Ves, the Blue Stripes' second-in-command, crouched on a high point among the southern ruins, watching the Kaedweni camp from afar.
"I had a feeling we'd see each other again soon, but even I didn't expect you to show up this quickly." Lowering the spyglass, Ves greeted Victor with her usual easy confidence.
Her blond hair glittered beneath the setting sun. As usual, every button on her leather jerkin was undone, revealing a smooth, pale curve that made it very easy for the witcher to remember their intense bout ten days earlier.
"I didn't expect the war to end after only one day either. That reckless Henselt charged straight into the trap. Even if we'd wanted to drag the fighting out for a few more days, we couldn't."
"Whatever the case, congratulations on your victory. At least you sent that damned bandit running back to Ard Carraigh."
"It's not over yet!" Vernon Roche interrupted their reunion. "If we don't get Anaïs out tonight, that carrion-eating fat pig will divide Temeria with Radovid."
"And Ves, button up your damned clothes! Your navel's showing. Have you no shame? Nobody here wants to see your tits!"
"Oh, please! You can't even see anything like this..."
Despite what she said, the Blue Stripes officer laughingly buttoned herself up, then beckoned to the witcher.
"Vic, ignore him. Come here and I'll explain the latest situation."
Women who chose the life of a soldier generally possessed exceptional qualities, and Ves was no exception. Surely the wise and handsome readers would not be misled by certain descriptions into thinking she was merely a pretty ornament.
She had not become second-in-command of the Blue Stripes because of her feminine charms, but because of her combat skill, unshakable will, and the ruthlessness she could display when necessary.
Her swordsmanship was on par with Angoulême's, and she was also an excellent crossbowwoman. Anyone who underestimated Ves would pay dearly for misjudging the abilities of this young woman.
She handed the spyglass to Victor, then wrapped her arms around him from behind to adjust his position and guide his gaze.
"Look... the Kaedweni army was the last to arrive, so the area they were assigned isn't very good. Over here... part of the camp extends into the collapsed ruins. If you enter through the tunnels, security should be somewhat looser.
"I've been watching since this morning, and I haven't seen that pervert Dethmold anywhere. But every two hours, a mage still comes out to make the rounds. Probably one of his apprentices...
"...Most of the troops on the perimeter are light infantry, while the most dangerous heavily armored guards are concentrated... here. We believe Anaïs is being held somewhere in this area. Once you get her out, the Blue Stripes will meet you here."
After explaining each important location in detail, Ves released Victor and clasped her hands before her chest.
"I don't really understand all those complicated political problems, but I've heard Anaïs is still just a little girl. She shouldn't fall into the hands of people with ulterior motives. I'm counting on you!"
Hearing the earnest hope in her words, Victor narrowed his eyes and ruffled Ves's hair.
"I swear by the name of Dovahkiin, I will rescue Anaïs."
With that, he started walking away, only to discover that Roche was silently following him.
"Why are you following me? I don't need help. Moving alone is easier and far more discreet."
Roche's stubbled face was solemn as he shook his head.
"Sorry, Vic. I have to go with you."
There was something rather subtle about that apology.
Victor blinked.
"Seriously? My dear King's Hand, don't tell me you don't trust me?"
After a brief hesitation, the commander of the Blue Stripes did not deny it.
"You're right. I don't trust you enough to leave everything in your hands. I remember that you received this intelligence from Radovid, and I assume he also asked you to rescue Anaïs."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"You think I'm going to hand the little girl over to Radovid?"
"I can't take that risk. You're the sort of man who's good at adapting to circumstances, and you're accustomed to putting your own judgment above everything else in the world. If you decide that giving Anaïs to Radovid is the better choice, you'll do it without hesitation."
Faced with Roche's incisive analysis, Victor, who had once switched over to Iorveth's side without so much as a warning, rubbed his nose.
He really didn't have much ground to argue from.
With a helpless sigh, he pulled out several vials of potion and handed them to Roche.
"If you're coming, drink these. They'll improve your stamina, reaction speed, strength, and adrenaline production."
The Blue Stripes commander accepted the potions, uncorked them, and immediately began drinking. One bottle after another went down without the slightest hesitation.
"You just said you don't trust me, yet you're willing to drink my potions?"
"I trust you not to murder a friend that way."
"After that whole declaration about not trusting me, don't you think calling me a friend sounds a little ironic?"
"It's precisely because you're my friend that I don't trust your political loyalties! You would never sell me out for money, but when our principles clash, you never compromise on your damned stubbornness!"
Victor had not expected Roche to see through him quite so thoroughly.
As expected, very few people who made a living gathering intelligence were fools.
This time, however, Roche really was overthinking things.
Apart from basic humanitarian reasons, Victor's main reason for joining the rescue was Keira Metz's request.
"I'm not quite as stubborn as you think. Not yet, anyway. There are still some people I simply can't refuse."
Once Roche finished the potions, the two departed side by side.
Watching their backs disappear into the distance, Ves clasped her hands and silently prayed for the operation to succeed.
...
The Kaedweni camp lay south of Loc Muinne. At the entrance to the tunnel adjoining the ruins, a sturdy iron gate blocked the way.
Naturally, the Kaedweni soldiers stationed there, dressed in brown-and-yellow uniforms, were fairly relaxed.
A short distance beyond the gate, the witcher and the Blue Stripes commander remained hidden in the darkness, observing them.
"Let's begin. I'm going to seize this opportunity to kill Dethmold with my own hands!" Roche said viciously.
Victor couldn't help himself.
"Seriously, Roche? You insisted on coming with me, yet you didn't even come up with a plan?"
"Actually, I did. First we kill Dethmold, then we rescue the princess, and afterward we celebrate with a late-night barbecue."
"That's an outline, not a plan... Say something useful, or we're doing this my way."
"Useful? I came here seeking my redemption, peace of mind.
"The Blue Stripes aren't merely a military unit. I personally selected and trained every member. We've been through everything together. But Dethmold got them killed, so I'm going to kill him!"
Roche was currently plotting revenge against a dead man, but having a target for his hatred was not necessarily a bad thing, and Victor had no intention of revealing the truth just yet.
"I thought you cared more about your king and his children. Don't forget the purpose of this mission."
"I haven't forgotten! Once Anaïs is safe, if Letho and Síle are still in Loc Muinne, neither of them is leaving alive."
What a pain in the ass.
Sometimes Roche was so perceptive it became irritating, yet whenever his blood was up, he behaved like a complete idiot.
Victor couldn't be bothered arguing further.
After all, there were two kinds of perfect infiltration.
He quietly approached the gate, and the conversation between the Kaedweni soldiers reached his ears clearly.
The bushy-bearded Kaedweni said, "Hey... don't you think what the king's doing is a bit much? That Temerian girl is only ten years old, and he wants to make her his queen? Besides, I really don't think we should be working with the Black Ones. They're cruel and brutal!"
The goateed Kaedweni frowned.
"Damn it, if you're saying things like that, you must have read Henselt the Whore! I'm warning you, if you don't want Amiba cutting off your balls and stuffing them into your mouth, watch your tongue!"
"Hiss... Please don't tell anyone. That bastard Amiba scares me even more than Dethmold. At least Dethmold doesn't leave people unable to walk afterward.
"But I really do think those banned pamphlets make a good point. What the king's doing just isn't right."
"You can keep your precious sense of right and wrong... as long as you understand that Viziman Champion will be half price afterward, and everything from Temeria will become much cheaper. Apparently they call it some kind of Northern Common Market..."
The guards' conversation abruptly stopped.
Two men were approaching openly from the darkness.
The goateed soldier signaled to his companion.
"Halt! What are you doing here?"
"We have important business with Amiba."
Victor stopped just beyond the torchlight, positioning himself so both soldiers could clearly see his eyes.
The bushy-bearded Kaedweni asked, "Who are you?"
Victor curled his ring finger at his side and silently cast the Axii Sign, smiling all the while.
"I'm your grandpa! What, my dear grandsons don't recognize me anymore?"
His blue Rinnegan spun, light shining from his pupils and reflecting into the guards' eyes.
Both Kaedweni soldiers immediately fell into a daze.
"G-Grandpa... is it really you? Waaaah! I've missed you so much!" The goateed soldier suddenly burst into tears, pulled out a key, and unlocked the iron gate.
Pushing the gate open, the bushy-bearded soldier hurried forward with an astonished expression.
"Grandpa, what are you doing all the way out here on the front lines?"
Victor shook his head toward Roche, whom the hypnotized soldiers were completely ignoring.
Then each man knocked out one guard and dragged them into the shadows.
"It would've been faster to just kill them."
"Personal principle. If killing isn't necessary, I avoid it. Besides, killing them would leave blood behind."
They passed through a torchlit tunnel where light and shadow alternated across the stone walls, eventually reaching an area of the camp with heavy patrol activity.
Crossbowmen stood watch atop the high walls.
This was a regular army, after all. Patrols, hidden sentries, closely spaced bonfires, every standard nighttime precaution was in place.
The square ahead was particularly well guarded.
Victor judged that if he were alone, he might still be able to circle around or slip through unseen, but with Roche accompanying him, avoiding everyone was essentially impossible.
Fortunately, he had planned ahead.
The brown-and-yellow Kaedweni uniforms they were wearing performed admirably as disguises, allowing the two men to stroll openly past the edge of the square.
Roche lowered his voice.
"That's brilliant. How did you think of stripping the guards and using their uniforms to infiltrate the camp...?"
"Because normally you can't ambush someone without injuring them, so naturally it would never occur to you," Victor replied casually.
And so, completely unhindered, the two newly minted Kaedweni soldiers successfully approached the area where Anaïs was believed to be held.
Unexpectedly, there were no guards outside.
Roche was about to descend into the basement when Victor raised a hand to stop him.
"Wait. There's a soundproof alarm ward ahead. The moment you step inside, the mage will know. I've had quite a bit of experience with these things. Give me a few minutes to break it."
Roche stared at the young man as though he'd said something absurd.
He had never heard of a witcher being able to break a mage's ward.
Today, however, he was destined to have his horizons broadened.
Ever since the day Victor accidentally barged into Philippa's room, he had devoted himself to researching how to pass through alarm wards without triggering them.
That research had finally borne fruit at the Nilfgaardian camp beside the Pontar, allowing him to successfully eavesdrop on Ambassador Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen and the mage Vanhemar.
Until a guard happened to stumble across him, nobody had even considered the possibility that the alarm ward itself might have been bypassed.
Under normal circumstances, only a mage substantially more skilled than Vanhemar should have been capable of such a feat.
People shackled by common sense were inevitably shortsighted.
They failed to understand that one person could not always be measured by the standards of another.
Once, in a moment of extreme fury, Victor had slid beneath an ice spike and spun aside from a fireball.
Compared with that, breaking a ward that was nearly sixty percent similar to the Yrden Sign naturally posed little difficulty to the "griffin that flew from the wolves' den."
Victor drew a deep breath and gently pressed his palm against the ward, feeling the paths along which the magic flowed.
With the aid of his exceptional Magic Sense, he spent several minutes studying it before murmuring softly,
"Yrden."
The ripples of the Sign's barrier spread outward and perfectly overlapped with the alarm ward, canceling it out.
Victor gestured for Roche to pass through first, then slipped across himself.
...
They descended the stairs into the basement.
It was a vast chamber supported by four enormously thick pillars.
Vernon Roche, walking in front, immediately spotted Anaïs La Valette under house arrest.
She looked lost and helpless, but stubbornly refused to cry.
His fists clenched with emotion.
Roche rushed forward several steps, only to slam directly into a pale violet, translucent wall formed from magic.
Thinking Victor should be able to break it, Roche hurriedly turned to find the witcher.
Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a mage holding a staff.
Amiba stepped from the adjoining room with an unsettling smile.
"Heh heh heh... Strong and deliciously manly. Oh, I bet you'll be fun to play with!"
Realizing something was wrong, Roche immediately drew his sword and charged.
But Amiba raised his staff.
Its tip flashed with light, instantly binding Roche's entire body.
"Heh heh... You're definitely not Kaedweni. Otherwise, there's no way I would've overlooked such thick stubble and such a handsome face.
"And judging by how you came looking for this little girl... Temerian? Blue Stripes? Don't tell me you're Vernon Roche! Now that's a precious little toy!"
Still smiling, the mage approached his prey step by step, preparing to torment and toy with him further.
Then Amiba suddenly froze.
"Wait... There's no way you could've passed through the ward without being detected!"
Realizing there was someone else in the basement, Amiba hurriedly turned around.
But it was already too late.
A sudden explosion of agony turned his mind completely blank.
Kidney Pierce.
The same injury suffered by his master, Dethmold.
The choice of target was deliberate. Pain that intense made it impossible for a mage to concentrate enough to cast spells, completely ending any chance of resistance.
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