"Lady Anna Henrietta's official title," said the palace steward Sebastian, who not only looked like a pastry chef, but even smelled faintly of icing to Victor's extraordinary sense of smell, "is Her Enlightened Ladyship. The unofficial title used outside the court is Lady Duchess. But you may call her Your Grace at any time."
"Thank you for your guidance. I will keep it firmly in mind. And what about the other lady? How should I address her?"
"Lady Fringilla's official title is Honourable, the Honourable Lady," the palace steward explained sincerely to the witcher. "But you may also simply call her my lady. She is a relative of the duchess and normally resides in the palace."
Victor's bearing was calm and indifferent. "Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Sebastian. I have benefited greatly."
"The honor is mine, respected Knight Victor. Your manners and upbringing are outstanding among northerners, and impeccable even in the south. Truly impressive!" After escorting them all the way to the palace gate, the palace steward Sebastian placed a hand over his chest and bowed, bidding farewell to the group.
Victor returned the salute with a hand over his chest. "Thank you for the praise regarding my upbringing. There is only one point, if you pay a little attention, you will discover that I come from east of Zerrikania. Of course, this is not a reproach."
…
Some time later, inside The Pheasantry.
"Of course, this is not a reproach!" Angoulême imitated Victor with exaggerated seriousness. Her tone, cadence, and posture were all vividly accurate, especially the high turn on the words "of course," fully displaying the theatrical affectation unique to courtly language.
The strong sarcasm made Milton slap his thigh. "Heh heh ha ha ha ha ha!" His hearty laughter spread across the balcony, and even the more old-fashioned Palmerin could not hide his smile.
As for Victor, who was being mocked, he forgave Angoulême's mischief with the mentality of an old father. Looking across the river at the palace, which was still brilliantly lit, he leisurely picked up a glass of Chateau Mont Valjean and tasted it.
After leaving the palace, the two knights, Milton and Palmerin, led the Phantom Troupe to The Pheasantry for dinner. It was said that this place normally required reservations. However, Milton only had to say, "The duchess hopes that Mr. Victor can taste Beauclair's finest cuisine," and the restaurant owner cheerfully took the initiative to explain the situation to the other guests and free up the best viewing spot on the second-floor balcony, fully proving that Her Enlightened Ladyship's rule was deeply loved by the people.
The elegant seats were separated by wooden screens. The late summer night breeze brushed their faces with a faint coolness, the castle before them looked dreamlike, and the moon reflected in the river made for a perfect scene.
As for whether the meal was delicious, since it could boast of being the best in a commercial city with no worries about famine, the answer was self-evident.
The main dishes were peppered and salted fish tower, duck confit, herb-crusted lamb chops, and beef stewed in red wine, accompanied by stewed vegetables. The baguette could be paired with fish liver pâté or Camembert, the soup was onion soup, and dessert was honey croissants and chocolate soufflé.
The four of them opened three bottles of wine in total. Duke Nicolas Chardonnay was said to pair very well with fish tower and duck confit, while Chateau Mont Valjean and Saint Mathieu Rouge were both perfect matches for beef or lamb chops. The witcher, who was interested in establishing a vineyard estate in Toussaint, carefully tasted the differences between the several fine wines.
Toussaint truly was a wonderful country, Beauclair was also a good place, and Milton and Palmerin were even better friends. Before they knew it, they had eaten and drunk their fill, and the Phantom Troupe sank into a pleasantly tipsy state. The atmosphere of the gathering was warm and harmonious.
Suddenly, Knight Milton, whose shield bore the image of a bull's head, said, "Victor, though it is somewhat embarrassing to say this, there is actually something I would like to ask of you, and it brooks no delay."
Swallowing a mouthful of Saint Mathieu Rouge, its dry astringency just right, the witcher set down his wine glass. "Oh… then speak quickly, dear Baron Peyrac-Peyran. Why hesitate? I thought we were already friends."
Rubbing his bald head, Milton looked somewhat shy. "Er… I fear this must be said in private."
"There are no secrets between Angoulême and me," Victor said, tapping the table. "But since an honorable knight says so, I believe there must be a reasonable cause, so…" He indicated with his eyes.
"Tch! Secrets of noble uncles?" Wiping the corners of her mouth clean, Angoulême stood and tossed her napkin onto the table. "Then I'll go back to the room first! Excuse me, Beard Uncle… and Sideburns Uncle."
With a graceful bow, the girl left lightly.
After Angoulême had gone far enough, Victor clapped twice to break the silence. "Gentlemen, I am all ears."
The two knights looked at each other and nodded.
Milton's voice was low and heavy. "Please understand, this is not merely my personal commission, but the shared request of countless brave knights of Toussaint… and to a brave witcher like you, this matter should pose no difficulty at all." As he spoke, he stroked the beard on his chin. "It only requires you to grant us a little sympathy and understanding."
Victor suddenly had a very subtle premonition.
"It is like this," Baron Peyrac-Peyran lowered his voice and nervously looked around, "regarding the succubus… the monster that appears at night, the very one the duchess and the ladies have asked you to eliminate. Could you tell me what your fee for killing such a monster would be?"
The witcher pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, gentlemen, that is a trade secret."
"We understand, we understand completely." Knight Palmerin, whose coat of arms was a cross and golden lilies, picked up the Chateau Mont Valjean and refilled Victor's glass. "After these many days together, I am very clear that you are an upright man, Vic. To be honest, I worry that saying this will make you feel we are insulting you, but I must say it. Please abandon this contract, Master Witcher.
"Please do not harm that succubus. Upon my honor, you will suffer no loss whatsoever, and we absolutely will not tell the duchess and the ladies. In Toussaint, men outnumber women, and by the Five Virtues, the extent of our generosity will astonish you!"
"…I almost thought my ears had deceived me," the witcher blinked. "Your proposal does indeed sound rather close to an insult. Are you asking me to abandon my duty?"
"Mr. Victor, this is not actually contrary to your calling," Palmerin de Launfal said, his face both grave and serious. "The reason we dare make this proposal is because according to the witchers' code, which we do understand to some extent, only monsters that pose a threat, a true threat, are your targets for hunting.
"Not imagined threats, nor threats born of ignorance or prejudice. Allow me to testify to you, that succubus has never threatened anyone, nor harmed anyone.
"Oh, she merely… visits sleeping men now and then… and plays a few small, harmless pranks…"
"And only adults!" Milton de Peyrac-Peyran quickly added, his dignified mustache neat and imposing.
By this point, the matter was already very clear. "If the ladies of Toussaint knew about this conversation," Victor rolled his eyes, "I fear they would be very unhappy. I suspect the duchess might even erupt like a volcano!"
"We agree completely," Palmerin de Launfal said in a low voice. "That is why we hope everything will remain private, a secret based on sympathy and understanding. There is no need to anger those stubborn guardians of morality.
"Perhaps you do not know this, but Her Enlightened Ladyship dislikes a certain profession. So despite Beauclair being so prosperous, with a bustling and flourishing market that even northern Vengerberg or the city of Vergen cannot compare to, there is actually only one hidden… establishment in the port district."
Victor understood what the knight meant. He was well aware that Beauclair's pleasure industry was extremely withered. Angoulême had emphasized many times that she dreamed of opening a large academy of technique here, guaranteeing a steady profit with no chance of loss!
Thinking about how even taking a bath had to be done furtively here, Victor suddenly felt his heart filled with sympathy and understanding.
"Wait, that's not right! Why are you so practiced at persuading me? You're not even afraid I'll get angry?… Could it be that in the past, you also…"
"Ah… as expected of you, Knight Victor, a man well versed in human affairs!" Knight Milton nodded with a cheerful smile, admitting it. "Since Mr. Geralt several years ago, we have already reached an understanding with several groups of witchers. The last two people who, because of their heavy gold coins, had no choice but to open accounts at the local bank only left not long ago. Perhaps you know them as well, Master Vesemir and Mr. Leo."
Victor was immediately speechless. If every senior had done this, was he supposed to stand out by being different? What was more, for reasons known to all, in his heart he did not want to kill the succubus either…
He picked up his wine glass and drank a large mouthful. "…By the local bank, you mean Cianfanelli Bank?"
"Of course. Dwarven banks are reliable."
Setting down his glass, Victor propped his chin on his hand. "Very well. Speaking of which, people forget so many things every day, and witchers are no exception. When one is busy, there will always be oversights. I too have once, because of a more important commission, accidentally forgotten some unimportant…" At this point, he paused slightly.
The old-fashioned knight Palmerin picked up the thread accurately. "Ah, indeed. Matters have their priorities. Unimportant things are very easy to forget."
"…Open an account for me at Cianfanelli Bank as well," Victor covered his face with his hand and said slowly and calmly. "Then use your generosity to make me forget a few things. But remember, making me lose my memory is not easy."
"We will do our utmost," Peyrac-Peyran laughed. That hearty laugh did not sound like "doing his utmost" at all. It sounded more like complete confidence.
In that instant, a certain mysterious tacit understanding linked their hearts. It was a sincerity that all men understood, and then they bowed to one another and parted.
…
On the way back to his room, Victor remembered how, when he had once played as Geralt in the game, he had been stopped as soon as he arrived in Beauclair and told that a sum of money was waiting for him at the bank. So this was what had happened…
Whether posterity praised or condemned him, history alone would judge.
He reached out and pinched a fallen leaf drifting through the air. One falling leaf heralds autumn.
Releasing the leaf, this, this was the collective burden of history!
…
With this grief of bearing the collective burden of history hidden in his chest, the witcher Victor returned to his room and began alchemy with great enthusiasm.
Even if he would have an account at the local bank tomorrow, one filled with floren coins, that could not stop him tonight from turning even more Foltests into the Black Sun! Since he did not plan to kill the succubus, the reward hinted at by the duchess, Corvo Bianco, was probably out of reach. He could only work a little harder, run his side business, and earn enough money to buy an estate.
The reason Victor's current state of mind could be so relaxed was that the Duchy of Toussaint's storyline belonged to a portion he had once played through. In terms of setting, this region basically had no war, and the crisis happened after the main storyline ended. It would probably not become an issue until after Ciri returned and finished fighting the Wild Hunt.
Moreover, as soon as trouble arose, they knew to call the White Wolf, Geralt, over to save the day. This operation was as steady as bedrock, and there was no need for him to interfere at all.
Therefore, the only life goal currently belonging to Victor was to find Professor Moreau's mutation laboratory. Everything else was a side quest, something to do when there was nothing better, optional whether he did it or not.
As for the main storyline, he calculated in his heart that since Geralt had already defeated Jacques, that unstable factor, the Kingdom of Temeria presumably would not inexplicably be destroyed by the Nilfgaardian Empire.
So his next plan was very simple. First, obtain the method for secondary mutations. Then buy a vineyard, hang up a sign, and enjoy both alchemy and leisure. Once he cultivated the methods of an alchemy master, he would go north and wait for Ciri's return, letting the plot naturally advance.
Victor had no intention of wildly changing the plot. There were two reasons. First, he had never actually fought the Wild Hunt, so he did not know their strength, but at the very least he could infer that they were definitely not as weak as they were in the game. Otherwise, with so many mages in the world, they would not all have been helpless against the Wild Hunt. Second, if he acted recklessly without absolute confidence in saving the world, and the main plot accidentally collapsed, it would be very troublesome.
Though he was unwilling to admit this, Jacques had indeed used his life to prove that the White Frost was coming, and had dumped the responsibility of saving the world into his hands.
"Since you chose to refuse, take responsibility. Do not let things become worse!"
Every time he thought of Siegfried's retelling, Victor felt annoyed. He had no interest in being a savior, and this kind of moral shackle that demanded repayment for a favor was even more detestable. But he had to admit that Jacques's request happened to land right at the bottom line he was willing to accept, "Do not let things become worse!"
Fortunately, as a prophet, he knew that as long as the plot proceeded normally to the end, the White Frost that would destroy the world would be stopped by Ciri no matter what. However, whether Ciri could return alive to the witcher world after defeating the White Frost depended on whether Geralt had properly spent time with her during those days after her return and coaxed his daughter into being happy!
If Ciri was in a good mood and full of motivation, the White Frost would be defeated by her, and she would joyfully return home to meet the future. If Ciri was in a bad mood, depressed and irritated, she would perish together with the White Frost, and Geralt, having lost his beloved daughter, would go to the swamp to commit suicide.
In other words, what he had to do was backup work. If Geralt, as a father, failed in his duty and could not make Ciri happy, then Victor would step forward, shoulder his responsibility as an older brother, and let her be filled with boundless happiness and joy!
…
Some time later.
When Victor had finished making his complete future plan, amid a flashing seven-colored light, another batch of floren coins came out of the cauldron. Angoulême threw aside her book and bounced over to the cauldron with a little hop to watch.
"Whoa, amazing. This pot could at least buy a toilet in Beauclair!" The girl looked like a little money-grubber.
Setting down the stirring rod, Victor casually instructed, "If you like it that much, then I'll leave this pot of coins for you to clean up. Your skimming must not exceed ten percent."
After saying that, he lay down on the bed fully dressed and prepared to fall into a deep sleep.
Angoulême, however, thought of something and began bothering him. "Vic, why didn't we stay in the palace? It saves money and it's convenient. I stayed there a few years ago. Nothing would happen."
The witcher yawned. "The situation is different now. Who knows whether the lady truly invited us sincerely? A few years ago, Dandelion was there holding the fort. Now, who knows where he's wandering around!"
"Don't be so suspicious! I saw that the duchess had a blue aura, which means she's friendly toward me. And several uncles we met also showed blue."
"What about the Honourable Lady Fringilla?"
"…Colorless. Neither good nor bad. But that's because I didn't like her a few years ago either. I even complained to her face that our journey hadn't ended, yet she kept wanting to tie Uncle Geralt to her belt!"
Victor had not expected there to be such a story between Angoulême and the sorceress, and he chuckled. "It's fine. This has nothing to do with you. It is my personal safety measure. Before I advance to alchemy master, no matter what, I will not live on a sorcerer's territory, and I certainly will not let them notice miraculous alchemy."
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