Chapter Thirty-Five: The Goddess Meritelis Sees All

Traveling is never as easy as simply setting off, even a thousand years from now. Many destinations are places one visits only once in a lifetime, giving rise to that well-known phrase of indulgence: "Since we're already here, we might as well..." With this in mind, the girl found herself unable to appreciate the scenery by the shores of the Azure Lake. Perhaps she didn't realize it herself, but this would likely be her only chance to visit this place again—a pity, considering it was a site jointly recommended by the locals of Erland.

Shaking off unnecessary regrets, she brushed away Angoulême's hand as he tried to support her. "You should go first, take Catherine and leave this place. We can't stay in Erland any longer!" Victor's voice was weak, but his resolve was firm.

"What!? Why do I have to leave?" The idea of separating, and worse, leaving first, startled Angoulême. "If we throw that bastard into the lake, no one will ever know!"

Victor coughed twice. "It's useless. The suspicion would be too obvious, and someone knows he came to the lake to find me."

The girl was still puzzled. "Then why can't we leave together?"

The boy shook his head. "If we leave together, no one stays behind to explain, and the story becomes whatever the Earl of Falwick says it is. Soon enough, I'll be wanted for murder. I still have much to do in Temeria—I cannot become a criminal."

"But I can't just abandon you!" Angoulême understood rationally, but emotionally she could not accept it.

Victor put on a stern face. "Listen well. I want you to leave first because you were the one who acted. I never laid a hand on him and can bluff my way through. All those days in the Melitele Temple, all the books in the library were not read in vain. There are divine rituals that can prove my innocence.

So, Angoulême, this matters greatly to us. As leader of the Phantom Caravan, I command you... go ahead to Vizima, and then I need you to..."

Victor spoke at length, detailing what Angoulême should be mindful of on the road to Vizima, what he hoped she'd do upon entering the city, various preparations, and his earnest expectations—making it clear that her role was weighty, not merely an escape or evasion of risk.

...

After much persuasion, he finally sent Angoulême away. Resting by the lakeside for a moment, Victor stretched, packed the alchemical materials she'd brought into his herb pouch, and walked over to Tyrell's corpse.

Though the knight's face, pierced eight times, could hardly be called peaceful—one extra hole a third eye given by the girl to his forehead—at least all three eyes had closed at last.

He picked up the faceplate, only slightly deformed by the impact, so sturdy it must have been mixed with black steel. The armor on the knight's upper body still bore traces of gunpowder. Victor stowed these parts in his pack.

His death had truly landed Victor in a massive predicament. He should never have gone downstairs yesterday to ask the locals which scenery was best. With Tyrell's generous payments, the temple had no shortage of people willing to betray Victor.

People saw the witcher apprentice at Azure Lake today, and knew Tyrell had come to the lake to cause trouble for him. Angoulême's suggestion to destroy the body or flee far away was therefore meaningless.

After checking for any traces he shouldn't leave, Victor used Tyrell's canteen to wash the blood from his face. The once taut and twisted countenance relaxed in death, regaining its noble features.

Limping away from the Azure Lake shore, Victor felt a pang of guilt—once again, he'd have to trouble Granny Nannick for help.

...

Seven days later, the Count of Moen, White Rose Knight Falwick, stormed out of the temple's main hall without looking back, heading straight to the stables to mount his horse and depart.

Such conduct appeared to accept Melitele's judgment, but before leaving, his glance at the witcher apprentice conveyed bitter hatred, leaving a deep impression on Victor as he stood at the main hall's entrance.

Trouble. This matter was far from over.

"Trust me, it's not over yet. If I were you, I wouldn't have waited seven days for him to come knocking—I would've started running that very day, all the way back to Mahakam." Dwarven guard captain Kramer ambled over to Victor and spoke.

"And let the count issue a warrant for fleeing justice? I’d never be safe in Temeria again."

Victor shook his head.

"Thanks to King Foltest and the protection of just laws, at least now he can't drag me to the gallows for Tyrell's mysterious death when I'm innocent."

"Bah!" The dwarf spat. "Don’t fool me with that talk. If you trusted the king and the law, you wouldn’t be standing here but lying in the morgue already.

You went to the lake that day—someone saw you. You came back badly wounded—someone vouched for it. And Tyrell died at the lake that day, having spent all day sniffing around you, ready to kick you hard.

The whole affair is as obvious as lice on a bald head—what more evidence does anyone need?"

...

"Thankfully, merciful Melitele bears witness. I—Victor Corleon—have never killed anyone, never taken a life.

Though this ritual hasn't been performed in ages, the code is clear and you witnessed the goddess's oracle yourself. I am 'unsullied'; everyone must acknowledge its power. It proves I didn't kill Tyrell."

"Ah... sure... I saw it, but that means nothing. It only proves you didn't do it yourself. What if you had accomplices?

Falwick knows, and so do I—there’s always a hawk flying into your window! Sooner or later, I'll find that hawk!"

"Honorable captain, how can you so easily believe the rumors of common folk? For five orens of reward, they'll invent whatever the count wants—griffins or wyverns, all the same."

The dwarf's iron-gray eyes did not waver.

"Listen, witcher apprentice Victor—let’s skip the fancy probing and be honest.

We both know the truth. But since the prince doesn't care about Tyrell’s death, neither do I. In fact, I’m quite pleased that bastard got taken out.

Now, I'm a fair dwarf, so first, let me tell you: get out of Erland, as fast as you can. Murderers aren't welcome here!

Secondly, thanks to your handiwork, let me warn you: Falwick’s men include some real thugs. Run fast! If they catch you, the gallows will feel like heaven compared to what they'll do."

After listening, Victor rubbed his brow and considered for a moment.

Then he bowed slightly. "Thank you... I will remember your advice, Captain Kramer."