The witcher and the vampire washed the blood off themselves by the lakeside.
"Seriously... I know you two were sparring, but did you really have to spill blood all over the place? Was there any need to take it so seriously?" Angoulême grumbled incessantly. "And Regis, are you sure you're all right with such a huge hole in your chest?"
Victor continued cleaning himself, too lazy to pay the girl any attention.
Regis, on the other hand, patted her back reassuringly. "Don't worry about my injuries. Vic didn't apply any blade oils or potions. Look! The wound has already closed and is healing."
The vitality of a higher vampire was truly astonishing. After a few dozen minutes of rest, the penetrating wound inflicted by the dagger had recovered remarkably well. All that remained was for Regis to change his torn, bloodstained clothing.
The witcher, by contrast, was covered from head to toe in an impressive assortment of cuts, both deep and shallow. Although he had drunk a Swallow potion and applied medicinal poultices, it would still take at least twelve hours for him to make a full recovery.
Recalling the course of the battle, Victor tightened his bandages to stop the bleeding.
This hadn't been the most dangerous battle he'd ever experienced, since his life had never been at risk, but his opponent had undoubtedly been the strongest.
Whenever he'd encountered powerful enemies in the past, he'd usually relied on Lightning Reflexes, using superior speed and strength to overwhelm their exceptional techniques.
Against a higher vampire, however, the situation had been completely reversed. With both his speed and strength outclassed, he'd managed to hold his ground entirely through his mastery of swordsmanship.
It had been an exceptionally valuable experience, a trial from which he'd gained a great deal. Moreover, it had allowed the witcher to experience firsthand just how wide the gap between himself and a higher vampire truly was.
According to Regis, Dettlaff was currently in a weakened state after sacrificing his blood essence to resurrect his companion. Even so, Dettlaff was still in considerably better condition than Regis himself, who was supposedly on the verge of death.
Hmm... That's right. The formidable old man who had beaten him so thoroughly that he'd almost been reduced to crouching with his arms over his head had described his own condition as being on the verge of death...
Clearly, one couldn't judge everyone's physical constitution by the same standards. In that case, negotiations should definitely take priority whenever possible!
Pulling on his coat, Victor stretched his limbs.
"Shall we start brewing the Resonance potion now?"
"No." Regis shook his head. "Actually, we're still missing an ingredient. I'd previously considered experimenting with other substances to see whether they could serve as substitutes, but our battle has certainly gotten my blood pumping. Why don't we simply go and settle the matter directly?"
The herbalist's manner was gentle and cheerful. The witcher had no objections to his suggestion, and his young apprentice naturally had even fewer.
And so, after the three departed, tranquility returned to the lakeside.
...
A gentle breeze swept across the water, disturbing the moon's reflection beneath the surface.
Cicadas chirped plaintively in the chilly autumn night.
This was the palace garden in Beauclair, the capital of Toussaint.
Horace de Funés, the eldest son of the vice president of the Coopers' Guild.
As a well-known member of the second generation of the barrel-making elite, he had always considered himself a man of considerable worldly experience.
Compared with his good friend Guillaume de Launfal, who was constantly falling hopelessly in love, Horace had at least lived up to his privileged upbringing. He was a promising young man, capable, efficient, and exceptionally competent at handling affairs.
But now, he had to admit that he was still far too young.
Like some inexperienced lad, he didn't even dare raise his head and look directly at the woman before him.
Simply because she was too beautiful, and far too dangerous.
The woman sitting beside the pond was engrossed in reading a dossier. Her black, wavy hair fell naturally around her shoulders. Her full, luscious lips, the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, her black-and-white attire, and the arrogance of someone accustomed to looking down on others made her resemble an orca patrolling the depths of the ocean.
Never before had he so desperately wished for Her Enlightened Ladyship to appear, or for Captain Damien to come to his rescue.
Anything, as long as he didn't have to remain alone with this woman!
The scent of lilac and gooseberries filling his nostrils made Horace feel as though he were sitting on pins and needles. His chest felt tight, and breathing had become difficult.
...Could this actually be my ideal type!?
Perhaps the heavens had heard his prayers, for his torment didn't last much longer.
Footsteps sounded at the garden entrance.
Duchess Anna Henrietta appeared with graceful steps, accompanied by Damien de la Tour, captain of the Ducal Guard.
Upon seeing the two of them, Horace felt as though he'd been granted a royal pardon. He quickly bowed and withdrew from the garden.
Noticing the deputy captain's rather disheveled departure, Anna Henrietta raised her delicate eyebrows.
"Sorceress, what did you do to him?"
The woman who smelled of lilac and gooseberries smiled seductively.
"Your Enlightened Ladyship, I haven't done anything at all. I haven't even spoken to him. If you don't believe me, you're welcome to send someone to question the young man."
Anna Henrietta frowned.
Her first impression was that she didn't like this woman.
That aggressively beautiful appearance reminded her of succubi and all those other wicked women who had tried to seduce Dandelion.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, the duchess decided not to pursue the matter.
After all, this sorceress had been sent by her cousin, Emhyr var Emreis, to help her eliminate the Beast.
With the Third Northern War still raging, it was already quite remarkable that he could spare a thought for his cousin's troubles.
"Sorceress, state your name."
"Yennefer. Yennefer of Vengerberg."
"Very well, Yennefer. What assistance can you provide regarding the Beast? Also, do you know Fringilla Vigo? Do you have any idea what she's been doing in the City of Golden Towers?"
Fringilla?
She was quite fortunate, actually. At present, she was staying in the luxurious suite Yennefer had previously occupied, enjoying the comforts of house arrest under a magic-suppressing enchantment.
Calling her fortunate was entirely appropriate.
If not for their familial connection, she would have suffered the same fate as Assire, executed by the White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes.
The sorceress mocked the situation inwardly, a teasing smile appearing on her face.
"I have indeed met Lady Vigo, but I'm afraid I don't know her current whereabouts. His Imperial Majesty seems to have other important arrangements for her.
"As for how we should go about hunting down the Beast responsible for murdering those noble knights... Before Your Grace arrived, I had just finished reading the classified dossier outlining the theory behind the Five Virtues Murders.
"I must say, whoever proposed this theory possesses quite an imagination. Among countless idiots, he's one of the few who's slightly less idiotic than the rest.
"I would like to meet this Dragonborn, witcher, or should I say Viscount Corion, as soon as possible. Whatever title he prefers is immaterial. The important thing is that we meet without delay."
"Ahem. I'm afraid that won't be possible," Captain Damien replied stiffly.
"Victor finished examining the evidence this morning and concluded that we still have some time before the next incident. Afterward, he left the city to conduct further investigations. Nobody knows where his party is at present."
Damien disliked this sorceress.
He'd disliked her from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on her.
It wasn't that he harbored any prejudice against sorceresses. Rather, it was the subtle arrogance she displayed when speaking to the duchess.
Just like now.
"So you're telling me you can't even find him!? Good heavens! I must say, Her Enlightened Ladyship is far too lenient.
"Well then, when in Toussaint, do as the Toussaintians do. I humbly request that Your Grace provide me with a comfortable room, a bed that is neither too hard nor too soft, and plenty of clean, hot water.
"The long journey has left my hair terribly tangled, and I need to comb it out as soon as possible.
"Then, starting tomorrow, I'll question the knights who have had dealings with Victor, one by one, and search for clues concerning the Beast."
Feeling somewhat suffocated by the sorceress's remarks, Anna Henrietta took a deep breath.
"Do whatever you please. All I care about is bringing this entire affair to an end as quickly as possible!"
The woman named Yennefer placed a hand over her chest and inclined her head.
"As you wish."
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