Triss interrupted him, waving her hand to cast a cleansing spell, quickly tidying up the scene.
Triss's leniency made Geralt even more embarrassed; he could only nod silently, and his subsequent actions became even more cautious.
After everything was prepared, Karl and Geralt secretly met with Foltest.
Hearing that they were about to act, Foltest abruptly stood up from his seat, his face a mix of excitement, anticipation, and deep worry.
"So soon? Do you... have confidence?"
What he feared most was to hear news of failure again, which would completely shatter his last hope.
"We will do our best, Your Majesty," Karl replied calmly.
Foltest took a deep breath, his gaze first turning to Geralt, his tone businesslike: "Witcher, if you can solve this trouble, the Temerian royal family will pay you... five hundred oren."
This reward was quite generous for a Witcher, but compared to his promise to Karl, it was a world apart.
Then, he looked at Karl, his tone clearly becoming concerned, even urgent: "Karl, do I need to send another squad... no, five of our most elite knights to assist you?"
"They can provide support from the periphery, at least ensuring your safety!"
His concern was clear; he valued Karl, this future potential asset, and absolutely could not allow him to be harmed here.
As for the safety of Geralt, the Witcher, he had never cared.
Just five knights... to protect him? If he and Geralt couldn't handle the Vampire Bird, those five knights would just be cannon fodder.
Karl decisively shook his head, declining Foltest's kind offer: "Thank you, Your Majesty. But too many people might cause unnecessary casualties, or even provoke the target. Lambert and I are enough."
What he needed was flexibility and precise strikes, not a group of ordinary people who might hinder him or even become a burden.
Seeing Karl's firm attitude, Foltest no longer insisted.
He only cautioned them a few more times to be careful, then let them leave, preoccupied with his thoughts... Night gradually fell, and Karl, Geralt, and Triss were in the laboratory, making their final preparations.
The light of Alzur's Shield flashed over Karl and Geralt in turn.
Finally, Triss carefully left a complex magical mark on the inside of Karl's collar, then helped him put on his plate armor.
The magic crystal ball had been placed in the center, reflecting a blurry image of the old palace area.
The night enveloped the dilapidated Old Vizima Palace in an ominous silence.
When Karl and Geralt arrived at the outer Guard post, they discovered an unexpected figure.
Foltest was pacing anxiously by the campfire, his magnificent fur cloak out of place with the dilapidated surroundings.
As soon as he saw the two, he quickly walked up to them, his face filled with anticipation and unconcealed anxiety.
"You're finally here! Karl, you must be careful!"
His voice was hoarse from tension, and his gaze was first firmly fixed on Karl.
"Listen, if you get injured, don't be brave! Retreat immediately, saving your life is the most important thing."
"Adda's matter... we can find another way!" He gripped Karl's shoulder tightly, his words earnest.
Then, as if he had just noticed Geralt, he turned to the Witcher.
His tone instantly became businesslike, even with a hint of detachment: "Witcher, do what you are supposed to do, the royal family will not mistreat those who render meritorious service."
That attitude, as if giving orders to a tool, formed a stark contrast to his earnest admonitions to Karl.
Geralt was expressionless, merely nodding slightly, long accustomed to this.
Foltest took one last deep look at the dark entrance of the palace, as if wanting to penetrate through all obstacles to see his daughter inside.
He sighed and waved his hand: "Go... may the goddess Melitele bless you... and my Adda."
Karl and Geralt said no more, turning to step into the ruins that devoured the light.
As soon as the two entered the palace, the familiar stench of decay and blood assailed them, even more intense than during the day.
In the darkness, invisible eyes seemed to be watching them.
Geralt immediately took out two alchemical potions from the leather pouch on his waist.
One was Thunderbolt, to enhance strength, and the other was Blizzard, to improve reaction speed.
He tilted his head back and drank them without hesitation; the alchemical potions quickly took effect.
The veins on his face slightly bulged, dense black lines covered his face, and his pupils contracted even more sharply in the darkness.
Geralt adjusted to the effects of the potions, and the enhanced senses and surge of power they brought, then turned to look at Karl.
"Now, shall we proceed as the rumors say, to lift the curse...?" Karl gripped his sword hilt, asking in a low voice.
It was important to remember that what Foltest ultimately wanted was his daughter, not the corpse of a monster.
Geralt nodded, his voice even deeper and hoarser under the potion's effect: "Yes. Legend says... these monsters born of curses usually have an anchor point or nest they must return to."
"For Adda, it's very likely her burial sarcophagus; we need to drive her away from there."
"Then... one person occupies that spot and stays there safely all night until dawn."
"The cycle of the curse is broken, and she might then regain human form."
Karl immediately grasped the key point: "Driving her away might not be difficult, but how do we stay safely in that spot all night under her frenzied attacks?"
"...That's the most difficult part, but there will be a way."
Geralt admitted frankly, his cat-like eyes scanning the darkness ahead.
But his tone didn't sound as confident as he claimed.
A Witcher's life was full of uncertainties; often, they could only rely on improvisation and a little bit of luck... Meanwhile, in the laboratory in the temple district.
Triss was intently gazing at the magic crystal ball placed on the table.
The ball clearly showed images of Karl and Geralt moving through the dim palace, and even their whispered conversations could be vaguely heard.
Her hands were tightly clasped, knuckles white from the effort, her heart filled with worry.
She could only keep telling herself to remain calm and be ready to activate that life-saving teleportation spell at any moment.
Inside the palace, the two moved forward with the aid of faint moonlight, Geralt occasionally correcting their path using his Witcher senses.
Soon, in a relatively intact side hall in the deepest part of the palace, they found their target.
A massive sarcophagus made of marble, its lid not fully closed, resting askew on top.
Geralt cautiously approached, gently pushing open a corner of the lid with his hand.
But it was surprisingly clean inside, with no bones or decaying matter as expected.
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