Beside the stream, the alchemist stirred the large pot. "…Next time, I need to prepare some other means of dealing damage. Dragons are unexpectedly sturdy. Besides, if it kept flying high in the sky and bombing us, no one would be able to do anything about it. Air-control countermeasures must also be included in the preparations!"
Using one round of combat alchemy to end the fiery-red-eyed state of excitement, Victor and Angoulême chatted about their experiences today, leisurely making their way out of the misty valley.
There was not much new in Angoulême's story. In summary, after Ves pulled her away in the morning, she boarded a small fishing boat with the Blue Stripes, secretly went ashore, and launched a surprise attack on the town.
Victor's story, on the other hand, she listened to with great relish, especially the gossip about the king, the part where one ballista shot killed a count, and the fact that Aryan was safe and sound.
"Since he survived, the goals we joined this war for have all been achieved, right?"
"That is indeed true, but we still need to stay for a few more days! We have to attend the victory banquet, and we must collect the bounty! Taking money for a job is only natural!
"Along the way, we can also ask whether Temeria's intelligence agency can find this dragon. If they have news, that will be a perfect chance to fleece Foltest again. He will definitely be willing to pay a high price for the dragon's head. A king's face is not so easily slapped."
The Phantom Troupe returned harmoniously to the camp, only to first run into two acquaintances on the outskirts. The first was Keira Metz. The sorceress, who should originally have been handling affairs in Vizima, was unexpectedly standing before the camp gate.
Today, she wore a standard gray hunting outfit, with the collar fastened very high, revealing only a small stretch of fair neck. This left many soldiers watching from afar deeply disappointed, and this was Victor and Keira's agreement, "Remember to wear an extra layer when going out. You absolutely must not catch cold!"
The other person was none other than Thaler, the "King's Eye," the head of Temeria's intelligence agency. For the two of them to have teleported here together from Vizima, it certainly could not be some minor trouble.
But the witcher did not care. Or rather, he did not care about most things in this era. He was only a foreigner.
"What happened? Did you not say Vizima could not do without you?" Wiping his face with a damp towel, the witcher casually teased her.
Keira rolled her eyes at Victor and did not want to explain. Instead, Thaler beside her answered with a smile, "Something very serious has happened in Aedirn. King Demavend has been assassinated! After it happened, they fell into chaos, and with the ice and snow blocking the roads, we only just received the intelligence."
The witcher blinked.
For Temeria, this matter was quite important, but it was absolutely not a crisis of life and death, so Thaler's tone was quite relaxed. Of course, diplomatically speaking, there were still some things that required a stance. He hoped to report to the king as soon as possible, so he had asked Keira to help open a portal to the camp.
As for Keira, she was even more indifferent. She knew very well that the one who had made the move was someone hired by Síle de Tansarville. After their last meeting broke up on bad terms, following this period of brewing, they had ultimately succeeded.
After confirming that there was nothing much to see in the sorceress's outfit today, the watching soldiers gradually dispersed. The witcher, meanwhile, removed the armor from his upper body and wiped himself down with the damp towel.
"Can you tell me how Demavend was assassinated? I do not think there would be no sorcerer at the king's side, not to mention his loyal soldiers and clever amulets?" Victor had a feeling that if this assassin was truly that impressive, he would come looking for Foltest!
As for the details of the assassination, perhaps they were classified when it came to commoners, but neither of the two felt there was any need to hide them from Victor. This man had just fought a legendary dragon under countless gazes and had even been knocked into a deep valley. That was enough to prove his courage and position.
Thaler adjusted his monocle and began explaining in a hoarse voice. "More than twenty days ago, Demavend III took the royal yacht out for an excursion. Accompanying him were the marksman, Tybalt of Vangorburg, and the mage, Abrad of Hagge, with over a hundred fully armed soldiers traveling alongside them.
"Originally, such precautions should have been foolproof. But the assassin used a mysterious frost bomb that instantly froze the entire ship. This unprecedented and powerful weapon froze everything within a radius of sixty yards. Only the few protected by the mage survived. Everyone else aboard the ship was frozen into ice blocks that shattered at a touch, dying on the spot.
"Then he rushed out from behind cover and charged in a straight line, dodging two shots from Tybalt before putting his short blade into the man's throat. Next, he killed two soldiers and used their corpses to block Abrad's spell attacks, then drove the short blade into his forehead. Finally, he grabbed Demavend III by the collar, hacked off his head with a few cuts, and jumped into the water with the severed head to escape."
Victor listened seriously to every detail. When the other man mentioned the powerful frost bomb, Victor touched his nose. He suddenly thought that he had just thrown a frost bomb himself. What a marvelous coincidence!
But when he thought about the power to freeze everything within a sixty-yard radius, he shook his head and sighed. When mages acted, sure enough, they were on an entirely different level. If he had had that kind of weapon just now, perhaps there would have been a chance to rely on superior numbers and leave the dragon behind.
Thinking of mages, he glanced at the sorceress and felt somewhat surprised. Logically speaking, after receiving his warning, Keira should have become more cautious after obtaining this news, but she seemed completely indifferent.
As for the straight-line breakthrough afterward, Victor did not feel much about it. He himself was very good at that. Charging a short distance at an archer while dodging shots during the advance was only basic practice for a witcher. With a body as honed to perfection as his, never mind arrows, even crossbow bolts had a chance of being dodged!
Possessing either fierce physical ability or a frost bomb alone was nothing strange. The world was vast. How many people had frost bombs? Even more people had strong bodies. But someone who had both of these things at once?
Warning bells rang loudly in Victor's heart, and he suddenly could not smile anymore. He happened to know just such a person…
"Do you two plan to wait here for the king to return? Before we parted, he was preparing to head to the monastery. Perhaps he would want us to hurry to his side!" As the witcher spoke, he put his armor back on.
Thaler rubbed his bald head. "I know. Soldiers from the front brought the news back. Just now, thanks to you stepping forward and confronting that monster, cheers to you, dragonslayer Victor!
"But getting to the monastery will not be that easy. The La Valette family's monastery is built on the rear mountain, and the terrain is very steep. The three-sided spire is a famous tourist attraction."
Thaler's words made Victor's heart sink even further. He suddenly understood how Angoulême felt when she encountered danger. Every nerve was screaming, shouting to him that something was wrong.
In addition to the frost bomb Northern Wind, that big man had also asked Victor to make several things for him. At the time, Victor had not thought much about it, nor would he think too deeply about it. He had made them for him casually. But now, looking back on it…
"Sorry, you two, but I have decided to leave now and hurry to the king as quickly as possible. Perhaps you would be willing to come with me." The witcher's sudden decision stunned Thaler and Keira.
Angoulême was even more surprised. On the way back, the leader had not looked at all like this, all loyal to king and country. Someone who had clearly planned to play the salted fish to the end had suddenly decided to go up the mountain. There had to be a reason he could not avoid!
She could not help looking into the distance. Under the afternoon sunlight, the spire of the monastery on the rear mountain was faintly visible.
…
The road by which the lord of Temeria, King Foltest, searched for his children was not smooth, but neither had he suffered any real setbacks. At this moment, Vernon Roche was leading the way ahead, while Geralt followed behind the king.
Although the monastery here had once been impossible to enter because of the rebels' stubborn defense, the problem was later resolved thanks to Geralt's splendid performance. He found a secret passage beneath a well, charged in alone, and after killing more than a dozen soldiers guarding the sluice gate, lowered the drawbridge.
Then the deeply anxious king quickly found the cleric in charge of affairs and asked where Anais and Boussy were. After confirming their location, he traveled light and simply, taking only Geralt and Vernon Roche to the place where the children were, the three-sided spire.
In principle, the rebels in the monastery had already been eliminated, but it would take some time before order was restored. The road they walked along was quiet and empty. Just as they reached the tower where the children were being kept, Foltest stopped.
"Roche, go and organize your men. Bring some Blue Stripes here. My children must be handed over to you for protection. Those noblemen's soldiers must not be allowed near my children."
Roche froze. "But Your Majesty, your safety?"
"At my side is the greatest swordsman in the North, Geralt of Rivia. He will protect my safety. Besides, your men have already cleared this area. Up above, there is only an old monk and my children. I will be perfectly safe here. Go!"
Having received the order, the commander of the Blue Stripes glanced at the witcher. After sharing hardship with the dragon, and because Geralt had indeed shone brilliantly in the battle not long ago, he had no reason to doubt him.
So he nodded solemnly. "Your Majesty, your will."
The three-sided spire, the symbol of this monastery, was built in an extremely precipitous place. Three sides were sheer cliffs and dead ends. Only the front could be passed through.
…
After confirming the king's location, the Phantom Troupe, Keira, and Thaler hurried toward the monastery's three-sided spire. Although Victor thought he was hiding it very well, both Keira and Angoulême knew very clearly that he was extremely anxious right now.
Angoulême could read his microexpressions, while Keira, after countless deep and shallow exchanges with Victor, still could not read minds, but reading the changes in his emotions was not difficult.
She knew he was worried about Foltest's safety! But that was only because he did not know the truth behind it all. Demavend had actually died because of the Lodge of Sorceresses' plan, and it had little to do with Nilfgaard.
As Keira walked, she considered whether, now that the two of them were so familiar with each other, she ought to share some of her own secrets with him. Surely he would be greatly startled once he knew!
As for Victor in front of them, he did not care what the others thought, because they did not know the secrets he knew.
The more he walked, the more nervous he became, and that emotion reached its peak when he saw the tower with sheer cliffs on three sides. He remembered with perfect clarity that past event on the banks of the Yaruga.
…
Inside the tent.
Victor slapped the table. "What are you thinking? What do you want this thing for? Are you planning to use it to do something bad?"
The person opposite him remained as calm as ever. "Heh. Batman, who goes around flashing people and beating them in the middle of the night, running naked through the streets and offending public decency, has the nerve to talk about others? So when you do it, it is good, and when others do it, it is bad?"
"Uh… sir, you misunderstand what I mean. What I meant was that this parachute is a secret I do not pass on. It involves fluid mechanics, aerodynamics, and other high-end knowledge you definitely do not understand. In short, it is extremely complex and very difficult to make! So, it will cost extra!"
The other party responded to Victor's excellent performance, complete with singing and acting, with a granite-like blank expression and a nod of silent acknowledgment.
The young man with four scars on his face sighed speechlessly. It was truly lonely when no one understood his jokes. He shook his head and made a face. "Forget it. I was not actually asking you for money. That is an ancient joke from Bell Town.
"I will give you what you want together with the bombs once they are finished! But let us make this clear first. You cannot use Batman's name. You have to think of another one yourself, like Flying Squirrel-Man or Lemur-Man. Those are not bad. Of course, with a build as big as yours, it really is a pity pigs cannot fly!"
…
The conversation from back then was vivid in his mind. Victor's face was expressionless, and his palms were covered in cold sweat, especially because what the other party had taken included the body-concealing technology he had developed exclusively for Batman. He had also taken several false masks.
The witcher could only comfort himself inwardly that everything would surely be fine. Even if that big man had successfully infiltrated the monastery using a false mask and a cloak that concealed his build, Foltest still had Geralt at his side, and Vernon Roche, not to mention Triss Merigold.
When they first met in White Stone Hall, Victor had considered how one might assassinate the king. Although it had been a wild and fanciful thought, the practical conditions had been quite clear. First, there could be no expert by the king's side. Second, the king had to lose his vigilance. Otherwise, any actively triggered amulet could cause the assassination to fail completely.
Before they reached the three-sided spire, they happened to run into a group of Blue Stripes. Victor stopped in shock. "Why are you here!?"
The one appearing before them and leading these men was none other than Vernon Roche. His companion was Triss Merigold.
Triss smiled and waved the documents in her hand. "It is good to see you, Vic. I need to investigate the dragon's intelligence, so I went back to the camp first to bring over the scouts' reports!"
"The king told me to gather my men. Seeing that you are safe and sound, he will certainly be very happy as well." The commander of the Blue Stripes patted the witcher on the shoulder.
Every one of them wore a smile, relaxed and cheerful.
Fuck! Victor's vision went dark.
In other words, at this moment, at Foltest's side, there was only Geralt. And he was the Sword of Destiny of the witcher world, just like Conan Edogawa, a walking plot trigger!
Suddenly, a scream and a roar came from the top of the tower. Everyone's faces instantly turned pale and ashen, because they all recognized that it was the king's voice!
Without hesitation, everyone rushed into the tower together.
They wound their way up the stairs, then pushed open the iron door to the top floor with a bang. Everyone clearly saw,
Foltest had fallen to the ground, blood gushing from his cut throat, while Geralt held a bloodstained short blade in his hand and crouched beside the corpse!
…
The monastery bell rang. The time was four in the afternoon.
Roche let out an inhuman howl of despair.
Victor bit his lower lip…
The king was dead!
Kingslayer, Geralt of Rivia.
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