After crossing the Yaruga and the Riverdell Valley, the Phantom Troupe overcame the obstacle of the Nevi River. The next day, their life in the wilderness came to an end when they reached Riedbrune.
From there southward, the road would pass through densely populated areas. Once they passed Belhaven, where the Nevi Valley and the Sansretour Valley met, the two of them would reach the destination of this journey, the Duchy of Toussaint ruled by Duchess Anna Henrietta.
But an unexpected obstacle suddenly surfaced from the past, obstructing their smooth journey.
In a sealed room without windows, the hardwood chairs the Phantom Troupe sat on were firmly nailed to the floor. Their original purpose was clearly to interrogate prisoners. The brackets and straps on the chair backs could bind the hands and tighten around the neck, making it convenient to use all kinds of torture instruments, such as tools for gouging eyes, ripping out tongues, and branding irons.
Of course, they had not yet come into use, but they could at any moment.
"…Let me put it this way! Witcher, I wish to hire you!" said Fulko Artevelde, the prefect of Riedbrune. Under Victor's sustained silence, he appeared increasingly impatient. "I am willing to pay you in gold coins, a full bag of florins, enough for you to spend the next half month stuffing your belly with white bread dipped in honey at every meal, as long as you deal with that damned monster in the quarry for me!"
Wearing a leather eye patch over his left eye, his face covered in scars, the prefect and regional chief magistrate, Fulko, was a black-haired man with broad shoulders and a wide frame, shaped like a cyclops. "Do not test my patience. When it runs out, I will have no choice but to hire you by other means, and you will not like that!
"I must also remind you of one thing, witcher. Although I do not know the reason, your apprentice looks at me with fear, guilt, and anger in her eyes. Any one of those alone would not be a problem, but people who possess all of those emotions at once are usually… criminals.
"I can pretend I did not see it. Before you leave, and even after you leave, I can continue not knowing, as long as you serve me!"
…
Riedbrune was a town located at a bend in the Nevi River. According to the girl's earlier description, the town proper, made up of brick, tile, and wooden buildings, was actually very small. The residents in the central area accounted for only one-tenth of the whole town, while the remaining nine-tenths were scattered outside the town in small cottages, huts, stalls, sheds, tents, and wagons. It was chaotic, filthy, and filled everywhere with the stench of excrement.
However, having expected to enter a pigsty, what Victor actually saw exceeded expectations. The town proper had all been replaced with stone buildings. Although many farmers' wagons heading north to open wasteland still surrounded the outside of the fortress palisade, at least it looked fairly regulated, and the smell was not as exaggerated as she had claimed.
Counting from when Angoulême left, such drastic changes within just a few short years could not be separated from the iron-fisted rule of Riedbrune's prefect and regional chief magistrate, Mr. Fulko Artevelde.
This was a harsh official, a harsh official who used any means necessary in both law enforcement and governance.
After being brought before him and communicating for a few minutes, Victor retained the leading phrase "uses any means necessary," while the suffix "harsh official" came from what he had heard at the tavern and Angoulême's experience back then.
Several years ago, Angoulême had once been "active" in the surrounding region, as an "outlaw," while Chief Magistrate Fulko wanted to deal with the local bandit gang, the Nightingale gang.
He had caught Angoulême after she broke away from the gang and told her plainly that her eyes would be gouged out with red-hot iron tongs, her breasts torn apart, and that she would finally be impaled on a stake and left to bleed to death, unless she could provide information to capture the other members of the Nightingale gang. Only then would she be granted the mercy of a quick death on the gallows.
It was under those circumstances that Geralt met the girl. Seeing her, he thought of Ciri, who was around the same age, and the White Wolf's fatherly instincts erupted. He agreed to cooperate with Fulko to eliminate the Nightingale gang, on the condition that Angoulême's life be ransomed.
Three years had passed just like that. Being brought to this familiar torture chamber again and seeing Prefect Fulko Artevelde, those vivid memories from back then surfaced. Even though the girl had been through many storms, it was still difficult for her to hide her emotions.
As for the reason the troupe had been brought here, it had nothing to do with past grudges. It was purely because the ruler once again needed a witcher's service, and Victor's brilliant blue Sharingan was obvious at a glance.
…
"How have you considered it? For me… no… fulfill your duty, witcher, and fight for the common folk of Riedbrune who have encountered hardship?
"There are only two possible answers. One is to kill the monster, take my florins, and continue your journey. As for the other, I do not wish to introduce it yet." Touching the long scar on his forehead, the chief magistrate spoke slowly. That slowness carried the solemnity of an ultimatum.
The so-called final ultimatum, translated more plainly, meant, "Do not say I did not warn you."
Looking around at the twelve fully armed guards in the room, weighing the cost of flipping the table, Victor narrowed his eyes. He very much disliked the prefect's attitude in making a request, but due to the limitations of the age, this actually counted as polite, so he could choose not to haggle over it. The key lay in Angoulême's emotional fluctuation.
When he had previously heard this piece of her past, the girl had shown unhappiness. Since his troupe member hated this fellow, then as leader, he absolutely would not accept the other party's request. Forget a mere bag of florins, even if it were ten thousand bags!… Wait… make that ten bags. Victor felt that if it were ten thousand bags, there was still room for discussion. After all, that would be far too much money!
In short, at the Hairy Bear Inn, he had once told Dandelion that he wanted to preserve the right to say "No!" Before leaving Skellige, his conversation with Ermion had further strengthened that thought.
I went through danger and honed my skills precisely so that no matter who I face, I can hold my head high and say "No." No one can make Victor Corion do something he doesn't want to do!
His mind made up, the witcher shrugged. "Respected Prefect, what you say is reasonable and fair. With generous payment and considerate words, I actually have no reason not to agree, but,"
"But you need to pay more!" a clear female voice cut off the youth's line.
Victor raised his eyebrows. Fulko pinched the bridge of his nose. Angoulême, however, stood upright and proper. "Prefect, this mission is quite difficult. We lack the necessary tools, so you need to pay more, and pay the full amount in advance!"
Chuckling softly, Fulko stared at the youth's special eyes. He had seen cat eyes, snake eyes, and even multicolored eyes before, but he truly had never seen Sharingan. "Witcher, can your apprentice speak on your behalf?"
Glancing sideways at Angoulême, Victor thought for a moment, then turned back to the front and smiled, showing his teeth. "Yes. What she says is what I mean."
"Two hundred florins! Half paid upfront." The prefect slightly raised his chin with restraint.
The witcher placed a hand over his chest in salute. "It is an honor to serve you."
According to the announcements of Vivaldi Bank in Novigrad, or Cianfanelli Bank in Beauclair, one florin was currently approximately equal to three crowns, and one crown was approximately equal to three orens. This task was worth nearly half a Princess Adda.
…
It must be known that money can make even ghosts turn millstones!
, excerpt from Little Words of Wisdom from the Sages
…
At night, the Phantom Troupe arrived at the place where the commission was to be carried out, the quarry district adjacent to the town. It was said that there was some swift and terrifying monster here that had turned the dark mine into its hunting ground.
Taking two bottles of potion from his herbal satchel, Victor handed one poisonous witcher-use bottle to himself and one non-toxic bottle to Angoulême. "Drink Cat first!"
Then Victor activated his supernatural five senses and observed the traces left behind by the monster. According to the survivors' testimony, it was known to be a creature that emitted terrifying screams. Now a new clue had joined the rest. It pulled out its victims' intestines and wrapped them around the tops of trees. That was a very cruel method. Then the witcher crouched and observed the monster footprints that only supernatural vision could see.
The shape of these footprints looks… like…
Beside him, after drinking the Cat potion, Angoulême held the hilt of her sword and kept watch. "Hey… Vic, aren't you going to ask why I interrupted earlier?"
Victor reached out and lightly touched the footprint, then brought his fingers to his nose and smelled them. "Since you want to talk about it… You should hate that prefect very much, right? Why did you interrupt my answer?"
"You're right. I still hate that bastard even now. But he had no aura at all. He doesn't remember me at all. Even when he used me as a breakthrough point to intimidate you, he had no blatant hostility toward me."
"Tsk, tsk. That's because he still doesn't know. Once he really finds out who you are, it'll be another matter. This also reminds us that Eagle Eye vision isn't omnipotent. There are many deranged villains in the world. By the time killing intent flashes through their hearts, their hands have already begun moving. Some can even twist their own minds and harm others without the slightest guilt!"
Yes! It should be a cockatrice…
"You don't need to tell me that. I noticed this flaw long ago.
"But what I truly wanted to say is that he has never actually cared about the criminals he punished. He simply does what he believes is right. And I was very surprised that, in just a few years, he managed to run Riedbrune into what it is now.
"So I thought of the Phantom Troupe's creed, 'acting chivalrously, upholding justice, punishing evil, and eliminating villains.' I also don't need to care about him. I only need to do what I believe is right. I don't regret my old hanse life. If I hadn't done many things that way, I would have died long ago. But now, if I have the ability…"
Victor chuckled softly. "Hey! Girl, don't be so serious. Relax. I have no objection. If you hadn't said anything, I wasn't even planning to ask.
"By the way, today's hunting target is a cockatrice."
After speaking, he stood and took out two bottles of Hybrid Oil, a mixture of dog fat and white myrtle petals, handing one to Angoulême.
Hearing the monster's name, Angoulême widened her eyes and sucked in a cold breath with a hiss. "It's actually that terrifying kind of monster. We really should have asked for more just now! A cockatrice is born from a shell-less egg laid by a seven-year-old rooster after being incubated by a toad for forty-four days."
"Wow, how magical. What other information do you know?"
She rubbed her philtrum with her finger. "You asked the right person. It hates all life. The moment it is born, it devours the one that hatched it. And its most dangerous weapon is its deadly gaze. Only the bravest adventurer can use a mirror to deflect its fatal stare and defeat a cockatrice!"
After listening to what the girl said, Victor also sucked in a cold breath. "Hiss! Truly terrifying. Damn it, tell me quickly, who told you that?"
"Animal Fables!" Thinking she was about to be praised, the troupe member answered confidently.
The cold leader issued a cold instruction. "Remember to find it and burn it when we get back. That damned book is full of nonsense! A cockatrice's gaze isn't more dangerous than that of an angry goose by the roadside.
"What you should beware of is its sharp beak and long hooked tail. Any unarmored part will have a big hole poked into it. With its agile speed, avoiding the monster's gaze is worse than hanging yourself with a rope!"
After being scolded head-on, Angoulême touched her nose, evenly coated her steel sword and crossbow bolts with Hybrid Oil, then opened her crossbow and followed Victor into the cave.
Leading the way ahead, Victor pointed his silver sword forward like a halberd, focusing his mind on defense. "Forget all those messy ravings. Intuitively speaking, it is nothing more than a monster with a rooster's head, a wyvern-like body, and a snake tail.
"Furthermore, judging from the footprints, this cockatrice clearly has not fully matured. A mature monster can easily reach the height of two people, with a wingspan close to fifteen feet. But this one is still far from that, at most the height of one person, with a wingspan not exceeding seven feet.
"The more troublesome part is that it can fly and flee. So at the start, I'll throw Grapeshot to attack its fragile wings. One should be enough. Any more would be wasteful. Then you pay close attention to its attempts to escape."
Angoulême responded with a "Mm!" Eagle Eye vision fully opened. Beasts did not know how to hide killing intent. Even in a pitch-black environment, it would be very difficult for one to ambush her.
Following the faint smell of blood and the footprints, the Phantom Troupe gradually went deeper underground. When they reached a certain junction, Angoulême lightly tugged Victor's coat and furrowed her two thick eyebrows, pointing toward one branch path.
Making a gesture for Angoulême to stay where she was, Victor formed the Quen Sign and slowly advanced along the side path.
Then he stopped. In the darkness, firelight flashed, and Grapeshot drew a beautiful arc as it flew toward the area not far ahead.
Boom!
With a scream, the monster charged from its hiding place toward the witcher. It pounced swiftly through the darkness like a shooting star.
Although somewhat startled, Victor instinctively reacted. He nimbly dodged to the side, his back pressing against the mine wall, letting the monster sweep past beside him.
Then came another shrill scream. An arrow struck the cockatrice's left wing. Victor saw Angoulême throw down the crossbow in her hand and meet the monster with Golden Eagle in hand.
It flapped its wings and once again accelerated, leaping toward the girl. Amid its hissing cry, it opened its terrifying bird beak.
Dangerous tension spread through Angoulême's entire body. She precisely leaned aside and opened space to avoid the pecking thrust. At the same time, Golden Eagle swept past with the momentum, scattering foul-smelling chicken blood across the ground. This sword struck fiercely into the monster's leg, causing it to lose balance and crash heavily to the ground, while also robbing it of its most dangerous speed.
Facing away from the two of them, the cockatrice screamed repeatedly. It shook its body and stood up, giving them a vicious surprise. Its tail suddenly lashed over like a whip, the sharp tip aimed straight at the witcher's throat.
This movement was extremely swift, but unfortunately, the monster had chosen Victor. Under lightning reflexes, the Sterling Silver Warrior Sword would only move faster than its tail. Amid a miserable scream, it rolled all over the ground in pain. Victor had cut off the tip of its tail in a single strike.
And that lightning-fast exchange was clearly seen by Angoulême nearby. She could not help feeling her palms sweat slightly. She knew that if she had been the one defending, she might not have been able to handle it so effortlessly.
Stopping his eager troupe member, the leader of the Phantom Troupe flourished his sword and walked gracefully toward the monster as it climbed up again. Aiming at the red gizzard in its throat, he thrust out a short and forceful sword strike.
With power from his elbow, the force of this blow slammed the monster into the rock wall. The cockatrice, its throat opened with a hole, gave a hissing cry, flapped its wings in vain, spat blood, and wildly swung its tail like a whip.
Its death frenzy did not last long. It swayed a few times, then fell to the ground with a thud. Blood gushed from the wound and was absorbed by the mud on the mine floor.
Stopping Angoulême, who wanted to approach, Victor signaled for her to retreat a few steps. "This thing is very cunning. There's no need to rush close. Let the blood flow a little longer. Even if it's pretending to be dead, it'll become truly dead."
Remembering this instruction, the girl followed the youth and backed away a few steps. Then she chuckled and took out her precious music box, playing Proof of a Hero.
This song was now Angoulême's theme song. During the journey south, when they spoke of her achievements in protecting Shani during the Vizima uprising, Victor had given her Proof of a Hero as a reward.
Listening to this song after killing a monster was actually quite fitting.
After the music box looped twice, sensing that the cockatrice had gone completely silent, with even faint twitching stopped, the witcher stepped forward and cautiously stabbed it with the tip of his sword, confirming that it was thoroughly dead.
Then Victor sheathed his sword, took a padding cloth from his herbal satchel, and beckoned for Angoulême to come help carry the monster out of the cave.
For a two-hundred-florin deal, it would not hurt to first show the employer the complete monster, let him feel the service was worth the price, and then collect the materials.
"Angoulême, did you know? A cockatrice is precious from head to toe. It's said that its meat tastes just like chicken, and its stomach is a necessary ingredient for several high-level blade oils!
"Then look here. The most valuable part of its entire body is above the tail, especially these feathers in the middle. Touch them. They feel even softer than goose feathers, and they don't wear down easily.
"A pen made from cockatrice tail feathers writes both cleanly and beautifully. Experienced scribes will pay five gold coins for each pen without the slightest hesitation!"
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