—
After a couple of minutes of small talk to excuse himself, Gustave finally said, "In that case, forgive me for not being able to entertain you further, Monsieur Bellesoleil. I need to go now. Just bring a lock of Vivienne's hair—or, better yet, bring her here directly so that I may proceed to undo the curse. The journey will take only four to five days, if you are swift."
"Then permit me to beg your leave as well, noble Prince. I shall return without delay to my residence in Corvo City, in Toussaint. There may yet remain a strand or two of my daughter's hair within her chamber, from the days when she still resided under my roof."
Pausing, Bellesoleil continued, "Failing that, I shall make my way to Beauclair and speak with her in person. Should my daughter consent to accompany me, I trust that Her Highness, Princess Anna Henrietta, will allow my Vivienne to leave the palace for a short while."
Nodding in silence, knowing that Toussaint contained cities never shown in Blood and Wine, Gustave bade Bellesoleil farewell and was not surprised by the mention of Corvo City. From the moment he had met Vysogota, he had known that the Toussaint depicted in the game did not represent the entirety of the real duchy.
From Mount Gorgon alone—where he had once seen pictures of CDPR developers back on Earth—it was clear that the mountain's foothills were missing many traces of elven architecture and ruins.
After all, those foothills were where Divethaf, the last elven king to live in the area, had resided during the pogroms of Toussaint's past, yet in the game they appeared as little more than bland mountains, devoid of any remarkable landmarks.
Coupled with the fact that, during his playthrough of Blood and Wine, he had been unable to access a forest dominated by a towering stone monolith guarding the woodland beyond—something he deduced to be Caed Myrkvid—it became evident that the Blood and Wine map represented only a small portion of the greater Toussaint.
It did not encompass places such as Corvo City, where many Toussaintois families who wished to avoid Beauclair's politics chose to live. That was why, from the moment he was born into this world, so many things continued to surprise him—on Earth, he had experienced it only from a third-person perspective, unable to feel the place's true nuances.
That same sense of surprise surfaced once more when he arrived at the palace workshops and saw the contraptions Zoltan had built—devices that existed in the game, yet had completely slipped his mind.
Stepping into the furnace-hot workspace filled with Rivian blacksmiths, with Zoltan maintaining his own forge in a separate room, Gustave was finally able to see the camera of this world—along with an almost-functional printing device that Zoltan had assembled within just twenty-four hours of arriving.
Glancing at the Vaucanson 1.0 that Zoltan was currently using, Gustave walked up to the display worktable. Picking up the Parestisomach, he remarked, "Parestisomach, huh? I didn't know you could make this thing, Zoltan. I thought only people from Kovir were able to build this contraption."
Remembering the day his grandfather had taught him how to make a Megascope—and recalling how that same grandfather had reverse-engineered a Parestisomach during a visit to Kovir—Zoltan briefly explained, "Nay, princeling. Ain't just them Kovirians what can make it. We Mahakam dwarves can churn one out just by lookin' at the damn thing."
Stopping the treadle of the lathe and leaving the work as it was, a yawn escaping his mouth, Zoltan continued, "But even if we can make it, only Kovir's allowed—by law an' leash—to make an' sell the thing."
"Same rot as Megascopes. Only the Chapter's got leave to forge an' flog 'em. Parestisomachs—an' any other contraption with a whiff o' magic—have to crawl through the sorcerers' endless parchment pits."
Spitting into the forge fire, Zoltan remarked, "Ptui. Selfish lot, every last one. So aye, even if we Mahakam dwarves know how, our hands're tied. Soon as magic's involved, we're shoved back to swords an' axes."
Looking at the lathe—which had essentially become a lifesaver for a future where non-magical contraptions could be made easily—Zoltan slapped the machine's side and exclaimed, "But with this, though! With this, we can do much more without the Chapter comin' down on us!"
"By their own shite-soaked Magical Laws and Regulations, set down since the ninth century, there ain't a single bloody word about contraptions that don't need magic to run! Not one! So with this, we can slip round the law nice an' clean and make somethin' real!"
Stunned and tongue-tied by these revelations, Gustave realized that, without having lived in this world, he would never have imagined how thoroughly the convenience of creation through magic had been monopolized.
And upon learning that, were it not for the Chapter of the Gift and the Art and their Magical Laws and Regulations, Mahakam would likely have already advanced into something akin to a Warhammer Fantasy–style dwarven civilization—using rune magic to create countless magical contraptions—Gustave couldn't help but frown.
His deduction that the Chapter had become a true hindrance was, regrettably, correct.
The selfishness of the sorceresses had stunted societal progress in the magical realm for ordinary people. They were left trapped in a medieval state, while those who wielded Power lived in luxury.
They enjoyed modern—or even advanced modern—standards of living simply because they monopolized anything that carried even a whiff of magic. All of it enforced through regulations they themselves had written during the founding era of the Chapter.
Which meant that, were it not for the Chapter, the people of this world might already have reached beyond the stars. All because magic existed—something anyone could manipulate, if only by proxy, as alchemists or blacksmith did.
Or even architects. Because unlike architects on Earth, those of this world employed ley lines when designing magical structures.
Structures such as the Cianfanelli Bank in the Blood and Wine DLC, which was enchanted to defend against numerous magical influences, including hypnosis, telepathy, Witcher Signs, and spells.
Knowing that there were many examples of ordinary people, just as intelligent as sorcerers, who were able to create magical works without being Sources in the first place—from various professions, to the point that even a scientist like Oppenhauser could create true perpetual motion through magic—Gustave suddenly sat down, unable to keep himself from frowning.
This realization meant that no matter how beneficial and good his inventions might be, if the Chapter chose to ban them, Lyria and Rivia would remain nothing more than poor, ordinary kingdoms. As he thought hard about how to solve this problem, he suddenly remembered that he was no longer alone.
Deducing that Calanthe had likely already found a solution—one that would allow his creativity to flourish without the Chapter breathing down his neck—Gustave stood up, resolved to seek out Alvin and ask for the answer Calanthe's potent prophetic abilities had surely already uncovered.
Pausing his work on the modified paddle steamers and rail wagonways, Gustave decided to travel to the Isle of Avalon first.
He bade Zoltan farewell, urging him to rest after twenty-four hours of nonstop invention, before finally exiting the workshop and heading into the palace's teleportation hub—one that could be used freely only by the royal lineage or individuals of similar importance, like himself.
—