Cold rain slapped chaotically against his face, while warm tears mingled with the freezing water.
Calm down. I need to think this through with a clear head... What should I do now?
"Two... three... five..."
I need to calm down. Counting prime numbers has always helped me remain composed...
"Seven... eleven... thirteen... seventeen..."
Prime numbers are lonely numbers divisible only by one and themselves. They have always given me tremendous courage...
"Nineteen... twenty-three... twenty-nine... thirty-one... thirty-seven..."
...Wait.
I don't remember this being part of my character.
But it really did calm me down.
In that case, I'll make it a habit from now on.
...
Victor Corion's guilt lasted for approximately one minute.
He sprang from the ground with a kip-up. Counting prime numbers had calmed Corion and given Victor tremendous courage!
After moving his jaw to confirm that Geralt had not knocked it crooked, he scooped Cedric into his arms and trudged through the mud toward Lobinden, searching for someone who could care for the elf.
...
At the same time, inside the commandant's office at the Blue Stripes' headquarters in Flotsam.
The map of the entire Pontar region remained spread across the desk, just as it had during their previous meeting. However, the atmosphere between the two men standing beside it was nowhere near as friendly as before.
Faced with Geralt's piercing gaze, Vernon Roche turned his head aside.
"Explain yourself! We agreed that I would go alone to meet Iorveth. Why did you have Dandelion trick information out of Zoltan, then bring your men to surround the Cáelmewedd ruins?
"Do you realize that if you hadn't charged in, the Kingslayer would already have lost the Scoia'tael's trust? Under the right circumstances, the elves might even have tied Letho up and handed him over to me.
"Your attack caused the chaotic battle that allowed the Kingslayer to abduct Triss and escape!"
After enduring the White Wolf's accusations, Roche thought of Iorveth's humiliation and Victor's actions. He snatched up a stack of documents, slammed them against the desk, and erupted in fury.
"You have no right to accuse me! I was performing my duty. Hunting the criminal Iorveth and the Kingslayer Letho are both my responsibility. I did everything in my power to carry out that duty. Who are you to interfere with my methods?
"Besides, I did it for your safety! If I hadn't been worried that the elves would kill you, I would never have needed to come to your rescue!
"Your fellow witcher and junior colleague Victor was the one who stopped me from capturing Iorveth. That was blatant treason!
"Listen carefully. I can't stop Loredo's men from reporting what happened. Flotsam has already posted a bounty for Victor, and once this report reaches Vizima, there will be nowhere in all Temeria where he can find refuge!
"The only reason I haven't sent it yet is because..."
Roche did not finish. Instead, he grabbed the paperweight from the desk and hurled it into the corner with a crash.
The White Wolf understood what the commander of the Blue Stripes meant.
Victor was a knight of Skellige, the Viscount of Wine in Toussaint, a nobleman who had joined the ruling class, and someone personally selected to accompany the king as part of his royal escort.
On the day of the assassination, Victor had possessed countless better opportunities to act. He would never have needed to wait until they reached the monastery. Merely refusing to step forward and slay the dragon would have placed Foltest, trapped on the bridge, in mortal danger.
A brief review of Victor's strange attempts to protect the king that day was enough to draw two conclusions. First, he might have known something beforehand. Second, he could not possibly have been a member of the Kingslayers.
Silence settled over the room.
...
Another roar of human rage came from outside the window, accompanied by the wailing pleas of nonhumans. Geralt and Roche frowned simultaneously.
"Has Loredo lost his mind? He's allowing humans to riot and attack nonhumans! Is this still Temeria? Were you not sitting in front of me, I would think we were in Kaedwen or Aedirn."
Vernon Roche slammed his fist against the desk.
"It seems the intelligence I received is probably true. According to the report, that bastard learned of the king's death and is preparing to offer Flotsam and its territory to Henselt of Kaedwen!"
"...If Henselt is involved, everything makes sense. Everyone knows that bandit king plans to eliminate every nonhuman race within Kaedwen. If Loredo intends to defect to him, he naturally won't mind carrying out some preliminary 'cleansing.'"
After speaking, Geralt suddenly remembered Síle de Tansarville, who had appeared at Loredo's residence before his last conversation with the commandant. Perhaps the sorceress had been negotiating the terms of Loredo's defection at the time.
Roche lit his pipe, leaned back in his chair, and released a long breath.
"Ves is collecting the intelligence now. We'll soon learn exactly what Bernard Loredo is planning."
...
While the White Wolf and the Blue Stripe commander argued, a young man wrapped entirely in a cloak stood before the gate into Flotsam.
A smile touched his lips, and light gleamed within his pupils.
"Axii.
"Hello, old friend. Hand over your purse and forget I was ever here."
The guard holding the spear stared blankly ahead.
"Ah... my dear old friend. I've missed you so much. Here's my purse."
The young man accepted the coins. As he passed through the gate, he casually tore down the new notice posted beside Iorveth's bounty.
WANTED
"The wicked witcher Victor Corion has joined forces with the Scoia'tael and brutally murdered loyal and courageous soldiers of the kingdom. Anyone who captures him or provides proof of his death will receive a generous reward from Bernard Loredo, Commandant of Flotsam."
In truth, the sketch was so crude that Victor's face was completely unrecognizable. Even his eyes had been drawn like a cat's. Its resolution could only be described as negative 1080p.
The only useful details were the four scars across his face, and Victor had already covered those with concealer on his way into town.
Earlier, when he had brought Cedric back to Lobinden to recover, he had seen countless nonhumans who had fled there for refuge. Still terrified by what they had escaped, they had looked at the witcher with anything but friendliness.
Had Victor not been carrying Cedric, the spiritual leader of Lobinden's native population, and had people who recognized the elf not quickly stepped forward to defend him, someone might have confronted Victor directly.
Now he understood why the nonhumans had fled.
When Victor reached the gallows square in Flotsam, he found it filled with hanged elves. Several dwarves reduced to bloody pulp lay on the ground, while other elves had been subjected to impalement and given a so-called "open-mouthed smile."
What was impalement?
A stake was driven into the condemned person's body. Most commonly, it entered through the anus, though women were sometimes impaled through the vagina, and the victim was then left to die.
Depending upon the stake's diameter, the opening sometimes had to be stretched with a dilator or widened with a knife. The executioner would then insert the stake and drive it farther inside with a hammer.
In some regions, after the stake had penetrated more than twenty inches, the executioner would raise it upright and plant it inside a prepared hole. The victim's own weight would gradually force the stake deeper until it emerged through the armpit, chest, back, or abdomen.
Under ordinary circumstances, someone tortured in this manner could endure more than three days of indescribable agony before finally dying.
In the most successful impalements, the stake emerged through the victim's mouth, creating what was known as an "open-mouthed smile."
At that moment, another elf was thrown from a second-story window nearby. The mob immediately surged forward, trampling and beating him, providing Victor with a vivid demonstration of how the hellscape before him had been created.
His fists clenched beneath his cloak.
No living being deserved such a fate.
As he turned a corner, three blood-spattered thugs blocked his way. Their bald, thickset leader had a vicious face.
"Hey! Pull down that fucking hood! Let us see whether you're a pointy-eared bastard!"
Victor silently lowered his hood.
His expression was icy, and a faint crimson glow stirred deep within his nine-tomoe Sharingan. That appearance, combined with his visibly rounded ears, instantly extinguished the thugs' violent enthusiasm.
They retreated several steps in alarm, then turned and hurried away in search of another victim.
"A damned massacre. These bastards have all lost their minds! They're murdering innocent people!
"But what can I do? It feels as though I can't do anything...
"Draw my sword and kill my way from one end of town to the other? Follow the Butcher of Novigrad with a Butcher of Flotsam? How would that make me any different from these bastards?"
His mind filled with unanswered questions.
When Victor stopped outside Limping Sam's Inn, he heard a familiar voice shouting angrily.
It was Dandelion.
"Stop! Dmitri, you're trying to murder innocent people!"
"Get out of our way! Have you forgotten who has been slaughtering our people in the forest? Every nonhuman deserves to die!"
Crash!
Victor kicked the door open, pulled off his cloak, and entered the inn.
Six feet tall and cold-faced, dressed in heavy Undvik armor with two swords across his back, he presented such an intimidating sight that the inn's common room immediately became much quieter.
The witcher stared at the leader, a bald, buck-toothed man with an ugly face, while walking toward the bard one deliberate step at a time.
The name Dmitri stirred a vague memory. Victor seemed to recall that the man was a criminal whom the merciful Loredo had pardoned.
Dmitri was now dressed like an ordinary townsman and stood shouting from the front of the crowd. However, the gleaming, razor-sharp sword at his waist hardly belonged to an ordinary civilian.
Victor looked at the people Dandelion was protecting and saw a married elven couple dressed in rags.
He turned to face the crowd.
"Good people, return to your homes. Otherwise, you will face a witcher's blade."
"No! Their kind killed my son! Damned elves! I demand blood for blood!"
The man who was presumably Dmitri shouted loudly, encouraging the four or five armed villagers behind him to step forward.
Victor had no interest in further argument.
Shing!
The King's Guardian flashed from its sheath, the blade gleaming like clear water.
Victor leveled its point at Dmitri.
"If you wish to remain alive long enough to have another son, you should calm down. Don't you agree?"
Dmitri stared into those faintly crimson eyes. A bead of cold sweat rolled down the side of his nose.
He was certain the man before him was prepared to erupt into violence and kill him. Dmitri wore no armor, while those standing behind him were merely ordinary townspeople.
He raised both hands and slowly retreated.
"You'll pay for this someday, freak! You elven bastards got lucky, but sooner or later...!"
Dmitri finally led the others away.
The elven couple stepped forward and kissed Victor's hand in gratitude, then hurriedly escaped through the rear entrance.
Dandelion remained as elegantly dressed as ever, the feather in his hat standing proudly upright. The bard and the witcher exchanged a glance, then found a nearby table and sat down. With the inn almost empty, they helped themselves to the beer.
Victor raised his mug.
"To your health!"
Dandelion pulled a twisted face.
"At a fucking time like this, you... Fine! To your health as well!"
Vizima Champion, the perfect choice whenever old friends reunited.
"How were the gates of hell opened?" Victor asked after licking the foam from his upper lip.
Dandelion pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his mouth.
"I have no evidence, but I'd wager everything that Loredo arranged it. Men in power always find ways to conceal their mistakes and failures, while mobs are constantly searching for entertainment, whether joyful or bloody."
"There must have been some excuse."
"This town will never be the same. An age of hatred has arrived. They claim this is revenge for the soldiers killed while following Roche, but those men were nothing more than thugs hired by Loredo. No one will miss them.
"A 'spontaneous riot.' Fuck that. Loredo remains safely removed from everything while his criminals incite the mob. I saw plenty of villains wearing civilian clothes and standing at the front of the crowds, but you'll never find any evidence connecting them to Loredo."
"The guards haven't tried to restore order?"
"Why would they? The Scoia'tael killed their comrades, and Loredo hasn't given them any orders. That bastard Dmitri is the worst of them. I personally saw what he did to Derae... Oh... Those animals!"
Victor raised an eyebrow. "Who is Derae?"
"My lover. My elven lover."
The sorrowful female voice came from nearby.
It belonged to Margot, the brothel's madam. Her cheeks were flushed red.
"Don't look at me strangely. Men disgust me. It shouldn't be difficult to understand why I prefer women..."
She walked to the counter and gathered several bottles of strong liquor into her arms.
"They killed Derae. Yesterday, they adored her. They drank and celebrated with her, telling her how beautiful she was...
"Today, five men came. They were covered in blood, crazed from killing, and howling like beasts..."
Still murmuring, she carried the bottles back downstairs and slammed the door leading to the brothel. The lock clicked shut.
The establishment was clearly closed for the day.
Silence filled the common room.
Victor drew a deep breath.
"Dandelion, there's something I need to tell you. The reason Roche's attempt to capture them failed..."
The bard interrupted him immediately.
"I know. Ves came here earlier to collect information and told me everything that happened.
"There is something I haven't told you. Owing to a certain patriotic impulse and suitable compensation, I accepted employment as one of Roche's informants.
"Yes, Vernon Roche. Hey, is that unbelievable look of contempt supposed to insult me?"
"Absolutely. I consider you meticulous enough to ruin every intelligence operation you participate in! Hahahahaha!"
The news was simply too amusing, and Victor could not restrain his laughter.
The careless, endlessly talkative Dandelion had absolutely nothing in common with a discreet and detail-oriented spy.
"Fuck you! Laugh all you want. At least I've decided to do something constructive!"
"Believe me, the only constructive thing you can do is write more beautiful poetry."
"A man cannot survive by singing poetry alone. Besides, I'm a citizen of this world. I was never a servant of Emperor Emhyr, and I haven't harmed anyone."
"Do as you please. I'm certain you'll remain a spy for a while, become bored, and eventually quit. That's exactly the kind of useless man you are."
Dandelion irritably punched Victor's shoulder. His fist carried almost no strength.
Victor's smile faded, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So what do you think?"
The bard looked innocent. "What do I think about what? About what you did?"
Victor nodded somberly.
Dandelion removed his hat and pressed his hands together in front of his face.
"I don't think anything of it. You're my friend. Roche is merely my employer.
"In fact, I'm preparing to resign. I can't continue working for him when my friend and my employer appear to be in conflict.
"As for every terrible consequence we now see, my friend, don't casually assume responsibility. No one can see the future.
"If we're assigning blame, then I should apologize to you as well. I was worried something might happen to Geralt, so when Zoltan accidentally mentioned the Cáelmewedd ruins, I passed the location to Roche.
"Had I not done that, perhaps none of this would have happened.
"You wouldn't have been placed in such an impossible position, and there would have been no massacre in Flotsam. Do you blame me for that?"
Understanding the bard's point, Victor folded his arms and contemplated the matter for half a minute before opening his eyes.
"No. You did nothing wrong. My impossible position resulted from unfortunate circumstances and everyone following their own loyalties.
"As for the massacre...
"During an avalanche, every snowflake bears some responsibility. But I refuse to pay for crimes committed by these bastards!
"The people who began this will meet the fate they deserve. They'll reap what they've sown!
"Incidentally, where is Zoltan now?"
Seeing the witcher suddenly become refreshed and clearheaded, the bard smiled with extraordinary charm.
"He fled into the forest as soon as the riot began."
Victor pulled a pouch of crowns from his Endless Herbal Satchel and slapped it into Dandelion's hand.
"Good. Then you should leave quickly as well. Believe me, the bloodshed in Flotsam has only begun. After something like this, Iorveth will not remain silent."
...
As the bard left through the rear door of Limping Sam's Inn, the door to the Blue Stripes' office across the street opened.
Ves glanced at Geralt, who sat with his head lowered in thought, then approached her commander.
"Loredo still refuses to meet with us. His messenger claims that the current disorder is a 'spontaneous riot' and that he is powerless to stop it."
Roche hurled his pipe to the floor.
"Damn it! That bastard is treating us like fools! If that's how he wants to play, I'll make him regret it."
Ignoring her commander's anger, Ves shrugged and continued.
"Loredo has reached an agreement with Kaedwen. The merchant who recently moved into his residence is most likely an envoy sent by Henselt."
Geralt of Rivia suddenly raised his head. "What are you planning to do?"
"I'll capture the spy and force him to reveal what he knows. Then I'll sentence Commandant Loredo to death."
"I thought you would be eager to travel to Aedirn and pursue the Kingslayer."
Vernon Roche placed his interlocked hands upon the desk and stared intently at Geralt.
"The Blue Stripes are responsible for preserving the stability of the kingdom. I'm not going anywhere until Loredo has been dealt with.
"That spy may possess information about the Kingslayer. Don't shake your head and dismiss the possibility yet! If you knew that Henselt had already assembled an army and was marching into Aedirn with Vergen as his target, you wouldn't find my suspicions so strange.
"The person who benefits most is usually the most suspicious. Henselt of Kaedwen may be behind everything.
"First he marched into the Pontar Valley after Demavend's death left it without firm control. Now he is reaching for Flotsam after it lost its king.
"White Wolf, you and I are standing in the gateway through which anyone traveling to the Pontar Valley must pass. Whoever controls Flotsam can influence the kingdom's fate.
"I need your help."
Geralt of Rivia covered his face with one hand, troubled by Roche's request.
No matter how racist Loredo might be, he was still the commandant appointed to govern Flotsam by King Foltest. Attacking a royal official would violate Geralt's fundamental principle of avoiding political involvement.
The Blue Stripe commander waited expectantly, while the witcher remained conflicted. Neither noticed that the adjutant standing to one side had attempted to speak several times since the conversation began.
Ves still had one more matter to report.
However, the verbal clash between Roche and Geralt had spiraled so far that revealing it now might only create additional complications.
She stared at the map of the Pontar Valley spread across the desk. After hesitating briefly, she left the office and decided to handle the matter privately.
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