Fine rain finally began to fall from the gray sky. Near the Cáelmewedd ruins deep within Flotsam Forest, two men were locked in fierce combat, Vernon Roche of the Blue Stripes and Iorveth of the Scoia'tael.
Not long ago, with Victor covering him, Iorveth had recovered, reclaimed his weapons, and taken over the battle against Roche. Under the elf's command, the Scoia'tael resistance also became systematic and organized.
Soon afterward, a passing Scoia'tael patrol discovered the fighting. Some of them went to report the situation while the rest joined the battle, instantly erasing the advantage gained by the Blue Stripes' surprise attack.
The balance of power reversed completely. In the end, the King's Guardian was knocked spinning from Roche's hand, Vernon Roche was kicked down onto the wet grass, and Iorveth's curved blade rested against his throat.
The elf stretched his neck, making the iris tattoo upon it especially clear.
"The special force Foltest established after fighting the Scoia'tael during the First Nilfgaardian War. Every member is a carefully selected veteran or highly trained specialist."
He hooked the Blue Stripes armband with his blade, tossed it into the air, and caught it.
"Roche, thank you for bringing me this Temerian lily. It was the only emblem I lacked. As of today, I have defeated the commanders of every special force in the North.
"Taeghane! What a beautiful day!"
The commander of the Blue Stripes glared defiantly at him. "Hmph! You cowardly murderer. Get it over with!"
The woodland fox smiled and shook his head.
"No, Roche. I won't kill you. Elves do not kill the last surviving member of a defeated group, and you are Victor's friend. Killing you would hurt his feelings.
"I owe him a favor, so I'll show him this courtesy.
"Vernon Roche, live, and remember that Iorveth defeated you. More importantly, never forget that he can defeat you again whenever he wishes.
"Va fail! Farewell!"
With that, the elf sheathed his blade, turned, pushed through the bushes, and strode away with light, cheerful steps.
Burning the sight of Iorveth's retreating back into his memory, Vernon Roche pounded the ground and roared, "Iorveth, you've made a terrible mistake! One day I'll find you. I swear it!"
...
Fine rain drifted from the gray sky. Within the Rose Baths beneath the Cáelmewedd ruins, three witchers capable of influencing the fate of the Continent had gathered.
They were Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Letho of Gulet, the Kingslayer, and Victor of Kaer Trolde, the Dragonborn.
The surprise Aard struck its target directly, blasting the White Wolf away and sending him crashing through a wall.
Letho rose from the ground and exchanged a glance with Victor. He lightly struck his fist against his chest as he passed, then left the baths without looking back.
Geralt emerged from the rubble protected by Quen and completely unharmed. Even so, after watching the Kingslayer escape past him, his gaze sharpened as it settled upon Victor.
"Why did you do that?"
"Letho is my friend."
Clang!
Their blades collided with a deafening crash. A continuous storm of lighter impacts immediately followed as the pirouette sword dance unexpectedly enveloped the blond witcher.
Geralt had never fought Victor, but they had battled side by side, giving him some understanding of the young man's abilities.
When it came to Signs and alchemy, Victor was a genius who might appear only once in a hundred generations. He understood any Sign the moment he saw it and mastered it as soon as he learned it. The Yrden Binding Seal, for example, had required only a single demonstration from Geralt before Victor could use it effortlessly.
His alchemy needed even less explanation. From the potion that had healed Triss to Leo's Grass Draught and countless other fierce and powerful formulas, Victor's accomplishments spoke for themselves. He had even healed Geralt's old knee injury.
Such an opponent was naturally difficult to handle.
Fortunately, Victor was not without weaknesses. His greatest flaw was his lack of experience with the sword, which he could compensate for only with his extraordinarily fast reflexes.
That weakness would never be exposed against an inferior opponent, but during a contest between experts, it created an opportunity that could be exploited.
Therefore, the moment Geralt decided to fight, the white-haired witcher immediately trapped his opponent within his favored pirouette sword dance.
Victor had never fought Geralt either, but as the man who had treated him, he understood the White Wolf's physical condition intimately.
His mastery of Signs was inferior to Geralt's, but his Signs were slightly more powerful. His reflexes surpassed Geralt's, but his swordsmanship and combat experience could not begin to compare.
Victor knew Geralt merely intended to force him aside and pursue Letho. The White Wolf would never strike with the intention of killing him, but he would have no hesitation about inflicting a few wounds that were neither too shallow nor too severe.
Victor could only fight with everything he had.
He had no choice but to fight with everything he had.
By a strange twist of fate, both men went all out.
Ordinarily, Victor should have been pushed onto the defensive the instant their blades met. Instead, his reflexes were far faster than normal, approaching divine speed. He forcibly held his ground and refused to surrender even a single step, blocking Geralt's path through the breach.
In the dim light, the White Wolf noticed the brilliant, intricate battle patterns spreading across Victor's face.
With his immense combat experience, the white-haired witcher immediately recognized them as some form of toxic reaction, although he could not understand why they had formed such unusual patterns. Still, the reason the blond witcher could hold him back was obvious. Victor had swallowed every useful potion he possessed before charging into the ruins.
Blizzard enhanced his reaction speed, while Thunderbolt increased his strength, compensating for his inferior swordsmanship and experience.
Victor could not be defeated quickly, and Geralt understood perfectly well that the Kingslayer's escape was already inevitable.
Thunder rolled overhead, water splashed around them, and their swords flashed with cold light.
Whoosh!
The White Wolf's steel sword passed across the bridge of Victor's nose, missing by less than an inch. A little closer, and it would have carved another scar across the exact same place.
"You can't save Letho. The current chaos merely gives him an opportunity to slip away. Whichever side wins, they'll eventually hunt down the Kingslayer and deal with him. The only difference is that Roche will take him back for trial, while Iorveth will kill him immediately."
The Dragonborn's lightning-fast downward strike slammed heavily against Geralt's blade, almost overpowering his defense.
"That's true, but you're wrong about one thing. If Iorveth wins, he should be willing to spare the Kingslayer as a favor to me. At the very least, Letho should be able to leave Flotsam Forest safely this time."
Their sword guards crashed together.
"What did you do?"
"The opposite of what you did."
The White Wolf retreated several steps and stopped attacking. The Dragonborn did not pursue him.
Although they had been locked in battle, voices from above had remained audible within the baths. The continuing shouts of elves revealed that Scoia'tael reinforcements were arriving in an endless stream. The battle at the Cáelmewedd ruins had already been decided.
Victor turned sideways and cleared the opening.
"Go ahead. Iorveth is a petty bastard. He'll hold a grudge over that blow for a long time. He probably won't kill you if he catches you, out of consideration for me, but the experience certainly won't be pleasant."
The look Geralt gave the young man softened slightly. Then, with a scrape of steel, he returned his sword to its sheath.
Victor sheathed his own sword as well.
"Don't hold this against me. I had no choice. If Letho had been the one trying to cut you down, that Aard would have struck him instead."
The White Wolf shook his head, walked past the Dragonborn, and nimbly climbed upward. He soon vanished from sight.
Victor watched Geralt's retreating back and thought about how he had been left with no choice twice in rapid succession.
Drawing a deep breath, he suddenly fired an Aard into the wall, sending fragments of stone flying everywhere.
"Fuck!"
...
Beneath the mournful, weeping sky, the witcher regained his composure and climbed out of the baths.
Before the statue of Eldan and Cymoril, the lovers who symbolized eternal devotion, the ground was covered with the bodies of elves and humans. Some of the humans were not wearing Blue Stripes uniforms and were probably men serving Flotsam's commandant, Loredo.
When Victor appeared, Iorveth approached him with another female elf.
"What happened down there? Where is the Kingslayer?"
"He escaped while I was holding back the White Wolf. I don't know where he is now. We'll have to start searching for him."
Iorveth embraced Victor.
"Don't worry, my brother Vic. Without elven assistance, he won't be able to move freely through the forest. We'll catch him soon."
Uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy, Victor pushed him away.
"Ior, that isn't necessary. I simply had no other choice!"
The elven commander laughed.
"That doesn't matter. A decision made in an instant reveals a person's truest feelings, and humans will soon help you make your final choice. Remember that the Scoia'tael will stand firmly behind you.
"You helped me, and I will not forget it. But if you want to protect Letho, you may need to do more, because I spared Vernon Roche just now for your sake."
Victor blinked, then nodded gratefully. He had no reason to doubt Iorveth's words. If Roche had died because of Victor's intervention, he would have accepted the reality of it, but it still would have left him deeply uncomfortable.
Iorveth pushed the female elf beside him forward.
"Allow me to introduce my new adjutant, Lansi aep Easnillen, Ciaran's sister. And this is my brother, Victor Corion. Our relationship is built upon mutual respect and mutual understanding!"
He burst into loud, hearty laughter as he finished speaking.
Victor could only respond with a helpless, bitter smile at the subtle mockery.
Unable to understand the private joke between them, Lansi stood to the side in confusion.
The witcher took the initiative and extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lansi. I'm sorry about Ciaran."
Bearing a slight resemblance to her handsome brother, Lansi wore her hair in dreadlocks. She took Victor's hand.
"I'm not sad. Ciaran sacrificed himself for our ideals, so everything was worthwhile. He merely went ahead of me and is waiting where the apple trees bloom."
The matter involved elven beliefs, so the witcher said nothing further. He released her hand and looked toward Iorveth.
"I'm going to follow Letho's trail. Should you capture him first, please remember what I asked."
The elven commander remained steady and composed.
"Vic, I have many things I wish to tell you, but now is clearly not the time. You're in a hurry to pursue Letho. For now, you have my promise. If the Scoia'tael capture that man, he will remain alive. I also want to know why he intended to kill me."
Victor placed a hand over his chest in salute, and the elves bowed slightly in return.
Activating his superhuman senses, the witcher followed the tracks that were gradually disappearing beneath the rain and left the Cáelmewedd ruins.
...
While Victor was tracking Letho, somewhere in another world among the infinite reaches of time and space, aboard a modern ship, Ciri awoke from yet another nightmare.
"Geralt! Vic! No!"
Ciri sat upright, drenched in sweat. She had dreamed of Victor, the young man she loved like a brother, and Geralt, her adoptive father, cutting at each other beneath a sky filled with falling rose petals.
The images had been indistinct, but there was no mistaking the danger of the flashing blades. The slightest lapse from either of them could have resulted in death.
Ciri could not understand why Victor and Geralt would fight so fiercely, but she knew that her vacation had ended yet again.
A hand emerged from beneath the covers, picked up a towel beside the bed, and wiped the cold sweat from her face.
"Ciri, are you all right? Were you dreaming about your past?"
Looking at the gentle, considerate woman beside her, Ciri did not know what to say.
She was Lara Croft, a courageous university student whom Ciri had met on an island sealed away by unnatural weather.
They had fought side by side against numerous villains, defeated the legendary Sun Queen Himiko, freed the island from its curse, and even studied fourteen different ways to use nunchaku together.
However, while they were aboard a ship returning to Lara's homeland, Ciri's sudden nightmare had reminded her that she still had unfinished responsibilities.
She jumped out of bed and retrieved her leather armor and steel sword from beneath it.
"I'm sorry. Something terrible is happening in my homeland. I have to try to return and resolve it."
Lara climbed out of bed, her ponytail swaying and her eyes glistening as she helped Ciri put on her equipment.
"I always knew you would leave one day. I just didn't expect that day to come so soon."
"I... I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize. There are so many mysteries in the world, and you've already opened a door for me. Since you managed to come here, perhaps one day I'll find a way to reach you. Then we can face the unknown together again."
Ciri embraced her closest friend.
Then, encouraged by Lara's gaze, she once again activated her unreliable world-hopping ability and departed for another unknown world.
...
Victor continued following Letho through Flotsam Forest. This time, tracking him was not difficult.
The giant's footprints were easily recognizable, and the situation had not allowed him to conceal his trail. The tracks followed an almost perfectly straight path toward Flotsam.
As he pursued them, Victor first wondered why Letho was heading toward the town. Then he remembered the man possessed a false mask and a Chameleon Cloak capable of concealing his build. Blending into a crowd would not be difficult.
The earlier conversation had also revealed that Serrit and Auckes were farther upriver in the Pontar Valley. The Kayran, which had previously obstructed travel, had been eliminated, so finding a boat and sailing upstream would now be easy.
From what Victor knew of Letho, the man would never abandon his companions.
Beside Letho's trail, Victor could also see footprints left by Geralt. The White Wolf had no reason to hide his movements either, and his tracks also led directly toward Flotsam.
Although Victor's interference had cost Geralt the initiative, the White Wolf clearly had not abandoned the pursuit.
Rain continued falling from the gloomy sky, soaking Victor's leather armor and seeping into his clothing. The wet fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin.
Before he realized it, Lobinden had come into view.
Victor suddenly stopped.
Cedric, an elf he knew well, was walking toward him. The entire front of his clothing was soaked in blood.
The witcher hurried forward, supported him, and guided him beneath a tree.
"What happened to you? Who did this?"
"So it's you, Dragonborn. Farewell... Soon I won't feel pain anymore. I've always wanted to die among the trees."
Victor lifted Cedric's clothing. The clean, decisive wound looked familiar. It was clearly the work of an expert swordsman.
The alchemist took out bandages and wrapped the wound, then poured alcohol over it to disinfect it. Cedric hissed and gasped from the pain.
Once the emergency treatment was complete, Victor sensed someone approaching. He recognized the footsteps from countless days at Kaer Morhen, and Geralt made no effort to conceal them.
The footsteps stopped behind him.
"I came looking for him. How is Cedric?" the White Wolf asked.
Victor did not answer him. Instead, he spoke directly to the elf.
"Don't worry, dear Cedric. You'll die eventually, but not today. Now tell me what happened. Afterward, drink this potion and sleep. You'll feel much better when you wake."
Cedric stared at the witcher with hesitation. As far as he knew, an injury like this could not be cured.
However, he had intended to explain what happened anyway, so he spoke between ragged breaths.
"Triss asked me to help collect some materials. When I brought them to her, a witcher burst inside and attacked us. I tried to protect Triss, but he was too fast. I couldn't defeat him."
Victor's expression immediately darkened.
Who the fuck else could it have been?
"He struck Triss before she could finish casting a spell. He knew how to fight a sorceress. I heard her scream Letho's name.
"Then he forced Triss to open a portal. He wanted to travel to Upper Aedirn, somewhere near the dwarven town of Vergen."
Behind Victor came the sound of Geralt grinding his teeth.
"Triss said it was madness. She didn't have exact coordinates. The man looked at her strangely and threatened her.
"'You had better do your best. You'll go first, and I'll follow.'
"Then I lost consciousness. When I awakened, they had both disappeared. I knew I was about to die, and the forest was calling to me.
"My beloved forest..."
Victor did not allow him to continue. He poured Vic's Old Recipe down the elf's throat. Any further delay and Cedric truly would have died.
After finally finishing the task of forcing the potion into him, Victor rose and turned to face Geralt.
The next instant, the White Wolf's fist slammed heavily into his face.
Victor was knocked to the ground.
Supporting himself against the wet, muddy grass, he climbed back to his feet and faced Geralt again.
Victor had no defense for what Letho had done. He had never imagined that the man would turn the situation around, seize Triss, and force her to open a portal so he could escape.
Without the slightest delay, Geralt punched him again, striking the opposite side of his face and knocking him back to the ground.
Victor remained lying there, allowing the rain to strike his cheeks as he listened to Geralt's footsteps recede into the distance.
He drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled the guilt weighing upon him.
"Fucking hell, Letho, my old friend. You've really put me through the wringer!"
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