—
Whether his decision would prove right or wrong in the future, Gustave couldn't tell. But one thing he knows at this very moment — when the gears of destiny had just begun to turn for the Blood and Wine DLC — this was the perfect time to interfere with Syanna's fate. If he waited any longer, she would likely already be in Nazair.
And by that point, the window of opportunity to influence the timeline would have closed, as she would have become an untraceable bandit. Coupled with the fact that she would then have Dettlaff as her protector, any attempt to use her would almost certainly meet a swift and bloody end.
Moreover, for the sake of the Witcher 3 fanboy within him, it simply didn't sit right to see both Dettlaff and Regis — beings of immense power — become collateral damage in the manipulative drama of a lovey-dovey sisterly reunion within Toussaint's monarchy, should destiny follow its original course.
Because of that, Gustave turned to his maids and instructed them to bring him to Reynard Odo. As he was carried toward the only man he could truly trust, he began to put on his usual "toddler act" — a guise that had always proven useful whenever he wanted something. After all, no adult could resist spoiling him when faced with that cherubic, innocent face.
"Uncle, Uncle Odo! Here, here!"
Reynard, who had been in the middle of discussing with one of his men about halting the voyage for a few days — to find a druid to heal Caldwell and a Witcher to confirm whether the explosion had been man-made rather than Caldwell's own blunder — stopped mid-conversation upon hearing the young prince's call.
Approaching the adorable Gustave, whose sharp and benevolent mind shone even at such a young age, Reynard smiled warmly and asked, "What's the matter, little prince? Do you wish to buy something? I'm afraid, though, that you won't find any books in this Angren port."
Pausing for a moment to find the right words for a child, Reynard added with a chuckle, "Because… well, there are many bad people here. And bad people don't read books."
"No books? Ahh… okay then. Oh yes, yes! But bad people — I see them! Here, here!"
Raising an eyebrow, surprised that Prince Gustave was already capable of judging people — likely a result of the incident in Rivia that had forced him to mature early — Reynard followed the prince.
As they walked, he couldn't help but ask the young prince, who was being carried by his maids, to confirm again, "Are you certain, Prince Gustave? Do you see wicked people?"
"Yes, yes! Pulling hair like… like Caldbell's bad man who hurt Nana! Ah, there, there! Uncle Odo, see it?"
Frowning as he followed the direction of the prince's finger, Reynard's expression hardened. He saw a helpless, starving girl in ragged clothes being dragged by the hair by four armored figures.
He was about to order his men to charge in and rescue the poor girl — but then stopped short when he noticed the insignia on the knights' armor. Recognizing them as Ducal's own Toussaintois Knight-Errants, he immediately realized they were on official duty.
If he interfered, the entire incident could escalate into a matter of state — something Queen Meve was in no position to handle at the moment.
Yet as Reynard looked back at the young prince, he realized this could serve as a valuable lesson — one that might shape Gustave into a truly benevolent ruler who genuinely loved his people. Because of that, Reynard was certain Queen Meve would understand.
Moreover, if the young prince were to see him ignore such injustice, Reynard could easily imagine the consequences. With Gustave's growing intelligence and awareness of the world's moral grayness, he might one day become a ruler who followed only cold logic — one who, having seen indifference from a young age, would learn to value efficiency over empathy.
And if that day came, Reynard feared the prince might choose to sell out his own realm for pragmatic reasons, believing it the most rational decision — becoming an emotionless man who had lost all sense of kinship with Lyria, Rivia, and their people.
So, nodding toward the prince, Reynard smiled and said, "Yes, Prince Gustave. I see it. And such behavior is not tolerated under our knightly code of conduct. So, Prince Gustave, allow me to free that poor girl from her suffering."
Nodding enthusiastically like a pecking chicken, Gustave exclaimed, "Yes, yes, yes! Save the black-haired sister from the bad guys!"
Turning around, Reynard winked at his men, intent on teaching the young prince a valuable lesson. His men, instantly understanding his signal, straightened their posture and adopted the solemn demeanor of true knights — even though, in truth, they were merely common folk who could never quite live up to the fairy tales told of chivalry.
But for the sake of the little prince — to nurture his belief in virtue and valor — they chose, just for this moment, to become the kind of knights every child dreams of.
"A sword's worth is not measured by how many it cuts down, but by whom it shields. For every cry we answer, for every innocent we defend, the realm itself grows nobler. Let those who wear armor remember why it was forged: not for pride, not for coin, but for the powerless who have none to stand for them."
And let the youngest among us"— Reynard's gaze lingered briefly on the little prince cradled in his maids' arms — "hear this and remember: true knighthood is not the art of killing, but the courage to protect, even when the world mocks you for it."
"Let's save the lass, brave warriors! For Lyria and Rivia! For King Reginald!"
"For Lyria and Rivia! For King Reginald!"
Inwardly cringing at Reynard's speech — clearly meant to teach him about knightly virtue — Gustave outwardly could only play the part of an excited toddler. Yet, even with the best acting he could muster, he couldn't suppress the shiver of sheer embarrassment that ran through him.
'Endure, Gustave. Endure. Just four more years, and I can finally start acting like an adult again.'
Fortunately, from Reynard's and his men's perspectives, his trembling seemed like excitement rather than secondhand embarrassment. With that ordeal behind him, Gustave watched as Reynard and a group of guards descended to the dock to confront the Toussaintois Knight-Errants.
What followed was a heated exchange — "official duty to exile the devil's spawn" clashing against "no true knight would treat a girl like that." The argument soon escalated into a four-on-four duel. Though Reynard had more men at his disposal, he chose to propose a formal duel, the winner claiming the girl, to avoid unnecessary escalation.
Gustave understood Reynard's reasoning — to minimize any political fallout between Toussaint and the Twin Realms, since interfering with an official duty was nearly tantamount to declaring war.
Still, he wasn't particularly worried about Toussaint's retaliation. From what he knew, the duchy was far too drunk on wine, festivals, and passion to harbor any real ambition beyond its own borders.
Even though the Blood and Wine DLC's notes mentioned that Victor Tremblay was responsible for Toussaint's ignorance of the outside world, Gustave knew for certain that this self-indulgent detachment — their drunkenness in their own little fantasy — had taken root centuries before Tremblay ever became a minister.
More precisely, it began when vampires started raising the Toussaintois like livestock. They discovered that to enhance the quality of the blood they craved, their prey needed to live in a state of constant happiness.
And so, by ensuring Toussaint remained perpetually merry—with endless wine, lavish festivals, and indulgent pleasures—the vampires created a land overflowing with blissful, premium-quality blood, without ever needing to hunt for it.
Later, Duchess Adela Marta's insistence on instilling the chivalric virtues of Strength, Valor, and Cunning into Toussaint's culture—celebrated through festivals and knightly rewards—cemented the duchy's transformation. Over time, it became what it is now: a realm blissfully ignorant of the outside world, content to live within its self-made dream.
Because of that, whether Syanna lived or died, whether she ever took up arms or not, it mattered little to them — for they could not see the consequences that far ahead. Thus, by tradition and history, Toussaint had long been shooting itself in the foot, content to blind itself to the reality beyond its borders.
The only reason the duchy had survived unscathed through the ages was sheer luck — its early alliance with Nilfgaard and its geographic isolation, which spared it from the wars of conquest that ravaged other realms.
And the main reason, as Gustave deduced, was that the Unseen Elder — who despised being disturbed — resided there. Any attempt to wage war within Toussaint would likely be intercepted by another higher vampire or one of the ancient ones long before it could reach the Elder's domain.
Shaking his head, already entertaining thoughts of annexing Toussaint yet knowing such dreams were nothing more than fleeting thought, Gustave turned his attention back to Reynard's men, who were now gaining the upper hand against the four Toussaintois Knight-Errants.
Driven by sheer determination and a sense of duty to both Lyria and Rivia — and perhaps also by his desire to give Gustave a "moral education" — Reynard managed to secure a narrow victory, personally defeating two of the knights himself.
As the four enemy swords clattered to the ground, Gustave cheered loudly for Reynard and his men, joined by the entourage of nobles who had gathered to witness the duel. When Syanna was handed over as the prize for victory, he once again congratulated Reynard and his men as they returned to the deck.
"Uncle, Uncle Odo! You're awesome! C-can I do that?!"
Still catching his breath after the intense fight, Reynard wheezed and smiled. "Yes… Your… Highness… you certainly… can do… what I did…"
"And you think— you think I can save suffering people too?"
"Certainly… Your Highness… I believe you… also can—"
"And—and can I defeat the bad guys?"
"Abso—hah… hah… absolutely… Prince Gustave—"
"And can I—"
Seeing Gustave's endless eagerness, refusing to give him even a moment to breathe after what was likely the most exhausting duel of his life, Reynard nearly felt his heart give out. Thankfully, Prince Anséis came to his rescue.
"Yes, little brother! You can! And what's more, there's no need for Uncle Odo to step in — I can teach you myself! Isn't your brother amazing?"
Clicking his tongue inwardly at losing the chance to tease Odo further, Gustave had no choice but to play along with his middle brother. As his maids set him down, he ran to Anséis, tugging his shirt like an excited duckling. "Really?! Brother Anséis can sword sword?! Teach me, teach me!"
"Hehehe, alright, alright. I'll teach you myself. But remember — even in training, when you wield a sword, you must be careful and listen to me. Understood?"
"Understood, understood!"
Leaving the rescued Syanna in his maids' care, Gustave followed Anséis to begin his sword training — intentionally pretending to forget the girl he had just saved, like a hyperactive toddler with no attention span, so as not to raise suspicion that the rescue had been deliberate.
—
After playing with his middle brother for a while — with Anséis mostly showing off rather than actually teaching — Gustave finally managed to return to his cabin and refocus his attention on Syanna. Before meeting her in person, he began weighing the benefits and costs of taking her in as a subordinate.
After some thought, Gustave decided that since he couldn't fully trust someone like her, he would treat Syanna as a hands-off subordinate, not a cultivated subordinate like his four maids.
In other words, she would be someone he saved out of an act of benevolence — but once saved, he would leave her somewhere safe, give her enough money to survive, and ride off into the night without ever looking back.
Then, years later, when both of them were older, he imagined meeting her again — with her feeling indebted and seeking a way to repay him. That was the kind of subordinate Gustave wanted Syanna to be: not someone constantly at his side, but someone who would appear only when he truly needed her.
With that train of thought settled, Gustave leaned close and whispered into Rosemary's ear, instructing her to act naturally in front of others. Though he hadn't yet informed his other three maids, he hoped that after living with him for so long, they would be able to pick up on his cues whenever he pretended to be innocent.
When Rosemary opened the door to his cabin, Gustave widened his eyes in feigned surprise at the sight of Syanna. Jumping down from his maid's arms, he ran toward the quiet girl and declared proudly, pointing at himself with the confidence only a toddler could muster.
"Black-haired sister, black-haired sister! I saved you, I saved you! Uncle Odo was there because me!"
Syanna, just emerging from her daze — haunted by the memory of her parents' cold stares and her sister's silence — looked at the toddler who had saved her. She wanted to thank him for his intervention, but the words died on her tongue. She was afraid — afraid of being betrayed again.
"Black-haired sister! You know?! When I grow up, I'll be a knight! Like Uncle Odo!"
She wanted to scoff, to tell him that knights were hypocrites — that their chivalric virtues were nothing more than hollow words meant to polish their image. But she stopped herself. What would be the point of telling such things to a child? Only children still believed in tales of noble knights.
"Hmm… black-haired sister, why does your cheek look like a skull?"
Instinctively, she reached for her own face — her sunken cheeks, the result of long days of starvation when even tree bark had to serve as food. Looking into the boy's eyes, she wanted to answer… but she held her tongue. Explaining such things to a toddler would only go in one ear and out the other. Perhaps someday, he would understand. But not now.
"Is black-haired sister mute?"
A simple, "No."
The moment she spoke, the toddler jumped for joy, delighted to hear her voice. But that one word proved to be her undoing — for hours afterward, she was bombarded with endless questions and childish stories. Most of the time, she could barely understand what he was saying; his toddler's pronunciation turned every sentence into a puzzle.
And yet, in the midst of that constant chatter — the laughter, the innocent excitement — Syanna felt something she hadn't known she'd been longing for: respite.
Respite from beatings. From insults. From the hunger that had driven her to despair.
That night, beneath a half-moon, as she drifted to sleep beside her little savior, one thought passed through her weary mind:
'He's just like Anna Henrietta… before everything…'
—