Victor was unhappy.
He had been thoroughly deceived by the combined efforts of a sorceress and his own familiarity-induced blind spot.
As one of the rare materials he had acquired early in his witcher career, the Rose of Remembrance was a magical medium connected to the mind, possessing calming and focusing properties. Whether through Miraculous Alchemy or ordinary alchemy, Victor had developed quite a few uses for it.
Precisely because he was so accustomed to the flower, when Philippa claimed the antidote required a Rose of Remembrance together with dwarven immortelle to heal the mind, not only Iorveth and Zoltan but Victor himself had accepted it without much thought and handed the flower over.
Even later, after he gained the ability to hear the Plant Voice and performed a second inspection of the ingredients that night, the Rose of Remembrance had remained hidden in plain sight. He had checked only the dwarven immortelle and Dragon's Dream.
In other words, during Saskia's treatment several days earlier, Philippa Eilhart had played him for a fool right in front of everyone.
There was always a little truth hidden inside fairy tales, and dreamy love stories were no exception.
When activated through a kiss, the Rose of Remembrance possessed an extraordinary effect...
...
And so Victor was very unhappy.
He put away the potion book as evidence and prepared to find the sorceress and settle the score.
But just as he stepped across the threshold, a low humming suddenly filled the room.
A magically guided prison activated and trapped him inside.
He had to give Philippa credit.
The sorceress had not even spared her own home, installing a triggered anti-theft trap inside it.
Caught in the magical prison, the witcher remained serious but unflustered. He activated his Magic Sense and studied how the mechanism worked.
It did not take him long to understand the principle.
Several nodes had been positioned around the room, and together they formed a magical cage that sealed the entire chamber. It also incorporated a spatial-temporal anchor, preventing the target from escaping through teleportation.
It was an entirely sensible arrangement.
For a sorceress like Philippa, the hypothetical intruder would most likely be another mage or sorceress. Naturally, any proper trap needed to block blinking and portals if it was going to keep the trespasser securely imprisoned.
Normally, the next stage would be some hidden mechanism designed to kill the burglar.
Perhaps Philippa had lacked time or materials, or perhaps her cavern dwelling simply was not suitable for such things.
Whatever the reason, no golem guards emerged, nor did poisonous gas begin pouring into the room.
That gave Victor plenty of time to slowly analyze the formation and attempt to destroy its magical nodes.
...
While the witcher was working out how to escape his prison, the owner of the room, Philippa Eilhart, was wearing an elegant, reserved smile as she stood beside the victorious Saskia and welcomed the defeated King Henselt.
It was time to dictate terms beneath the city walls.
Or rather, atop them, since the negotiations were taking place on the wall itself.
Henselt removed the red skullcap from his head and straightforwardly showed respect toward the victor before beginning the formal negotiation between nobles.
"I'm glad the war is over, King Henselt," the Virgin of Aedirn said stiffly.
The Lord of Ard Carraigh shook his head.
"Yes. You won. The victor speaks."
"You know my conditions. You will withdraw from Aedirn, sign an unconditional surrender, and guarantee that your army will never cross the Pontar again."
"Is that all?"
"You will pay war reparations and recognize Saskia of Vergen as ruler of Upper Aedirn."
Everything up to this point was only natural. There was little room for argument.
"And what about me and my men? How will we be treated?"
Saskia's eyes looked strangely vacant.
"I give you your freedom. That is priceless. Look at how many of my people paid for theirs with their lives."
"How much do you want in reparations?" Henselt asked.
Philippa Eilhart interjected with a pleasant smile.
"The summit at Loc Muinne will begin soon. We would prefer to discuss the value of the war reparations there, under the witness of the other monarchs.
"There is also one matter the Dragonslayer has not mentioned..."
Henselt glanced curiously toward Saskia.
When she showed no objection, he raised his right hand.
"Speak, witch. I'm listening."
"War has existed in the past, exists now, and will continue in the future. Whenever someone wins, someone else must lose. Military conflict should therefore be governed by chivalric principles and law."
"I don't need you teaching me that! Sorceress, get to the point."
"The war criminal who employed magic during this conflict, Dethmold, must be punished."
Henselt frowned at the demand.
"He didn't personally slaughter anyone, and I need a royal advisor."
"War criminals must be punished, just as Sabrina Glevissig was. Spellcasters who violate the rules of honorable warfare cannot be forgiven," Saskia replied flatly.
"And you will have a new advisor, Síle de Tansarville," Philippa Eilhart added lightly.
Henselt glared furiously at Saskia.
"Has your witch advisor gone mad!? She's interfering in a king's choice of counselor and trying to dictate Kaedwen's internal affairs."
"It is a necessary provision. Lady Saskia agrees with me," the sorceress replied calmly.
The Dragonslayer's face remained expressionless.
"Your Majesty, someone must answer for what happened. Dethmold committed crimes. He should be punished."
After several moments of silence, Henselt tugged at his collar.
"Fine! Have it your way. Do whatever you want with him! But I don't know where he is. Not long ago, he took men around the mountain to attack through the rear passage, and I haven't heard from him since. If I hadn't mistakenly believed he was the one who opened the gate, I wouldn't have charged in so carelessly."
Philippa had already received reliable information from her spies confirming that the male mage had indeed disappeared.
She replied calmly, "Wherever Dethmold is, we will find him sooner or later. I demand that Kaedwen offer him no protection."
"You have my word."
Henselt waved irritably.
Philippa spread her hands in satisfaction.
"Then now, please swear that you will leave this land forever."
The King of Kaedwen could no longer stop himself from complaining.
"Hey! Who exactly am I negotiating with here? The Dragonslayer or this witch?"
"Lady Philippa Eilhart and I share the same position," Saskia said.
Henselt sneered.
"Young ruler, allow me to give you some advice. Be careful around sorceresses. They always seem to forget who outranks whom."
Saskia gently shook her head.
"Philippa is my advisor. She has every right to speak on my behalf."
"Indeed, Your Majesty. We are all waiting for your oath."
Philippa bowed.
Their seemingly complete unity left no obvious opening for Henselt to exploit.
The Lord of Ard Carraigh lowered his head and hesitated for a moment.
Then he straightened proudly.
"I, Henselt, King of Kaedwen, swear before these witnesses that I will withdraw from the borders of Aedirn. I recognize Saskia of Vergen's authority over the Pontar Valley. And I swear to pay whatever war reparations are agreed upon at Loc Muinne."
He maintained the dignity of a king.
His voice might have been filled with anger and resentment, but there was no ambiguity in the oath itself.
"You are free to leave now, Your Majesty," Saskia said with a wave of her hand.
Philippa gave an order.
"Show the king the way."
Two spies stepped forward to guide Henselt, allowing him to lead his remaining men back north.
...
Once the negotiations ended, the sorceress turned toward the newly established ruler.
"It's time to leave, Saskia."
"Yes. You're right."
Saskia turned stiffly toward the others.
"Philippa and I are leaving for Loc Muinne now to attend the summit and secure recognition of Vergen's independence from the other kings. Discuss the remaining matters among yourselves for the time being."
Without further explanation, the two women headed toward the portal point in the tower.
...
Although Saskia had become somewhat strange, the dwarves did not pay much attention.
The Virgin had never been heavily involved in administration anyway.
As long as Alderman Cecil Burdon remained in Vergen, the city's government would not fall into chaos.
Iorveth, however, clenched his fist and frowned.
"Something isn't right. I don't like this. Who does Philippa think she is?"
Angoulême's thick eyebrows also knitted together.
"I fought beside Saskia all day. I think I've gotten to know her at least a little, and she shouldn't be obeying anyone that meekly.
"Her eyes look like she's just taken a full dose of fisstech, and I mean a full dose."
"I can assure you she never abuses drugs. We need to catch up with them!"
Iorveth immediately rushed ahead.
But they were still a step too late.
A pale golden arc opened before them.
Philippa and Saskia vanished through the portal.
"Damn it! Let's search Eilhart's house. She left in a hurry. Maybe she left something behind."
...
Iorveth and Angoulême quickly reached Philippa's residence.
But just as they approached, an explosion thundered through the building.
Boom!
The entire dwelling erupted into a blazing inferno, and the dwarves nearby immediately scattered to fetch water and fight the fire.
Then, from the heart of the flames, a young, powerfully built witcher strode out as though nothing had happened.
"Vic! What are you doing here?"
"I'll explain why I'm here later. Where are Saskia and Philippa? I have a score to settle with that sorceress."
"They just left through a portal. Tell me what's going on."
Iorveth stared sharply at Victor.
Victor planted his right hand on his hip.
Seeing that no one else was nearby, the witcher lowered his voice.
"The antidote for Magepain, Thaumador, doesn't require a Rose of Remembrance."
He did not need to say anything more.
Iorveth and Angoulême had already been suspicious, and they immediately connected Victor's revelation with Saskia's strange behavior.
They quickly told him everything that had happened.
By then, Zoltan and Dandelion had also arrived and joined the growing audience.
After they finished exchanging information, the witcher let out a long sigh.
"Think of a kiss filled with love. In fairy tales, it can possess astonishing power, enough to break the most terrible curse.
"The opposite can also be true. A kiss filled with malice can bring control and ruin.
"I suspect... No. I'm certain Philippa deliberately added the Rose of Remembrance to the antidote and used the opportunity to seize control of Saskia's mind."
"I'm going to kill that filthy bitch!"
Once he understood what had happened, Iorveth exploded with rage.
"That won't be easy. Did they say where they were going before they left?"
"...After the negotiations with Henselt ended, they said they were heading to the summit at Loc Muinne to seek recognition from the kings."
"Then it looks like if we want Saskia back, we'll have to pursue them to that ancient elven city."
Iorveth bit his lower lip.
"Vic, I need your help. Vergen cannot lose Saskia, the Conqueror of Kaedwen, the ruler of the Pontar Valley whose authority Henselt himself swore to recognize.
"Without the Virgin, this victory means nothing. The different peoples living here are willing to unite only beneath her banner. If she disappears, everything will fall apart."
"All right. I was planning to go there anyway," Victor agreed.
Dandelion swept his fingers across the strings of his lute.
"I'm going too. The elite of the entire North will be gathering at Loc Muinne. If I'm not there to witness it, I'll never forgive myself. It would be a crime against art!"
"But I suggest you stay here.
"First, this city needs your songs to help maintain stability.
"Second, I have a strange feeling about Loc Muinne. Think about it. There are kingslayers, sorceresses, several kings, and a whole swarm of mages. That is one hundred percent the perfect stage for a finale.
"I guarantee you that this Loc Muinne summit won't end without some catastrophe and a few dozen corpses.
"And when all that horror begins, I'd rather you weren't standing in the middle of it."
Dandelion understood the danger hidden within the witcher's words.
He removed his hat and bowed.
"Alas! How cruelly fate forces me to bid you farewell, Victor of Kaer Trolde, my kindred spirit! From the depths of my heart, I pray that our paths will cross again!"
"Stop making it sound so tragic. We both know exactly what happens every time our paths cross. You bring me endless trouble..."
Victor said this while embracing Dandelion.
"But I'm still looking forward to seeing you again, my friend."
The mohawked dwarf Zoltan Chivay stroked his beard and burst into laughter.
...
At noon the following day, the Phantom Troupe passed through the massive iron gate and arrived at the ferry landing, preparing to leave Vergen by ship.
The sturdy vessel had been abandoned during Kaedwen's retreat.
Iorveth had requisitioned it to transport the elite group bound for Loc Muinne.
Leaning against the railing and looking back at the city they had fought to defend, Angoulême was filled with emotion.
She shouted toward the shore.
"Boss! The ship's ready to leave!"
"Coming!"
Victor shouted back.
Smiling, he embraced the friends who had come to see them off, Dandelion, Zoltan, and Lansi.
"Then I'm off!"
"Take care on the road!" the three replied together.
Victor nodded and boarded the ship.
The braided young woman desperately wanted to go with them, but she and Zoltan had to remain behind to manage the Scoia'tael and the dwarven militia.
Once their leader was aboard, Angoulême yawned.
"It feels so quiet. Yesterday this place was filled with killing and war horns, and today it's this peaceful..."
"Yeah. Henselt chose to withdraw during the night. He needs to reach Loc Muinne as well," Victor said.
"Too bad you didn't see him yesterday. He was unbelievably arrogant before charging in, then unbelievably pathetic when he ran away."
"You look awfully pleased with yourself. Was it really that much fun?"
"Of course! Everyone won something precious, their freedom. Even Dandelion worked so hard, so I have to keep trying too!"
Angoulême made a face at her leader.
Victor chuckled.
"Yeah. You're right. Everything we've done in Vergen so far hasn't been for nothing..."
"As long as we rescue Saskia, freedom and a free tomorrow are waiting for us," Iorveth quietly concluded.
And so the sturdy ship sailed eastward against the current of the Pontar, carrying them deeper into the Blue Mountains.
...
A warm, mellow voice-over began to speak.
"Síle de Tansarville. From the very beginning, I sensed that something dark lurked behind that icy face of hers...
"After the Thanedd coup destroyed the Council of Mages, no one remained capable of restraining the behavior of mages. But regicide!?
"They actually dared murder kings?
"What depths of depravity must one sink to before such an act seems reasonable? What sort of twisted mind could justify it?
"The answers to these horrifying questions, according to a prophecy delivered by my close friend Victor, would be revealed at the summit of Loc Muinne. At certain special moments, he does not hesitate to display this unparalleled gift of his.
"As for Loc Muinne itself, that city buried deep within the Blue Mountains, it is the birthplace of human magic, a priceless inheritance left behind by elven civilization, and the place where the Council of Mages is to be reestablished.
"At this point, you may be asking, 'Master Dandelion, if the occasion was so important, why did you not travel to Loc Muinne and immortalize it in song?'
"The answer is simple.
"Vergen had won its freedom, but freedom cannot survive if those who possess it do not understand how to preserve it. In a country that temporarily lacks anyone capable of pointing the way forward, freedom can slip through one's fingers all too easily.
"Thus, remaining in the Pontar Valley, teaching through poetry, and protecting freedom until it could take root and blossom seemed to be the mission heaven itself had entrusted to me.
"Who could ever have imagined that I would become a bard who sang the praises of liberty?
"Feeling deeply the immense responsibility I now shared for the fate of the North, I parted ways with my loyal and extraordinarily capable friend, Victor of Kaer Trolde, and therefore could not travel to Loc Muinne.
"But my heart remained with him!
"What happened afterward is known to everyone.
"At Loc Muinne, Victor demonstrated the full strength of his iron will.
"'Anyone who crosses him, even a sorceress, can forget about having an easy time of it! He won't hesitate to kick them right between the legs with those log-thick legs of his!'"
Excerpt from A Brave Man's Monologue, by Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810