A few days later, in the ancient keep of Kaer Morhen, Victor's Alchemy Workshop.
Victor handed the potion to Geralt. "Don't worry. It was only a light injury to begin with. This pink one was specially brewed for her by me. It doesn't contain any of the ingredients that trigger magical allergies, so she should improve noticeably after drinking it."
"Vic... thank you. Sorry to trouble you again." Thanking him as he accepted the vial, the white-haired witcher turned and left.
For the past few days, Geralt had been taking care of Triss the entire time. His duties included, but were not limited to, fetching medicine, feeding her, cleaning up, talking with her, and so on. A true full-time caretaker.
The reason he had to fetch medicine was Triss's constitution. She was allergic to magic and could not even use magical potions she had made herself. But to Victor, that made no difference at all. At his core, he was a pure alchemist, and his finished products did not contain the slightest trace of magic.
Sitting nearby, Angoulême waited until the White Wolf had shut the door and gone a fair distance away before grumbling unhappily, "Vic... I'm so upset. Uncle Geralt doesn't remember me at all. I got all worked up and rushed here for nothing!"
Victor yawned and continued preparing Leo's medicine. "What's there to complain about? He doesn't remember anyone. And believe me, he himself definitely wants his memory back more than anyone."
"But it's too different. Amnesia is terrifying. The man now and the Uncle Geralt I knew... they're practically not the same person." The girl looked listless.
"You've only known Geralt for a few years. How long were you even around him?" the boy replied mercilessly. "Vesemir, who raised him, would definitely say yes. Eskel, who grew up with him, agrees. Lambert, who got taught by him, would nod too. If they all say he's the White Wolf, who are you to question it?"
"Hey! That's too much. I'm not saying I doubt him, it's just... the difference in how he acts hurts. And that last night in Rivia, I saw Uncle Geralt and Lady Yennefer together. They were like a married couple still madly in love. But now..."
At that point, she seemed to notice something and abruptly stopped complaining. The corners of her mouth rose, and her expression turned subtly strange.
The moment Victor saw that look, he shook his head.
A world-famous image, the sleazy grin of a young girl.
...
Just a short distance above Victor's Alchemy Workshop was the room Triss was staying in.
The sorceress's room was the "best" one in Kaer Morhen. The furnishings inside were refined enough, but the tables, chairs, cabinets, screens, and bath made of raw wood were all just standard features of the keep, nothing worth being surprised about.
What truly made this room the "best" was this, the four-poster solid wood European country-style raised double canopy bed, Shadow Copy.
Depending on size, it could support four to six people at once. That was the true pride of Kaer Morhen, proof that it was the "best."
Its designer, Mr. Victor Corion, when asked to reflect on his design philosophy, gave the following statement: "Witchers are all robust, powerfully built men, and sometimes when they're close enough, they need to share a bed, so it's better if the bed is made sturdier."
Sadly, after it was finished, the Four-Poster Shadow Chamber had never actually been used, until this visit from Triss. Only to make the sorceress feel truly at home had Vesemir opened it for her use.
And although she had already been staying in it for several days, Triss still found it fresh and novel. After all, the Kaer Morhen she remembered had been so worn down and shabby that she had fully prepared herself to suffer through the stay. Yet to her surprise, the renovated keep was actually comfortably above the acceptable line, and this bed especially, it was wonderfully large and comfortable.
"It's hard to imagine. Victor made all this furniture himself." Having finished her medicine, the sorceress sat propped against pillows on the bed and let out a satisfied sigh.
Geralt chuckled softly. "I think it's incredible too. I wonder what Bell Town is like, to raise a child this talented."
After Triss finished the potion, the White Wolf sat on the edge of the bed and kept her company while she recovered.
"Thank you for taking care of me these past few days, Geralt. Do you know that? I'm so happy you came back."
"Triss, there's no need to thank me... that's what I should do. And I'm grateful for everything you did over the past month to help me recover my memory."
They held each other's gaze for a moment. Then Triss reached out and took Geralt's hand.
"Do you know something? Thank magic for bringing you back to me. I suppressed those feelings once. I learned how to forget. But when I saw you again, every feeling I once tried to deny came rushing back, and even stronger than before."
"..."
Sensing the witcher's helpless uncertainty, the sorceress released his hand.
"Of course, I shouldn't pressure you. I just... miss you so much. So, so much. Gods, I sound like some lovestruck girl now.
Let's talk about the attack instead. When I fainted that day, I suppose I disappointed all of you. Forgive me..."
Geralt shook his head. "That wasn't your fault. You helped us. There's nothing to apologize for. I have to admit, when I saw you get hurt, I was genuinely afraid... afraid that I might lose you because of it."
Triss's smile bloomed like a flower. "Geralt!"
The witcher turned his face away, not daring to meet the bright sheen in her eyes.
Geralt might retreat, but Triss would not.
She was the Fourteenth of the Hill, Fearless Merigold.
"Say it again. I missed you so much, Geralt.
Let's see whether Kaer Morhen's best bed can handle the weight of two people..."
The Four-Poster Shadow Copy accepted the challenge.
...
As the world-famous image, the sleazy grin of a young girl, gradually evolved into the grin of a girl with deeply inappropriate thoughts, or rather a plainly lustful smile, Victor finally could not take it any longer. He grabbed a stirring rod and smacked at her. Angoulême reacted just in time and dodged with astonishing speed.
"Damn it, your smile is way too disgusting. Is spying on other people doing it really that entertaining?" The boy missed and could only curse irritably.
The girl rubbed her nose. "It's all right, I guess. Vic, you don't know, back in Rivia everyone got along so well. I really never guessed Triss was this kind of person. She actually stole her best friend's man. When Yennefer was around, she never dared flirt with Uncle Geralt."
Hearing Angoulême complain, Victor could only find it funny.
As for Yennefer, he already had plenty of memories from his past life, and in this life Lambert and the other witchers had also provided firsthand information. The relationship between Geralt and Yennefer could only be described as complicated beyond words.
And Triss had entered the picture during one of their breakups. In his earlier years, Geralt had been wildly promiscuous and could be called ruthlessly detached afterward. So if anyone wanted to argue over who counted as the true main partner, Victor refused to comment.
Besides, unless something unexpected killed them, all three of them had very long lifespans. Triss might look youthful and radiant, but she was still the kind of girl who was already over a hundred. With love affairs stretching across decades like this, who knew what the future would bring.
In any case, Victor had long since decided to stand as far away as possible from their emotional entanglements. He heard nothing, saw nothing, knew absolutely nothing.
But Angoulême's righteous indignation did not fit the Phantom Troupe's values. If she got dragged into this, she would only end up offending everyone involved. So Victor decided to correct her, and the argument he needed was ready-made.
"Why do you care so much? You saw Yennefer die with your own eyes. Even if they had once been married, your Uncle Geralt would count as a widower now. And anyway, they weren't married. Is it really that strange for him to find a new girlfriend?"
Victor knew Yennefer was still alive, and that she had a great deal more story ahead of her, but no one else knew that.
"But Uncle Geralt has amnesia now. Maybe widowed Uncle Geralt doesn't actually want a girlfriend!"
"And you said maybe. Even Ciri wouldn't voice an opinion on this sort of thing. This is their private life, their love life.
What right do we have to stop them? What does it have to do with us? If two people like each other and want to be together, there's nothing strange about that. And if it were something that could be interfered with, then during the month before we arrived, why didn't Vesemir and the others stop them?"
"All right... actually, I'm worried Triss will get hurt. Back in Rivia, that Yennefer was terrifying."
"They were in love long before you were born. Believe me, they'll still be sleeping together long after you're dead. So don't get involved in their love-hate mess."
As she listened to Victor's words, Angoulême suddenly realized something, the boy was going to become a witcher.
Which meant he would live a very long time, so long that by the time she grew old and died, he would still be young and full of life, just like Lambert.
Lowering her head, the girl suddenly did not want to speak anymore.
The member had gone quiet, and thinking he had simply won the argument, the captain did not think much of it. He just continued with his alchemical work.
A short while later,
"Ugh... ah..." A low groan came from the apprentice on the bed. It seemed he was finally regaining consciousness.
Smiling in satisfaction, Victor waved for Angoulême to go notify Vesemir, while he himself walked over to examine the patient.
The apprentice opened his eyes and looked at the unfamiliar boy before him.
"Hey, Leo, I'm Victor. Can you see clearly? How many fingers am I holding up?"
"...You haven't even raised your hand."
...
Leo regaining consciousness was, of course, good news. It meant that this attack on Kaer Morhen had not caused irreversible damage.
But that only brought them back around to the same conclusion as before. A combination of mages and bandits stealing together almost certainly meant they intended to abuse the Grass Draught. So the witchers' secret, the formula for the Trial of the Grasses, had to be taken back.
After checking on Leo and reminding him to rest properly, Victor stepped outside the workshop to exchange views with Vesemir.
"Master, please take a look at this note first." Victor handed Vesemir the Kill Order.
Vesemir accepted the paper and read its contents. The blood-soaked latter half aside, the first half alone was chilling enough. Once the groundwork had been laid, the boy began to explain his thoughts.
"About this attack, I actually think there are a lot of suspicious points. Don't you find it strange, Master? We know now that the villains were after the Grass Draught formula.
But how did they know we had it?
And how did they make it through the Trail?
I still remember clearly what Eskel told me when we left last year, without a guide, the Trail is a natural maze.
But now such a large number of enemies managed to gather silently near the keep. That could only happen if they had precise directions. From this note, you can even tell that they assembled in groups."
Vesemir frowned. "So what are you trying to say, Vic?"
"I want to know whether, besides the few of us, there are any other witchers of the School of the Wolf, or anyone who once lived at Kaer Morhen for a long time."
As he spoke, Victor noticed that Angoulême was standing behind the master, wearing that extremely punchable expression again. Clearly she was once more using Eagle Eye Vision to analyze the rhythm of the two people upstairs.
In an era with no proper entertainment industry, it could basically be understood as watching a fully uncensored adult film, soft lighting, but perfectly clear outlines.
Completely unaware that someone was effectively watching a show over his shoulder, the old witcher master asked gravely, "So your meaning is?"
"I suspect we've got a traitor in our midst." Thanks to Angoulême, the expression on Victor's face was slightly twisted at that moment, from trying too hard not to laugh.
Vesemir stroked his beard in thought. The contrast between his solemn expression and Angoulême's face behind him was so intense that Victor felt he was almost at his breaking point.
Fortunately, before he burst out laughing, the master finally spoke in a low voice. "Berengar, a witcher of the School of the Wolf. We haven't seen him in several years. If what you're implying is true, then he may be the most likely traitor."
"What kind of person is he?"
"Berengar was an introvert, used to acting alone. He rarely spoke with the others. In fact, no one could truly claim to know Berengar, not even Lambert or Eskel.
Back then, after the Trial of the Grasses, he had a very hard time accepting his fate and truly beginning his training.
He never wanted to be a witcher. He often talked about leaving Kaer Morhen, though in the end he always came back."
That was a deeply suspicious target. Victor committed the name to memory.
"Do you know roughly where he's active now?"
"I don't. We've lost contact with him for quite some time. If you hadn't asked, I wouldn't even have thought of him. It wasn't unheard of for him to go several years without coming back."
...
Soon, a few more days passed. In front of the keep, the witchers stood fully equipped, steel sword, silver sword, leather armor, and horse. For now, they would be splitting up to search for the mage and the Professor.
Vesemir stood beside the bridge, giving his final instructions. "Children, we still don't know where those bandits came from, nor who is backing them, so for now we explore separately. If any of you find something, contact the nearest companion immediately. Do not take risks alone."
Eskel swung himself up onto his horse, which he had gained through the Law of Surprise. Its name was Scorpion. "I'll head west to Redania. I know people there, and I like the climate by the coast better anyway."
Lambert spread his hands. "Then I'll head east into Kaedwen, unless anyone objects."
Knowing Geralt did not have a plan yet, Vesemir assigned one himself. "White Wolf, go southwest into Temeria. King Foltest owes you a favor. Long ago, you lifted the curse from his daughter. You may find traces of that gang of robbers there.
And don't worry, Angoulême will look after you along the way."
Triss looked radiant and full of life again. She immediately added, "Don't worry, Vesemir. I'll use my own influence to help search for those bandits as well. If I find anything, I'll let Geralt know."
As for the two staying behind, Vesemir would remain in the keep to train Leo, while Victor would prepare the Grass Draught. After nearly dying this time, the apprentice's resolve had only grown firmer, and he was desperate to undergo the Trial of the Grasses the moment his body recovered.
For Victor, this was another rare opportunity after Luf. He had confidence in the new version of the Grass Draught. Leo's body was well prepared, and with Vesemir adjusting the details, the odds of success were extremely high.
And one successful experiment would bring him a wealth of experience.
So the Phantom Troupe would once again be operating separately for a short while.
Before parting, the captain held on to his member and warned her over and over. This trip came with no prophetic knowledge of the plot, and the boy did not know whether any major incident would happen.
All he could do was keep emphasizing that if anything went wrong, she was to run first. She was absolutely not to worry about Geralt. That disaster-defying child of fate was no joke. On the other hand, Angoulême had already gone down under him once before, which proved her luck was not sturdy enough.
And on the other side, the long-lived couple were also saying their reluctant goodbyes.
Triss said, "I'll gather information as fast as I can, then meet up with you in Vizima."
The witcher drew her into his arms.
"Don't do this, Geralt. I hate partings. I'm already close to tears, and tears are the most miserable thing for a sorceress."
She gently pushed him away.
"Travel safely, Geralt. I can't bear to lose you again. I'll see you in Vizima."
The portal flared open, and Triss vanished into the open wilderness.
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