In the morning, taking the ferry across Lake Vizima, the Phantom Troupe disembarked at the dock and headed straight for the Swamp Village, the place that made true swamp-forest speed possible.
Over the past year, relying on the driving force of the special logging zone, they had already evolved into one of the few prosperous fishing villages on the south shore of Lake Vizima. At the very least, the tavern whose walls had let the wind through last year now looked freshly painted this year.
After asking for a room, Victor and Angoulê slipped inside and began actively preparing for battle.
Regarding what Ramsat had said last night about an imminent riot, the young man of course would not believe all of it. Unexpectedly, a little market research frightened him. Many civilians knew that racial conflicts had been happening frequently recently, yet they all turned a blind eye to it, as if the matter would gradually fade away so long as they did not pay attention to it.
"Listen, Angoulê. We ca today to communicate with Yaevinn, so rember, unless it is absolutely unavoidable, do not launch an attack first. But if you see him 'turn red,' you can slap your thigh to warn ."
As the leader gave his instructions, he stuffed several Devil's Puffballs into the mber's hands. He also had the girl stick enhancent potions onto her belt. Then Victor reached his hand into the herbal satchel, his gaze hollow, dark, and unreadable.
"Vic, what's wrong? You don't look very good. Are you feeling unwell? Are you sick?"
After hesitating for a mont, the young man nodded in agreent. "It counts as a kind of illness. Fear of insufficient firepower. My stock of Grapeshot and Dancing Star are both under five... Although I replenished materials after the foundry battle, the new batch I made in my spare ti was used up again in the defense of Kaer Morhen. And lately I've been busy with enchantnt, so I haven't had ti to make bombs. If things beco unavoidable later and we have to blast open a path, I'm afraid it won't be enough."
Angoulê drew her steel sword halfway with a shing. "Mr. Corion, don't be nervous. Golden Eagle is happy to serve you!"
"You really are reliable, but at certain tis, Grapeshot is still more convenient." Silently calculating the possibility of jungle warfare breaking out and the equipnt and strength of the two of them, Victor tapped the table several tis with his fingers. "It's still manageable. The chances of flipping the table aren't high! Let's go."
...
Not long after, amid the sounds of whoosh, whoosh whoosh, whoosh, Angoulê and Victor fled in panic with their hands over their heads, crouching behind a tree trunk to dodge the rain of arrows.
After leaving the Swamp Village, the two of them had not gone east toward the logging area in human territory, but south, approaching the Scoia'tael's range of activity. As a result, before they had gone far into the jungle, the Phantom Troupe received a warm welco. Fortunately, this ti there was no need for the mber to tackle him down, since the leader could react on his own.
How nostalgic! This damned sense of déjà vu. Victor was both angry and amused. Most of these elves were probably new recruits. They actually did not recognize him.
"Calm down, everyone! Please don't shoot."
"I am a witcher apprentice of Kaer Morhen."
"Greetings to you, sons of Dol Blathanna, the Valley of Flowers!"
There had actually been another section after that. Last year, when he had left Flotsam, Toruviel had leaned close to his ear before parting and read it to him word by word, telling him to rember it firmly, and that if he shouted it when ambushed by the Scoia'tael, it could save his life.
He had used it once last year, but now he could no longer rember it.
Fortunately, the preceding parts were already enough. As the final sound fell, the effect was imdiate. Under a woman's command, the arrows fell silent...
Before long, a female elf stepped out alone from the bushes. Standing in the clearing, she said, "Is that you? Victor, my master witcher?"
Her voice was crisp and bright, unexpectedly familiar. Angoulê and Victor looked at each other. Both of them recognized that voice.
Peeking slightly out from behind the tree trunk, it was indeed an old friend, the herbalist Toruviel, whom they had t in Flotsam, now appearing in the swamp forest.
Sunlight spilled down through the gaps in the leaves, shining on her smooth forehead and gorgeous tattooed brows. Perhaps it was an illusion, but she looked even more beautiful than when they had parted last year.
Rising to his full height, Victor slowly walked out from behind the cover of the tree trunk, allowing the elven woman to clearly see his front.
With his right palm facing upward and placed before his chest, he gave an elegant, composed salute. "It has been a long ti, Lady Toruviel aep Cécile. Witcher apprentice Victor Corion greets you."
From the mont he saw her, the young man knew they would not be fighting today. After all, between him and her, they were true bosom friends bound together by music. Their friendship was solid, of excellent quality, and not watered down in the slightest.
Looking at Victor's face, she smiled sweetly and brilliantly. With four blade scars as proof, the tender youth from last year could still faintly be recognized. As expected, she really had drunk too much that night!
Waving for her subordinates to put away their weapons, Toruviel took a few steps forward and exchanged a cheek-to-cheek light embrace with Victor. The young man who had once been shorter than her was now taller and stronger than her.
Separating slightly, The female rogue shalessly copped a feel. "You've changed so much. If I hadn't heard you call yourself a witcher apprentice, I really wouldn't have thought of it..."
"I never expected to et you here either."
Calling Angoulê out, the three of them went to the lakeside to catch up. After exchanging the reasons behind this misunderstanding, only then did he learn of her current awkward situation.
Originally, Toruviel and the herbalist camp she led were an instructor group directly under the command of the Lady of Dol Blathanna, Francesca. They had been ordered to go out secretly and teach the Scoia'tael herbalism and farming knowledge.
But after leaving Flotsam and arriving near Vizima, the local Scoia'tael mbers had no intention of participating in the lessons. Instead, they asked them to temporarily set aside their teaching mission and join the cause of resisting Vizima.
They were unwilling to accept reorganization, so they had set up camp separately in the wilderness.
But the City Guard's policies for dealing with guerrillas were also tightening. Currently, each Scoia'tael "tail" could be exchanged for twenty orens. Because of this, they had already suffered several rcenary attacks and lost several companions. That was why their reaction had been so intense at first.
Yet if they wanted to abandon their mission and leave, they faced the trouble of food shortages. Yaevinn clearly had designs on the manpower in their camp, and controlled their supplies very cautiously.
Listening to Toruviel's complaints, Victor put a hand to his forehead, speechless. What kind of rotten ss was all this? It was truly a goddamned rotten ss...
In truth, most of Toruviel's experience ca from being "blad by association," because for well-known reasons, the Scoia'tael of the North held distant and even hostile attitudes toward Francesca "Daisy of the Valley" Findabair, the Lady of Dol Blathanna.
As the saying goes, the deeper the love, the deeper the hate.
All Scoia'tael in the North could be called remnants of the Vrihedd Brigade. The brigade had been the guerrilla force that gave the Northern Kingdoms endless headaches during the last Nilfgaardian War.
They had once fought side by side with Daisy of the Valley and had been willing to die for her, for the sake of reclaiming their holand, Dol Blathanna. At that ti, Francesca's title had still been "Queen of the Elves."
Until the end of the war, when the balance of victory between the North and South reversed after the Battle of Brenna, Emhyr and Francesca agreed, in order to preserve the fruits of victory already in hand, to pay thirty-two officers of the Vrihedd Brigade as the price. They handed them over to the North to vent their anger and hang, in exchange for the kingdoms recognizing Nilfgaard's de facto annexation of Cintra and the establishnt of Dol Blathanna's status as a duchy.
In the end, the elves successfully reclaid their holand. The forr "Queen of the Elves" now ruled Dol Blathanna as the "Lady of Dol Blathanna."
Francesca had fulfilled her promise to her people and restored an elven nation, but the surviving officer-subordinates who had been sacrificed mostly refused to return to Dol Blathanna, preferring to continue guerrilla operations in the North.
Because of that, if the local guerrilla commander still cared about old bonds, Toruviel's camp would be greatly respected and receive ample supplies.
But Yaevinn's hatred toward Francesca was even deeper than that of the direct victim in Flotsam, the forr commander of the Vrihedd Brigade, the vengeful spirit Iorveth. So their current situation could be considered being mired in mud.
From the elven woman's side narration, the young man preliminarily judged that Yaevinn was very likely serious this ti, intending to incite a riot in Vizima and make Teria feel pain.
His expression solemn, "Ah... feel pain!"
"What did you say? Why don't I understand?" Toruviel turned to look at Victor, completely puzzled. As an elf, it was rare for her not to understand sothing. Usually, she was the one using languages that others could not understand.
Angoulê, on the other hand, had heard Victor explain it before, so she took the initiative to help. "That's a Bell Town expression. It ans 'feel pain!' Because carrying a sack of rice up several floors is heavy, so you feel pain."
The leader, who had co back to himself, had just wanted to say that it was a slip of the tongue. Unexpectedly, his mber had already finished explaining, so he did not add anything unnecessary.
"So if possible, you want to leave, right?" Victor asked seriously.
Toruviel shook her head solemnly. "But without supplies, we cannot go far."
"What are friends for? Angoulê and I will solve the food problem! I'm not lying to you, we've made money in the city. Usually we wear gold and silver, with a big chicken leg in each hand, eating one and throwing one away!"
As he spoke, the young man winked and made faces, his expression vivid. The girl beside him also twisted her mouth in agreent, and the elven woman imdiately burst into loud laughter.
They played by splashing water at the lakeside, as if they had returned to the ti last year when they were still in Flotsam. All the unhappy parts had been forgotten, leaving only beauty in their mories.
...
In the afternoon, they tactfully declined Toruviel's offer to send soone to guide them. She herself was already a clay idol fording a river, and she also did not know how this negotiation would turn out, so there was no need to drag her in.
Proceeding in the direction the elven woman had pointed out, the Phantom Troupe actually presented themselves with quite a bit of dignity this ti. Not only were they not treated to crossbows and arrows, but after they had walked only a short distance, the bushes rustled, and an unfamiliar scout appeared. He bowed slightly, then wordlessly led the way ahead.
Angoulê shook her head. Victor knew what she ant. It seed that after a year apart, this old friend Yaevinn did not intend to turn hostile and deny their acquaintance. Or rather, even if he did, this scout did not know it.
But even the most ticulous plan would be exposed at the latest once they approached the camp. Eagle Vision's ability to detect hostility covered a radius of thirty yards, and it was simply so powerful there was nothing to say.
If the wild lass climbed to the top of a tree now and activated Eagle Vision from above, the detection aura would even expand to one hundred and twenty yards. It was completely at the level of cheating with the map revealed. Combined with all her repeated fortuitous encounters, sotis even the young man could not help suspecting that she possessed the fate of a world protagonist like Geralt or Ciri. Her only shortcoming was that she did not have "incredible alchemy"!
With light steps, as the three of them approached the camp, the rustling around them also grew denser. Angoulê's brows furrowed slightly, but she did not react excessively. Instead, she advanced calmly. Noticing this, Victor also set his worries down.
With so many nonhumans in the camp, it was impossible for there not to be elves who held hostility toward the Phantom Troupe. But as long as the distribution of hostility was not too dense, or approaching in an organized fashion, there was nothing to fuss about.
The scout's steps did not hesitate. They soon entered deep into the camp. The tent flap was lifted, and the instant Victor saw Yaevinn again, his heart filled with emotion.
He wore leather armor decorated with bear fur, a confident smile on his face. His signature phoenix eyes remained the sa, but his once-black, thick hair now had quite a few white strands mixed in.
He grinned. "Long ti no see! My friend Victor. It is good to see you safe and sound."
"In fact, if you hadn't screwed us over, we wouldn't have needed such a long ti before seeing each other again." Sitting down grandly in front of him, Victor noticed that there were quite a few guards inside the tent.
The smile turned into a bitter smile. "I am sorry for what happened."
"Perhaps. But if ti went back, you would still do the sa thing, wouldn't you?" After saying that, Victor sighed and gestured around. "Do we still need so many people accompanying us while we talk?"
"Sorry, I didn't notice. The aftermath of last year's bank incident made this head worth over a thousand orens. I have faced many assassinations!" Yaevinn touched his neck, his tone self-mocking, but he had no intention of making his n leave.
The young man suddenly felt a little uncomfortable, because the other party was clearly indicating that he did not trust him. In the past, the elf had been able to bring only one subordinate and cross half the jungle with him, observing how he hunted monsters. Yet now, even in his own camp, he preferred to keep his guards at his side!
That said, Victor admitted that he had no right to bla the other party for not trusting him. After all, he himself had never trusted Yaevinn either. He did not trust any leader of a hanse!
Putting aside his thoughts, the young man adjusted his tone into sothing lighter. "Karma, isn't it? Who told you to make so many landed nobles' heads hang white all at once! ...Forget it. For the sake of our past friendship, can you tell what exactly you want to do now? You can't really want to start a war, right?"
His phoenix eyes narrowed. Yaevinn's smile faded, and he crossed his arms.
...
Dusk was turning into night.
A small boat sailed north from the Swamp Village toward Vizima. At the bow of the last ferry, Victor sat cross-legged with his chin propped on his hand, recalling the conversation in the Scoia'tael camp.
Regarding that question, the elf had not answered directly. He had only advised the young man that, if he had nothing urgent, it would be best to leave, to go to Redania in the north, Skellige in the west, Aedirn in the east, or Kaedwen in the northeast. Anywhere was fine, just not Vizima. It seed that soone had once advised him to leave Vizima too...
"If you're this troubled, why didn't you just kill him earlier? With all the bombs opened up, there should have been a chance!" Angoulê, sitting beside him, asked.
Looking around and seeing no one nearby, Victor glared at her. "Kill him, then get chopped into minceat by his subordinates? Where did you get such noble self-sacrificing sentints? Hurry and tell who poisoned you?"
The mber cackled obscenely, probably because she had seen that the leader was troubled and made a joke to lighten the mood.
Reaching out and ssing up her hair, he said, "Besides, even if we succeeded, it would be useless. He is the spark, not the firewood. Kill one Yaevinn, and soon there will be a Yalvinn. Kill one Yalvinn, and then there will be a Yasannvin and a Yashivinn behind him.
"An assassination without reason would only sink us into a cycle of hatred and have no aning beyond that. With Eagle Vision watching him, even though our positions are opposed, didn't he also have no intention of killing us?"
Angoulê nodded, accepting the lesson. It would have been fine if the other party had shown hostility, and a preemptive counterattack would have been normal, but Yaevinn indeed had not turned red at all throughout the whole eting just now.
"The Troupe's rule is to act chivalrously, uphold justice, punish evil, and eliminate villains. Don't casually treat yourself as the savior. We'll stand farther away and keep our distance from this matter. Helping Toruviel get food first is more practical."
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