On the eastern side of Loc Muinne's square, in the heart of the Temerian camp, stood the quarters of Constable John Natalis.
A map of all Temeria hung on the wall, marking the territories of its seven principal fiefs. While the king had lived, their lords had all served as loyal bulwarks of the realm. Once Foltest died, they became carrion-feeding hyenas.
Brown eyes fixed on the map, John Natalis frowned deeply.
Not even at the Battle of Brenna, when he had faced a Nilfgaardian army more than twice the size of his own, had he been this troubled.
He was a patriot.
He loved this country with absolute sincerity and would willingly shed every drop of his blood for it.
But now the enemy was within rather than without, and countless restraints tied his hands.
After King Foltest's sudden death, his two children had been rushed toward Vizima, only for disaster to strike along the way.
Boussy died.
Anaïs disappeared.
Although Natalis had assumed the regency and come to attend the summit at Loc Muinne, without royal blood or a legitimate claim of his own, in truth he could represent little more than himself.
The map filled his eyes and weighed upon his heart.
The situation was grim.
With a long sigh, he turned and sat down again, adjusting his posture slightly so that he appeared more confident and commanding.
Nothing could change what had already happened.
A man had to look forward.
He hoped Keira had been right, and that his next visitor would bring him a pleasant surprise.
...
The door opened.
The moment Natalis saw the man entering, his first impression was exceptionally favorable.
He stood around six feet tall, with a well-proportioned, powerful build and an imposing suit of heavy armor.
At first glance, his features were fairly ordinary, but the calm confidence of his bearing, his mutated pupils, and the scar across his cheek combined into a peculiar masculine appeal.
So this was the man Keira had specifically emphasized he should pay attention to.
"Victor of Kaer Trolde, Viscount Corion. Your visit surprises and pleases me. Please, sit!"
Victor saluted and took his seat.
This was also his first time meeting the renowned Temerian commander, though he'd heard stories about the man's achievements from many people over the years.
John Natalis had begun as little more than a border officer. During the Second Nilfgaardian War, however, his battlefield accomplishments had carried him rapidly through the ranks.
Eventually, he took command of the allied forces assembled by Foltest and achieved the miracle of the Battle of Brenna, crushing a force of Black Ones more than twice their size.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that without him, the world of today would look very different.
The man who had once helped shape the fate of the world was broad-faced and bald, with a strong jaw and a massive frame clad in silver-white heavy armor. He was even more powerfully built than Victor.
He looked steadfast and honest.
Appearances could certainly be deceiving, but there was an excellent chance this man genuinely was steadfast and honest.
Otherwise, neither Keira Metz nor Vernon Roche, both far from foolish, would have placed their hopes for Temeria's survival in his hands.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Constable Natalis. I'm the witcher Victor Corion. You can call me Vic.
"I'd heard of you long before coming here. Many people speak extremely highly of you. They call you a true patriot."
"We are all patriots, united beneath Temeria's lilies. And I've heard plenty about you as well, Dragonborn Bard. If the time and circumstances were different, I would very much like to hear The Dragonborn Comes.
"Before leaving Vizima, Lady Keira spoke with me about the circumstances surrounding His Majesty Foltest's death. I believe you're someone who can be trusted.
"Although I suspect her personal feelings have caused her to place rather excessive expectations upon you."
Natalis looked directly at him.
"Still, with the Loc Muinne summit about to begin, I would very much like to know why you've appeared here and what you intend to tell me. I doubt you came merely because you admire me."
Victor appreciated the man's straightforwardness and responded just as openly.
"It's like this, Constable. As you know, I'm pursuing the Kingslayer. There's no doubt the Kingslayer is currently in Loc Muinne. I don't know exactly where he is, but I intend to find him. That's why I'm here.
"Due to personal circumstances and past acquaintance, I also had the privilege of meeting His Majesty Radovid V of Redania. He shared some private information with me that might interest you."
The imposing commander rubbed the stubble along his jaw.
"You may call me John, Mr. Victor. I'm listening."
"Anaïs."
Victor paused.
"Anaïs La Valette."
The name had an immediate effect.
Natalis's iron expression cracked, revealing unmistakable urgency. His gaze stabbed into Victor's face like a blade.
"Easy, John. Don't glare at me like that. I need to remind you that King Radovid's information isn't necessarily accurate. As regent, I'm sure you understand that false information can be worse than no information at all."
Natalis's gaze didn't soften in the slightest.
He rapped his armored thigh impatiently, urging Victor to continue.
"Anaïs is in the Nilfgaardian camp. Now that Henselt has arrived, she's supposed to be transferred to the Kaedweni sector tonight.
"King Radovid asked me to find a way to rescue the girl and deliver her to him. He says that as her brother-in-law, he'll place her under his protection.
"I don't know whether the regent was already aware of this."
A brilliant light flashed in John Natalis's eyes.
"So that's it... So that's what happened..."
After a moment of reflection, the constable noticed Victor's puzzled expression and inclined his head in thanks.
"It appears Lady Keira didn't exaggerate after all. She told me that although you refused to swear allegiance to Temeria, I could trust you as I would trust her."
Victor rubbed his nose.
He hadn't expected the proud Keira to introduce him in such extravagant terms.
"Therefore, what I'm about to tell you is information normally reserved for royal advisers.
"The country's situation is extremely grave. The lords of seven major fiefs are attempting to tear the kingdom apart. I've just received information suggesting that Kaedwen and Redania may have reached a secret agreement to partition Temeria.
"And at this feast, whoever controls Anaïs controls the initiative.
"If the girl falls into Henselt's hands, that bandit can use her to extract greater concessions from Radovid.
"Conversely, if Anaïs is placed under Redanian protection, Radovid can use his status as her brother-in-law to claim authority over all Temeria.
"Perhaps it was precisely because of that potential advantage that Henselt invited Nilfgaard to participate in the summit, exchanging political concessions for custody of the girl."
Natalis's explanation revealed quite a few details Radovid had conveniently omitted.
"From the sound of it, Temeria is lying helpless on the butcher's block. If Anaïs returns to Vizima, will the situation improve?"
"If Anaïs reappears, Temeria can once again stand as an independent kingdom. I will use every resource at my disposal to ensure that happens.
"And this time, I will never again place faith in the honor of those nobles.
"In fact, Vernon Roche has also been investigating the attack involving Boussy and Anaïs. Your information provides an important piece of the puzzle.
"It proves there must be traitors among the Temerian nobility conspiring with the Nilfgaardian Empire. Otherwise, this situation could never have arisen."
"I understand. Thank you for trusting me with this information. I won't betray that trust by spreading it.
"In that case, I've accomplished what I came here to do. Please excuse me."
They both placed hands over their chests and exchanged formal salutes.
John Natalis watched Victor Corion leave.
Victor had almost reached the door when the constable suddenly called after him.
"Wait, Vic. Read this first."
He opened an iron strongbox, removed a sealed letter, and handed it over.
The witcher accepted it.
The paper carried the fragrance of rosemary, and the distinctive seal showed that it had never been opened.
...
"A Letter Scented with Rosemary"
Victor, you syphilis-ridden bastard, I'm threatening you.
"If you don't want me to smash everything belonging to Professor Moreau, then help Natalis."
I have a feeling as I write this letter.
When the most critical moment arrives, you'll appear in exactly the right place. After all, you're a prophet, aren't you?
A syphilis-ridden prophet!
Do your best to keep this country from falling apart. I'm unbelievably busy right now. I'm not getting enough sleep, I have dark circles under my eyes whenever I look in a mirror, I barely have time for baths, and even my skin is getting rough.
Vic, my Batman, my Dark Knight, the happiness of my future life depends on you.
If you're reading this letter, it means Natalis has chosen to trust you and ask for your help.
So I'm threatening you to help him.
You have to let me threaten you this once!
Please, just let me threaten you once!
Your Keira.
A lipstick mark.
...
Victor finished reading the letter with a broad grin and chuckled happily.
He never would have imagined that from a thousand miles across the Continent, Keira could still manage to threaten him.
"Witcher, originally I had no intention of showing you that letter because I wasn't certain of your intentions or your purpose here. But when you turned to leave without hesitation, my last doubts disappeared.
"Viscount Corion, I need your assistance. I cannot casually send soldiers to attack Nilfgaard or Kaedwen.
"But an independent witcher acting on his conscience can.
"Perhaps once everything is over, I'll be forced to condemn your actions publicly. But I can promise you this, I will never issue a warrant for your arrest."
Victor blinked.
Being declared wanted didn't particularly bother him, and offending Kaedwen mattered even less.
Soon enough, all four Northern Kingdoms would have problems of their own. Who would still have the time to worry about one witcher?
And even in the worst possible scenario, if all four Northern Kingdoms placed bounties on him, Corion was still a nobleman.
He could always return to Toussaint, make wine, and enjoy the leisurely life of a country gentleman.
Natalis had spoken plainly, without filling Victor's ears with empty promises. And Keira's threat was still vivid before his eyes, with the fragrance of rosemary lingering on his fingers.
Victor placed one hand palm-up on the table with magnificent solemnity.
"Two conditions.
"First, witchers don't work for free. The going rate for rescuing a princess is three thousand orens. Half paid in advance, and I want the payment converted into Novigrad crowns."
Faced with such gloriously mercenary behavior, John Natalis shook his head and laughed.
"If His Majesty hadn't once paid exactly that much for Adda, I'd have had no idea how to price something like this."
The constable opened his money chest, removed a heavy bag of coins, and solemnly placed it in Victor's hand.
"What's your second condition?"
"According to what I know, there's a mage named Vanhemar stationed in the Nilfgaardian camp, and that bastard Renuald aep Matsen looks troublesome too.
"So I'm planning to strike the Kaedweni camp instead.
"Have the Blue Stripes provide me with intelligence support. At minimum, I need the camp layout and the likely area where Anaïs will be held.
"The more detailed the intelligence, the greater my chances of bringing her back without anyone realizing what happened."
"I've heard Henselt's Dethmold is troublesome as well?"
"That mage certainly is troublesome, but don't worry. I give you my word of honor that he isn't in Loc Muinne."
When Victor spoke of Dethmold's whereabouts, the smile on his face was difficult to interpret.
But there was absolutely no uncertainty in his voice.
Natalis found himself sharing that confidence and nodded.
"Then return tomorrow afternoon. I'll find Vernon Roche and have him provide the intelligence you need."
"There's one more thing, Constable. What exactly is your opinion of Geralt of Rivia?"
"...He probably isn't the Kingslayer. But he was unquestionably a bodyguard who failed at his duty.
"I have no desire to see the man, but neither will I order his arrest."
Satisfied with the regent's answer, Victor picked up the pleasantly heavy purse, tucked it away, placed a hand over his chest, and took his leave.
...
After leaving the Temerian camp and returning to the central square, Victor continued toward Philippa's residence.
Overall, his conversation with Natalis had been extremely successful.
The powerful big bald man wasn't quite as well informed as the younger bald king, but he commanded people who specialized in gathering intelligence.
And he was generous with money too.
Victor bought a piece of flatbread from a roadside merchant and chewed it as he walked.
Then he began thinking about a woman.
Keira Metz.
That proud little woman.
The letter had already been tucked inside his herbal satchel beside the earlier ones, but the rosemary fragrance clinging to his fingers had yet to fade.
A person could close their eyes for a long time, cover their ears, or keep their lips sealed, shutting away sight, sound, and taste.
But no one could simply stop breathing indefinitely.
As long as he breathed, that fragrance slipped softly into his nose like a thread of smoke and carried him deep into memory.
Keira Metz.
That little blonde.
The regions of the brain responsible for smell were said to lie close to the limbic system that governed emotion, while emotion itself was intimately connected to the storage of memories.
That was why, among all the senses, smell produced perhaps the most immediate and primal responses, the ones most difficult to describe in words.
He missed the sweetness of caramel.
The salt of the sea breeze.
The richness of coffee.
The clean freshness of a pine forest.
And Keira Metz's rosemary.
How dare that damned woman write a letter threatening him?
She needed to be thoroughly punished, from head to toe.
Right now, he wanted to hold her.
He wanted to have sex with her.
...
Lost in those thoughts, Victor approached Philippa's residence.
The sight of Redanian soldiers standing guard outside abruptly restored his clarity.
Without breaking stride, he casually walked straight past.
As more and more signs appeared, Victor knew that the timeline was approaching the events he remembered.
Some things had changed because of his actions.
Others never would.
Radovid's desire to kill Philippa, for example, wouldn't waver even if the White Frost descended upon the world.
That was far beyond what one butterfly like Victor could change.
So the presence of Redanian soldiers outside the sorceress's residence meant the situation was serious.
The young bald king most likely already knew that his former tutor was here.
Turning the corner, Victor came upon a narrow alley.
He noticed an elf standing in the shadows, waving to him.
One of Iorveth's men.
Victor strolled toward the alley entrance.
"Are Iorveth and Angoulême all right? Where are you camped?"
"Sir, we're stationed among the ruins to the northeast. While entering the city, Lady Angoulême found a strange corpse in the sewers. The commander sent us out to find you."
"Understood. Go investigate what those Redanian soldiers are doing. If you can't find out, don't force it. Your safety comes first."
During their voyage east, Victor and Angoulême had become familiar enough with the Scoia'tael that both had been granted limited authority to issue orders when circumstances required it.
They could ask the commandos to handle tasks that weren't overly dangerous.
After giving his instructions, the witcher headed directly toward the northeastern ruins.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810