Victor's conversation with Radovid had gone exceptionally well. The young bald king was practically a walking treasure trove, there seemed to be nothing happening in Loc Muinne that he didn't know about!
Seeing the game become reality, Victor could understand why Radovid had been such an important quest giver. But reality wasn't a game, and how much of what the king had said was actually true remained open to question.
Sitting on a flight of steps beside the Trade Quarter, Victor tore into the roast chicken he'd just bought while considering his next move.
There was a great deal he needed to accomplish before the peace summit began the day after tomorrow.
First, Triss Merigold was being held prisoner in the Nilfgaardian camp. Second, Anaïs La Valette was also under house arrest in the Nilfgaardian camp, and would be transferred to the Kaedweni camp that evening. Finally, there was Saskia the Dragonslayer, who, according to the information available, was staying somewhere near the Trade Quarter.
Victor analyzed the three main objectives.
There were absolutely no clues explaining why Triss Merigold had come to Loc Muinne, why she'd fallen into Shilard's hands, or even why she'd confessed Síle's involvement in the assassinations.
Judging from Radovid's tone, Shilard apparently still had some use for Triss, so the sorceress probably wasn't in immediate danger.
Still, whether for old times' sake or simple friendship, Victor had decided to get her out as soon as possible.
Of course, an even better option would be to find Geralt and let the White Wolf play the knight in shining armor. Triss would probably prefer being rescued by a legendary hero riding gallantly to her aid.
Then there was Anaïs La Valette.
That poor little girl now wielded enormous political influence over the North. With her younger brother Boussy dead in an "accident," she had become one of the strongest claimants to Temeria.
Perhaps Victor could inform Regent Natalis and let the Temerians handle the problem themselves.
But he had to consider the possibility that the information was false, deliberately planted to provoke a conflict between Temeria and either Nilfgaard or Kaedwen.
In any case, whether he intended to rescue Triss or Anaïs personally, he'd have to wait until nightfall before attempting to infiltrate either camp.
That meant he should make good use of the daylight by finding Saskia and gathering information.
Victor tossed away the stripped chicken bones and wandered through the central square, where mages, mercenaries, and merchants seemed to be everywhere.
Spotting a noticeboard in one corner, Victor walked over to take a look.
There were plenty of interesting notices posted there, but two in particular caught the witcher's attention.
...
"WANTED: THE KINGSLAYER, GERALT OF RIVIA"
Woodcut portrait of the White Wolf.
Warning!
A substantial reward is hereby offered for Geralt of Rivia, the witcher known as the "White Wolf," who employed vile methods to murder a king.
Take heed, this beast is extremely dangerous. Many righteous warriors have already fallen beneath his steel sword. Capturing him will be no easy task.
Any brave soul capable of apprehending or eliminating this white-haired animal will receive a generous reward.
Carduin of Lan Exeter
...
The notice had been issued by Carduin.
Victor recalled some of the "common knowledge" he'd picked up while chatting with Siegfried the previous evening. Carduin had once been a member of the Council of Wizards and was one of the principal organizers of the Loc Muinne summit.
Victor had originally hoped that because Geralt had arrived earlier, the White Wolf might possess more useful clues.
But this official bounty made it clear that Geralt was a hunted fugitive in this city.
No wonder Siegfried had said there was little he could do. With the title of Kingslayer hanging over his head, Geralt would be arrested the moment he walked into Radovid's camp.
Being forced into hiding also made it considerably harder for Victor to find him.
He would have to put that aside for now.
Fortunately, the other notice was far more cheerful.
...
"ELEGANT HAIR ADDS SPLENDOR, FASHION REVEALS YOUR PERSONAL CHARM"
We all know how important a striking appearance can be, especially at a summit attended by mages, sorceresses, royalty, and their entourages.
Every member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers has arrived in magnificent attire, their hair arranged with consummate professional precision. Unfortunately, long journeys and the hardships encountered along the way are merciless toward even the finest stylist's work.
Even passing through a portal can produce enough static electricity to make a silk cap stand on end, slightly damaging your otherwise flawless appearance.
There is still time to avoid the terrible humiliation of appearing in public with a ruined hairstyle!
Ladies and gentlemen seeking a change of style, you can find me beneath the raised aqueduct near the tower in the central square.
Felicia Cori
...
That energetic young hairdresser had actually come all the way to Loc Muinne to do business...
As Philippa's apprentice, perhaps she knew where the sorceress was staying!?
Victor immediately headed toward the location indicated on the flyer.
Crossing the central square, Victor turned down offers from at least five mages trying to sell him various goods.
As his understanding of the world had grown, both his initial reverence toward mages and his later contempt for them had faded away.
Nowadays, Victor no longer regarded mages as beings standing far above ordinary people, but neither did he underestimate them.
In truth, most were closer to scholars. Their most powerful spells usually required lengthy preparation and complicated rituals. Even the small number of exceptionally gifted battle mages were often hindered by their lack of genuine combat experience.
Besides, being a battle mage didn't change the fundamental fact that they were physically fragile.
A mage might be capable of defeating a hundred men, perhaps even a thousand, but exhaustion or a single moment of carelessness could still allow an ordinary person to kill them.
Spellcasters deserved respect, but there was no reason to place them upon an unreachable pedestal.
...
As he approached the tower, Victor spotted a colorful merchant stall from a distance, along with a familiar slender figure.
Felicia Cori, whom he'd met in Rhundurin Square, appeared to be arguing with someone.
A sizeable crowd had gathered around them to watch.
The man wore a broad-brimmed red hat and spoke with a familiar Kaedweni accent, waving his arms dramatically as he accused her.
"You unscrupulous woman! Selling inferior virility potions, you shameless counterfeiter!"
"Nonsense! Everyone who's tried my potions says they're excellent! What evidence do you have for calling me a counterfeiter?" the hairdresser retorted with an indignant pout.
"Pah! Brazen apprentice! One look at your potion tells me everything. That emerald-green color, that silky consistency, that outstanding effect, it's obviously the masterpiece of the legendary alchemist Master Victor, Ban Ard's Finest Virility Broth, the Overwatch Potion!"
Felicia was stunned.
She'd assumed this man was merely trying to sabotage her because her business was doing too well.
She hadn't expected him to genuinely recognize where her formula came from, a product she'd reverse-engineered from the witcher's potion.
By then Victor had drawn close enough to recognize the middle-aged man delivering the passionate denunciation.
It was his former distributor of virility potions, Bras of Ban Ard.
That conspicuous hooked nose stirred old memories.
Victor had earned his first real fortune shortly after beginning his career by working with this man.
He wondered how Faithful was doing these days.
Thinking back to the first horse he'd ever given a proper name, Victor couldn't help feeling nostalgic.
How quickly the years had passed.
While Victor was lost in thought, Bras deliberately raised his voice again.
"There's no need to make excuses. You obviously stole someone else's work!"
Felicia's eyes widened.
"Y-you can't just accuse an innocent person like that..."
"Innocent? This potion in my hand is proof! If you didn't steal the formula, how could your product be eighty percent identical to mine?"
Felicia's face flushed crimson, and veins stood out on her forehead as she argued desperately.
"Reverse-engineering a formula isn't stealing... stealing a formula! Alchemists do this sort of thing all the time, how can you call it theft?"
Then came a stream of increasingly incoherent excuses.
"I worked really hard on it, okay!"
And,
"What's wrong with a good knockoff anyway?"
The surrounding crowd burst into laughter, filling the square with cheerful amusement.
Seeing Felicia losing confidence under the pressure, Bras puffed out his chest proudly.
"Everyone, listen carefully! The apprentice herself has admitted that the potion she's selling was reverse-engineered! Who would dare drink a product with no authorization and no guarantee? Drink the wrong thing and the only part of you staying stiff forever might be your corpse!
"So remember the name, Bras of Ban Ard!
"The virility potion I sell is the genuine masterpiece of Master Victor himself, the Overwatch Potion!
"It is the steel sword of passion! The sentinel of happiness! The essence that banishes impotence! The trumpet that rouses the weary!
"And today, in honor of our campaign against counterfeit goods, every set is available at the special price of only ninety-nine crowns! Take Master Victor's secret home with you today! This opportunity won't last, don't pass it by!"
Listening to Bras of Ban Ard enthusiastically use his name to hawk potions, spraying saliva everywhere as he advertised, Victor didn't know whether to laugh or get angry.
The truth was that he was watching two counterfeiters compete with one another.
The righteous and indignant Bras had simply enjoyed more time to work on his reverse-engineering process, so his imitation was better.
Morally speaking, however, there wasn't much separating the two.
Neither of them had paid Victor a single crown in licensing fees.
Victor wasn't surprised that Bras would do something like this.
He hadn't expected the same from Felicia.
Still, people in this age retained a certain straightforward sense of shame.
Once confronted, Felicia had immediately become guilty enough to practically confess.
Even Bras hadn't tried to erase the formula's origins. Although he'd renamed his version the Overwatch Potion, he still openly acknowledged that it was based on Victor's formula.
Naturally, from the alchemist's perspective, they were both villains stealing money from his pocket.
Seeing Felicia's eyes beginning to redden with frustration, Victor couldn't bear to watch any longer.
He drew a breath and raised his voice.
"Hey, everyone! Bras isn't entirely correct. I can testify that the apprentice is selling an authentic product, officially authorized by Master Victor himself."
Whoosh!
Every eye immediately shifted from Bras to the alchemist.
"Who are you, newcomer? What gives you the right to testify?"
"Maybe the sorceress hired him to promote her potions?"
"Wait... he's a witcher..."
The crowd began murmuring among themselves.
As for the two people at the center of the dispute, both stared directly at Victor.
Felicia immediately relaxed, her face blossoming into a brilliant smile.
With Victor acknowledging her publicly, from this moment onward she was officially an authorized seller. No one could accuse her of peddling counterfeit garbage anymore.
Bras of Ban Ard, meanwhile, stared at Victor's face without recognizing him.
He could only suppress the nagging sense of familiarity in his chest.
"Sir, on what grounds can you say that? Do you know Master Victor personally?"
The witcher casually brushed dust from his shoulder armor.
"On what grounds? Because I used to be... I still am... I am Master Victor himself. It's been a long time, Mr. Bras."
"That... can't be right! Victor looked completely different from you. I can't simply accept your claim. Do you have any other evidence?"
It was perfectly understandable that Bras hadn't recognized him.
Victor had still been growing during the past two years, and his physique had changed dramatically.
Sword scars, the Trial of the Grasses, and repeated tempering through blood and fire had transformed his bearing as well. The unremarkable young man Bras remembered had long since disappeared.
Truth required no disguise.
The alchemist smiled mysteriously.
"Honored Mr. Bras, that's easy enough to prove. First, I never gave the virility potion a name. Second, why did you stop making hangover remedies? And finally..."
Victor's smile widened.
"How is Faithful?"
Bras staggered back two steps at Victor's questions.
He stared at the teasing smile that had never left the young man's lips.
Then the face before him slowly merged with the teenager from his memories.
Realization struck.
Bras hurried forward and seized both of Victor's hands.
"Ah! It really is you, Master Victor! It's been years!"
Victor knew perfectly well why the merchant had suddenly become so enthusiastic.
He leaned closer to Bras's ear.
"Relax. There are too many people here, so I'm not going to expose you in public. But you'll show me an appropriate amount of respect later, and we'll also renegotiate your license.
"After all, I am Master Victor."
He placed particular emphasis on the word "Master."
They were both old hands at this game. There was no point pretending innocence with one another.
After a brief discussion, Bras of Ban Ard departed, while Victor agreed to visit him later.
With the show over, the reluctant spectators gradually dispersed as well.
Victor then folded his arms, leaned against Felicia's stall sign, and stared at her with a thoroughly mischievous smile.
"Well then, young lady. Explain something to me. Why did you repay my kindness by reverse-engineering my formula?
"And haven't you graduated yet? I thought your business in Vergen was already more than enough."
Felicia's cheeks flushed bright red.
She clasped both hands behind her back and shuffled closer to Victor.
"I'm... I'm sorry," she said.
The toe of her red shoe gently nudged his shin.
"And thank you for helping me. I successfully passed my Potions and Superstitions practicum, so Mistress Philippa allowed me to move on to the next stage of my training.
"She noticed how well my virility potions were selling and told me to reverse-engineer yours and produce something similar.
"And after I finally managed to make it... well, I needed money... and there's really no such thing as having too much money, so..."
Felicia lowered her head.
"I'm very sorry."
First impressions really were important.
If the person standing before him had been some male mage, Victor would definitely have been irritated.
But Felicia was such a lively, girlish young woman that the alchemist was willing to forgive her little weakness for money.
"It's fine. If it was an assignment from your mentor, I can understand. By the way, when did you arrive here?"
The instant Victor forgave her, the apprentice sorceress became cheerful again.
"About a week ago, on the morning the fighting began in Vergen. Mistress Eilhart opened a portal and sent us to Loc Muinne ahead of her. Cynthia and Lady Síle came with us too.
"I actually wanted to stay behind and help, but my mentor said..."
Felicia cheerfully explained what had happened that morning.
Without realizing it, her account confirmed Victor's suspicions.
Philippa and Síle really were working together.
"There's something I'd like to ask Philippa about," the witcher said with a smile. "Do you know where she's staying? Or are you living with them now? And have you seen Saskia recently?"
"Uh, no, I'm not living with them. You don't know about this? Cynthia is Mistress Eilhart's lover."
Felicia gave him a meaningful look.
"Cynthia even hinted that I'd be welcome to join them, but I'm really not interested in that sort of arrangement.
"As for Lady Saskia, she's staying near them. I saw her several days ago, but she hasn't appeared at all during the past two days..."
Having obtained a valuable address from the hairdresser, Victor casually bought some alchemical ingredients from her stall.
He was just about to wave goodbye when Felicia caught the corner of his coat.
She lowered her head and spoke softly.
"Um... Vic. Thank you for today. If you hadn't appeared when you did, I would've been completely humiliated."
The alchemist smiled and waved dismissively, indicating that she didn't need to worry about it.
But Felicia still didn't release his coat.
She drew a deep breath.
"Ahem... there's actually something else I wanted to tell you..."
She gathered her courage.
"I'm living alone right now, and the house is pretty big. You're welcome to come over tonight and spend some time with me. And if you get tired, you can just stay the night. I wouldn't mind at all!"
The girl's meaning couldn't have been clearer.
And Victor was a polite man.
He blinked.
Then he accepted the second valuable address Felicia offered him, gave her a gentle, gentlemanly embrace, and departed with effortless composure.
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