical potions.
But one thing he was absolutely sure of—in terms of pure physical strength, even if a bear sent a Witcher who had drunk potions, its strength was far inferior.
The mutations of the Wolf school were balanced in all aspects, with nothing outstanding.
......
It took them another three days to reach the outskirts of Vizima.
Passing through a suburban village, Karl noticed a strange building in the heart of the village.
It was made of stained glass, with a high, pointed roof, and a lit brazier was placed on a wooden frame by the door.
A sign of flame hung over the building, and armed church members occasionally patrolled the area.
"Lord Karl, that building is a church belonging to the Church of the Eternal Fire."
"They have the right to be armed and can teach the villagers."
Dalton saw Karl observing the building and opened his mouth to explain to him.
Karl nodded indifferently, then looked away and stopped paying attention to the church.
He didn't have a good impression of the Church of the Eternal Fire; the entire church could be described as having brainwashed believers.
Believers couldn't afford to eat their own food, had to pay tribute to the church, and were subject to physical punishment for violating the teachings.
Moreover, the Eternal Fire Church demanded, but was not limited to, allowing believers to dedicate themselves, money, and physical atonement, and so on, which was almost like directly selling indulgences.
And who reaped the benefits from them? He could tell just by thinking—it was the top of the church and a group of nobles.
As they rode along the road, the surrounding villagers saw the outfits they were wearing and the carriage following them, especially after noticing the carriage with a coat of arms on its side.
The villagers' expressions were as if they had seen the plague, and they moved away from the truth, afraid to avoid it.
The main reason was that the noble lord was too noble, and they couldn't afford to offend him.
If they upset the other party, even if they were beaten for no reason, no one would speak for them, and the other party wouldn't be punished for it.
The group approached the city gates, and many were lined up on the bridge.
Among them were merchants, ordinary vegetable vendors, and others who spoke quietly.
It could be seen that although this wasn't the free city of Novigrad, many people also came here to beg for a living.
Karl raised an eyebrow, intending to guide his horse to the end of the line and queue up like everyone else.
"Wait, Lord Karl... Where are you going?"
Suddenly, Dalton's voice came from behind.
"Uh, Dalton, where else would I go? Of course, to get in line." Karl didn't look back and replied quietly.
"Lord Karl, queuing is something only commoners do..."