The moment she stepped inside, Triss noticed that the smithy was extremely well equipped, and that some of the tools were very precise. Even someone like her, who knew nothing about forging, could tell that quite a few of the weapons there were genuinely fine blades.
But once she entered the alchemy workshop, she was even more astonished. One whole wall was lined with books, the equipment and instruments were professional and high-end, no less impressive than her own laboratory. The one unusual feature was the great cauldron in the middle of the room, much larger than normal.
Then she saw the woman smith crouch down by a cabinet and open the bottom compartment.
"My name is Yoana. Triss, may I call you that?"
"Of course you can, Yoana. It's a pleasure to meet you." The sorceress had no idea what Yoana was doing, but since she was a master smith and one of Victor's companions, Triss was happy to show her more approachable side.
Then Triss watched, wide-eyed and completely baffled, as Yoana cheerfully pulled out two full money pouches and walked over to place them into her hands with both of hers.
Yoana explained, "Victor and Angoulême aren't here. They snuck back a few days ago, then the manager said they were afraid Babu might catch them, Babu's one of our enforcers here, very strong with a sword, and there are still quite a few troublesome matters tied to him around here. So after dropping off the tools, they slipped away again."
The sorceress nodded to show she understood, then gave the pouches in her hands a little shake. "And this means...?"
The woman smith smiled. "Vic gave instructions. He said he didn't know when, but if Lady Triss ever came to the smithy looking for him one day, don't ask questions, just give her five hundred crowns first."
"...Do you think I would need money?"
She was dressed in luxurious silk and wore a silver sapphire amulet.
"I don't think you need it, no. But that's what Vic said. And if you don't know what the captain's thinking, that's perfectly normal. I wasn't used to it at first either. You know what people east of Zerrikania are like, their sense of humor is very unusual. Maybe he just thought this would be funny... For instance, last time he commissioned one giant slab of iron, but insisted on calling it a Dragon-Slaying Sword..."
Apparently brushing against a painful memory, Yoana started rambling on about how much material Victor had wasted and how he had forced Hattori and her to forge piles of scrap metal.
Triss found it rather amusing. To her, five hundred crowns meant almost nothing. She was a woman who owned a house beside Hierarch Square.
Casually, she tucked the two money bags back into Yoana's hands and patted the back of them. "I don't need the money. Victor was probably joking. Since he isn't here, I'll leave him a letter."
"Of course!" Though it had been only a short time, this gentle, beautiful, noble, and friendly woman had already completely won Yoana's heart.
Not long afterward, Triss opened another portal and left Novigrad. Her time was precious, after all, and she also wanted to get there sooner. Since she had failed to find Victor, all she could say was that fate had caused them to miss each other.
...
And while Triss was writing her letter, Victor and Angoulême, the intended recipients, were in Oxenfurt southeast of Novigrad, visiting the great and storied Oxenfurt Academy.
The order of cause and effect could not be reversed. First came the Academy, only afterward the city.
This academy was the finest institution of higher learning in the North. One could think of it as the highest seat of learning in the witcher world. Its chief academic rival was Nilfgaard's Imperial Academy.
As for Ban Ard and Aretuza, though they also taught other disciplines, their main focus was still the training of mages.
Oxenfurt Academy had many famous alumni. Even an outsider like Victor knew two of them, Shani and Dandelion. Shani belonged to the Faculty of Medicine and Herbology, while Dandelion had studied the seven liberal arts.
Though it was a medieval school, it had already begun to show the outline of a modern university. In the fresh air stood beautiful buildings, neatly trimmed lawns, and lively students strolling beneath the trees with books in hand.
The current rector, Joannis Deckerman, was personally guiding the Phantom Troupe through the academy. He did not normally handle such work, but Victor had simply offered too much money.
Right at the entrance, he signed a check and donated a thousand crowns to the Faculty of Medicine and Herbology. A young man so devoted to learning was worth the rector personally stepping in to show around the academy, and perhaps point out a few places that might benefit from further sponsorship.
Strolling at leisure, they came to a bronze statue in one of the campus flower gardens, and Joannis spoke with solemn respect. "Young sir and lady, allow me to introduce Nicodemus de Boot, the first rector of Oxenfurt, mentor of the Department of Philosophy, and author of Meditations on Life, Happiness, and Prosperity."
The boy nodded politely. "Rector Joannis, just call me Victor. She's Angoulême. As for Nicodemus...
'Narrow-mindedness and superstition have always been common follies among the masses. As far as I can judge, these follies will never be fully eradicated, because they endure forever, just as stupidity itself endures forever.
The mountains of today may one day become seas, and the seas of today may one day become deserts. But stupidity remains stupidity.'"
"Mar, marvelous! Extraordinary, truly extraordinary. I never imagined that Master Victor was also a philosopher. Yes, that passage, together with another, is among the most famous lines in Nicodemus's writings." Joannis applauded enthusiastically.
Victor smiled with restrained modesty. "Before becoming a bard, I was first a philosopher. On a side note, perhaps the academy might be willing to accept one more small donation to polish and preserve this statue with some coconut oil?"
"My most heartfelt thanks for your support of education." The rector clasped his hands together.
Unexpectedly, someone nearby cut in. "I don't see how spending a few hundred crowns polishing a bronze statue will help education in the slightest." He looked about fifty, with graying hair and sharp eyes.
Seeing who had arrived, Joannis showed a helpless smile and introduced them. "Master Victor, this is Master Joachim von Gratz, dean of the Faculty of Medicine and Herbology. Joachim, I'm delighted to inform you that this gentleman has just donated one thousand crowns to your faculty!"
When he mentioned the thousand crowns, he put a little extra weight on the words, hoping that this stubborn and formidable old gentleman might, for the sake of Radovid V's face on the coins, speak a bit more politely.
The old man looked the boy up and down. Victor was dressed properly today, not extravagantly, but well enough that any guard trying to stop him would instinctively speak with courtesy. The woman accompanying him was dressed to the same standard, plainly not a servant but a friend or companion.
Dean Joachim asked, "Victor Corion, Dragonborn Bard from east of Zerrikania, you are the outsider who brought the stethoscope?"
"It has been a while since anyone called me that, but yes, I'm Victor of Bell Town." The boy answered easily.
Once he confirmed the four faint lines on Victor's face, Joachim immediately dropped his earlier arrogance and stepped forward to clasp both of Victor's hands. "I truly thank you. What you have done for medicine may fairly be called immortal."
The dean's abrupt shift from haughty to respectful startled Rector Joannis. As far as he knew, old Joachim was usually prickly and hard as stone, relying on his medical skill to justify a foul temper. He had never expected him to be so courteous toward such a young man.
But that was only because Joannis did not belong to the medical faculty and did not understand the epoch-making importance the stethoscope held for physicians. Otherwise he would not have found it strange.
Since the other man was showing respect, Victor responded with modesty as well. "No, I only did a little insignificant work. It was Doctor Shani who reminded me, and that made me think of the invention back home. She returned to the academy earlier to promote the stethoscope. Is she not on campus now?"
"Unfortunately, you have just missed her. She headed south to Vizima again not long ago with a medical team. There are signs the plague there may be flaring up again."
"The Catriona plague!?"
"Yes, the most troublesome and terrifying Catriona plague in history."
Victor shook his head helplessly. He had returned to the Continent from Skellige with no urgent business to deal with, and had thought he might come and see how Shani was doing. He had not expected that she would already be gone again, rushing back to the front lines of medicine. At that thought, his spirits noticeably fell.
After exchanging a few polite perfunctory words and taking his leave of Dean Joachim, Joannis could clearly feel that Victor's interest in the tour had plunged straight to the bottom the moment he learned Doctor Shani was not there.
After thinking it over, the rector suddenly said, "Would Master Victor have any interest in becoming a professor?"
"I... become a professor? Don't joke. What could I possibly teach anyone?" Though that was what the boy said with his mouth, the upward twitch of his lips betrayed his true feelings in an instant.
Angoulême laughed too. "A professor who isn't even eighteen yet? Isn't that a bit too young? I bet a lot of the students are older than Vic."
"Miss Angoulême, that is not the right way to see it. In learning there is no first or last, the accomplished are the teachers. A great poet like Master Victor is unquestionably qualified to serve as a visiting professor in the Faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry."
At those words from Joannis, Victor's heart immediately stirred. Just imagining adding the title of university professor to his long chain of honors instantly gave him a far more literary air, the feeling of a man of culture.
And after arriving at Oxenfurt Academy, the free air and open environment had made him feel as if he had returned to his own schooldays, forgetting the darkness of the outside world. This was still a place capable of sheltering ideals and light.
"In that case, Rector, I would be delighted to accept your invitation. Poetry is indeed also a form of cultural and artistic inheritance, and I would be glad to share with the students the elegance of the East.
"However, not having a diploma still feels a little awkward. If possible, I would like to arrange a certificate for both myself and Angoulême. The subject does not matter. We simply hope to have an academic credential. We have always admired university graduates. Here are another thousand crowns, to compensate for any inconvenience this causes administratively."
At the sound of yet another thousand crowns, Joannis's smile grew even warmer, shining like bright midsummer sunshine. "No problem at all. Since the field does not matter, then I believe a degree from the Department of Philosophy would unquestionably suit you both best."
Hearing that she could receive a university diploma too, the girl became excited as well and could not help blurting out, "Vic, Vic, can you tell me what people do after graduating from philosophy?"
The most frightening thing in the world was the sudden silence in the air.
Blinking, Victor noticed the faint awkwardness on Joannis's face and realized that he himself could not answer the question either. So he patted Angoulême on the arm. "That's not the important part. We don't need to worry about employment. I'll explain it to you later!"
That very evening, the Department of Philosophy at Oxenfurt gained two new graduates. Their academic records were both excellent, and both made outstanding contributions to philosophical thought. As those contributions were rather philosophical in nature, there is no need to waste space describing them here.
Then on the following day, Professor Victor, from Bell Town east of Zerrikania, shared with the students in a poetry appreciation class a newly completed composition inspired by his experiences in the isles. It did not yet have lyrics, and its title was Black Pearl, He's a Pirate.
With Assistant Angoulême beating the drum beside him, the performance ended. The dean of the Faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry immediately declared himself willing to step down and yield the position, though sadly Professor Victor had no such ambition.
...
A few days later, the Phantom Troupe took a ship up the Pontar, heading for Castle La Valette to visit an old friend who had once shared hardship with them, the young nobleman Aryan La Valette.
...
Now let us turn the clock back a few days, to Kaedwen, deep in the Blue Mountains, at Kaer Morhen.
When Triss Merigold stepped out of the portal, she could scarcely believe her eyes. Were it not for her absolute confidence in her magical skill, she would have thought she had opened the portal to the wrong place.
The sorceress's portal had opened inside the room where she had once stayed. She would never forget that winter when, at Geralt's request, she came to Kaer Morhen to teach Ciri how to control her powers. She had lived there for the whole season, in that bleak, crumbling keep, that place where the wind seemed to blow through every wall. Yet now it had somehow been furnished rather nicely.
The wooden furniture in the room was finely made. There were no marks of any famous craftsman, so the price was probably not high, but it balanced practicality and comfort.
Clearly, she had brought too much luggage on this trip. At the very least, the chair she had brought with her looked nowhere near as good as the one already in the room.
When she pushed open the door, she could faintly hear voices downstairs in the main hall. She recognized Vesemir's kindly warmth, Eskel's steady gentleness, Lambert's sharp sarcasm, and one unfamiliar younger voice.
And naturally, the sound of the sorceress coming downstairs did not escape the four witchers below. All four looked up at Triss at once.
"Ah, my dear girl, thank heaven you've come at last. Come here, quickly." Vesemir waved for her to approach.
"Good afternoon, Merigold." Lambert stood with his arms folded.
Eskel smiled. With the scar across his face, his smile was still just as frightening as ever. "Long time no see, Triss."
"Hello, Lady Merigold. This is our first meeting, I'm Leo." The speaker was a young witcher apprentice. He had already made up his mind, but had not yet undergone the Trial of the Grasses.
For a moment the sorceress's mind went blank, and she could only nod absentmindedly in reply. She had fallen into that state because of the fifth person in the hall, the silent one who had not spoken at all.
The furniture in the hall had clearly been replaced as well. It was warm and comfortable now. The fifth man sat there looking lost and bewildered, able only to watch quietly.
She walked stiffly down the stairs, far removed from her usual graceful allure, and embraced Vesemir. "I came as quickly as I could after receiving your message. What is the situation now?"
Vesemir shook his head. "Just as you can see. Minor injuries to the body, but he has lost his memory."
Triss looked at the fifth man. The one before her was the witcher she knew best, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.
The sorceress swore that she had seen him die with her own eyes. And yet here he was, chest rising and falling faintly, his expression pale and unfamiliar.
"Can someone tell me what happened?" Her voice had gone a little hoarse.
It was Eskel who answered. "Six days ago, when I went out, I found Geralt lying by the road outside the keep. Whoever left him there clearly wanted him to be found, anyone leaving the castle would have noticed him."
"Eskel came back and called for help. Then Leo and I dragged out a handcart and brought him back," Lambert added.
Vesemir gave the conclusion. "And now, as you can see, Geralt has lost his memory. We have no idea what happened to him. We can deal with the wounds to his body, but the problem with his memory is beyond us, so we had no choice but to send for you."
She stared at that familiar face, those familiar cat eyes, yet the gaze looking back at her belonged to a stranger. A sudden pain stabbed through Triss's heart, but at the same time she felt a joy so sincere it was almost overwhelming.
No matter what... as long as he was alive, that was enough.
"Let me try," she said.
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