Chapter Twelve: Bernad, Do Not Weep for Me

Carefully considering Victor’s remarks, Lambert had to admit that Sabina was indeed a formidable sorceress. Ordinary witchers would have to show deference even to a local baron, but she was someone who could stand against kings themselves.

“However,” he pointed out, having found a blind spot, “even if the kings become suspicious of mages, what does that have to do with us?”

Victor was momentarily at a loss for words. He realized it was difficult to explain to Lambert just how complex the chain reactions could be; in truth, if he hadn’t seen the script for what was to come, he himself wouldn’t have thought it was such a big deal.

Who would ever believe this was the precursor to a nationwide witch hunt? His own foresight—before the authority of the mages had utterly collapsed—would sound unbelievable to others if spoken aloud.

“All right… Forget what I just said, let’s try another approach. In order to improve the Trial of the Grasses, I’ve been investigating renowned alchemists at the grand market. I discovered that in Vizima, there’s an alchemy master named Kalkstein who might be worth looking into… He could offer me some new ideas.”

Lambert waved his hand, signaling for Victor to continue his performance. He was curious to see what else Victor could come up with, and how well he could explain himself.

“I have a unique and secret process that lets me brew potions quickly, so the wealth I accumulate from selling them will save much more time in the future. As for studying amulets, that relates to my research into mage enchantments. That’s all!”

When the youth finished, he too waved his hand, signaling that his explanation was over, as if to say, “You have no idea how far-sighted and thorough Master Victor’s plans are.”

“Fine, it seems you’re at least making an effort in the right direction. I don’t really understand anything about improving the Trial of the Grasses; that’s between you and Vesemir. You two always act so mysterious about it.

So, is there anything I can do to help? Or are you planning to settle down here for a while? I was about to leave…” the witcher said.

“You’re almost out of money, aren’t you? Living expenses in Ban Ard aren’t low!” The youth bluntly exposed the truth. With Lambert’s financial habits unchanged, he would always be poor.

“Hey! Show your master some respect when you speak, apprentice!” Lambert was pleased to have apparently found a weakness in Victor. Since Victor intended to become a witcher, Lambert had obviously been promoted to master.

Expecting this, Victor replied calmly, “I’m Vesemir’s apprentice, same generation as you at best—maybe I can call you ‘senior,’ but it’s your duty as an elder to treat the younger generation to a meal, you know.”

“Tch! I’ll treat you to a feast, all right—a feast of steel sword! You can savor it with your whole body and soul.” The witcher demonstratively took his steel sword and laid it across his lap.

“Uh… Anyway, I plan to head to Vizima. Would you like to travel with me?” Victor decisively changed the subject; this old bastard truly would take revenge during sword practice if provoked any further.

Turning serious, Lambert replied, “If you want to reach the capital of Temeria, water routes are fastest. Head south to Fordin, board a boat, follow the Pontar River downstream, pass Floating Harbor to Lavallette Castle, then take the Ismena River straight to lakeside Vizima.”

Without hesitation, Victor said, “We’ll set off tomorrow.”

……

The next morning.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider staying? Our current business is righteous and thriving!” At the gate of Ban Ard, Brass had come especially to bid farewell, mourning the untimely end of his virility potion venture and making a final attempt to persuade Victor.

He was on the verge of tears—not because he was heartbroken, but because he hadn’t had enough time to enjoy the good life, only ten days of it… Despite their short acquaintance, the friendship built on mutual interest was still as solid as gold.

Though Sorcerer Dorregaray pretended to be amiable, Lambert still had no fondness for mages as a group, much less for this mercenary-looking one, whose deep lines made him look more like a scheming merchant than a mage.

So Lambert rode ahead, not wishing to take part in Victor and Brass’s parting.

“Honored Mr. Brass, forgive me for not staying—my journey compels me onward. Though our time together was short, it was most enjoyable, and I thank you for all your help,” Victor said, polite and formal.

Brass bowed slightly. “Well then! But no matter what, whenever you return to Ban Ard, ‘Raphad’s Decoctions’ will always welcome you.”

And so Victor left Ban Ard, though he did not let Brass’s send-off go unrewarded: a full sixty bottles of the virility potion, a limited supply to let Brass enjoy another ten days of the good life, at the cost of a pouch of coins and an exchanged horse.

Yes, Loyal Heart was given to Brass, traded for his mare. The decision was hasty but made with resolve, all because of an offhand comment from Lambert before their departure.

“Loyal Heart isn’t bad at all—not fast, but you look very steady and comfortable riding him…”

Realizing his earlier mischief had come back to haunt him, Victor decided on the spot to let Brass have Loyal Heart and take the mare instead, even if it meant accepting one less bag of coins.

……

Geographically, between Kaedwen and the southern power Aedirn lies the natural barrier of the Lormark Mountains. So when King Henselt set his sights on Upper Aedirn, Fordin—built at the mountain pass—became an unavoidable hurdle.

If Fordin fell, Upper Aedirn would be lost. Its strategic importance was akin to Jianmen Pass in Shu Han, Thermopylae for Sparta, or Shanhai Pass for Ming China.

Thus, last year’s recently concluded Second War for Upper Aedirn was also known as the Siege of Fordin.

This winding military road stretched from Ard Carraigh directly to the banks of the Pontar, facing Fordin across the river—built specifically for armies on the march.

A few days after leaving Ban Ard, riding along this road with the steady clip-clop of hooves, Lambert asked offhandedly, “Why did you suddenly want to change horses? I thought Loyal Heart would always be with you. People usually name their horses out of genuine affection, don’t they?”

“He’s old… I believe ending his days peacefully in a quiet town is what he would wish for,” Victor replied naturally, and by now he almost believed it himself.

“What about this horse? Are you going to keep calling her Loyal Heart? Like Geralt, who names every horse Roach?”

“No, she’s a girl—can’t call her Loyal Heart. Anyway, I won’t name her for now. Once you name a tool, you get attached.

Speaking of which, do you know the real impact of the Second War for Upper Aedirn?” With a cool evening breeze, Victor was suddenly in the mood to show off a little.

“What impact?”

“First, this road beneath our feet—after the armistice, it became a boon to traveling merchants and indirectly promoted international trade.”

Lambert considered this. “That makes sense.”

“Second, the destruction of order. During the war, Henselt’s so-called gallant knights and brave soldiers devastated everything north of the Pontar, leaving the land barren.

Do you know what these two factors combined mean?”

Victor didn’t expect an answer; it was a rhetorical question, the classic prelude to showing off.

Unexpectedly, Lambert replied crisply and with utter confidence, “There’ll be a surge in banditry and lawlessness!”

Victor was momentarily stunned—he’d thought only he could deduce that. Who would have thought that, beneath Lambert’s rough exterior, he could reach the same conclusion?

“How did you know?” Victor stared at him in surprise. Today, the old bastard was truly impressive.

The witcher looked at Victor with regal disdain and pointed ahead. “Because I can see it, idiot. Use your eyes!”

Not far away, a carriage had been overturned. Three—no, four—armed bandits surrounded it, their cruel faces just visible.