Chapter Thirty-Nine: When We Were Together in Vejima

When Victor arrived in the city last night, it was already deep into the night. Without any cat’s eye potion at hand, it was difficult to spot the markings left by Angoulême, so Victor had no choice but to seek lodging in a place that stayed open late and offered large bathtubs for bathing. No wonder this was Vizima—the service and prices were befitting the capital.

The next day, following the occasional abstract paintings at the corners of walls, Victor knocked on the door of a three-story building in the temple district. The door opened, and Angoulême welcomed him with an honest embrace, her joy bringing her nearly to tears.

The young man stepped inside, allowing Angoulême to lead him, starting from the basement, as she showed him her progress.

“When I heard the city gate had restricted entry, I was worried you wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“You should have faith in your captain—he always has a plan.”

“Is that so? Too bad plans never keep up with changes.”

“Oh! You’ve gotten better at sarcasm since I last saw you.”

“I’ve been studying for so long, I had to grow a little.”

This three-story building had its basement designated as an alchemy lab. The first floor was the living room, kitchen, and Victor’s bedroom; the second floor was reserved for Angoulême and Catherine’s independence, while the third floor remained temporarily empty.

“If you’ve grown, then tell me: why did you choose this place? What are its strengths and weaknesses?” After a quick inspection, Victor was quite satisfied with the place.

“I chose the temple district because we didn’t have enough money,” Angoulême spread her hands and made a funny face. “And considering convenience and safety, this place is close to the communal water pool, most neighbors are ordinary residents, and there’s a patrol post not far away.”

Victor clapped his hands. “Very good, you’ve thought it through. Catherine is fine with it too?”

“No problem—too many people in Vizima keep fierce animals. Catherine isn’t anything special.”

“Let’s go, then. Show me to Kalkstein’s alchemy workshop. On the way, tell me what you know about his personality.”

…

“Brave knights, you have gathered before me… burdened with worry.

You hold loyalty to the king, yet you do not know which path is right.

Yes! We are at a crucial moment!

The last time Emperor Emhyr’s legions invaded the North, they annexed Cintra, pillaged Aedirn—their attacks were savage and greedy, and they will never be satisfied.

Think about it! Nilfgaard, once suppressed south of the Elenna River, has now crossed the Yaruga, coveting our lands.

Have you wondered what allows their invasions to succeed again and again?

Let me tell you the answer—

It is all the fault of those filthy, shameful Squirrels!

These traitors! They once survived by deceiving our mercy, enjoying our generosity, and now they shoot cowardly arrows at our backs…”

From afar, Victor had to admit the speaker was a master storyteller, full of infectious energy. As he drew closer, he saw dozens of knights standing in formation, listening to the man on the platform.

The speaker was tall and powerfully built, clad in full plate armor emblazoned with the Eternal Fire sigil on his chest. His hair was a brown, Lambert-like M-shaped cut, and his rectangular face was rugged and stern, his beard full and imposing.

His bearing was so distinguished, it was clear at a glance he was a commander. Victor sent Angoulême an inquiring look; she nodded in understanding. “Jacques of Ardberg—Commander of the Order of the Flaming Rose.”

Having his answer, Victor fixed the man’s face in his memory, then turned away swiftly. Angoulême jogged to keep up, continuing to guide him, and whispered, “Captain, you don’t seem to like that commander very much?”

Victor yawned, still tired from last night’s poor sleep. “Is it your powers of observation that have improved, or am I being too obvious?”

The girl’s lips curled with pride. “This past month, from Ellander to Vizima, I’ve been acting alone most of the time. I really feel I’ve gotten sharper.

But you were obvious, too. Most people who hear Jacques’ speech look inspired and hopeful—not blank-faced like you.

What don’t you like about him? Is it because you’re both commanders?”

“…I don’t like gathering people’s hearts through hatred.”

“Is that so? Well, I think he’s pretty nice.”

“You’ve only seen him for a few days—what makes you say so?”

“The headquarters of the Order is right here. We pass by every day, and you’ll see soon enough.”

From the Phantom Brigade’s local branch in Vizima, a fifteen-minute walk north led to the headquarters of the Order of the Flaming Rose. Further west, closer to the heart of the temple district, stood Saint Lebioda’s Hospital, the only solace for the poor and the afflicted.

As they passed the hospital, Victor naturally glanced inside. Due to the epidemic, the tall and wide carved doors were tightly shut, with guards from the security patrol stationed at the entrance.

Noticing Victor’s gaze, Angoulême asked, “What’s wrong, Captain?”

“There’s a sister who works at the hospital—I’ll introduce you next time.” Thinking of Shani, Victor’s mood recovered from the impression left by Jacques.

“Alright, but I’m telling you now—I won’t go into the hospital. It’s full of plague victims, and the sight of their illness is just too awful.

When I first arrived, I saw a patient whose neck was swollen with a huge lump, and it burst with a pop, oozing yellow pus…” The disgust and fear on Angoulême’s face were plain as she recalled the scene.

Mentioning the plague, Victor took a charm from his herbal pouch and handed it to Angoulême. “Almost forgot—wear this, it should reduce your chances of catching the plague. Probably.”

Angoulême was instantly delighted. “Wow! That’s amazing, Captain. What charm is this? So powerful?”

“I’ll tell you next time. Now, what’s this situation?”

Ahead, a group of armored knights, clearly different from the Rose Order, surrounded a noblewoman in hunting attire as she rode through the market.

“That’s Princess Adda and the nobles hoping to crawl under her skirts. Captain, don’t those knights look like flies buzzing around a cow pat?”

Speaking of flies, Angoulême spat in disgust. “But everyone knows they’ll never marry the princess. With King Foltest doting on her, he’ll ensure she weds a true big shot.”

“Do they really have a chance? I mean, to crawl under her skirts.”

“Who knows? Anyway, the princess’s reputation isn’t great. Even the fishwives at the market talk about it as if they were there.

There’s a butcher in the trade district who named his dog ‘Adda’ because she’s a ‘spoiled bitch.’ Of course, he only dares say that in private.

There are plenty of amusing stories—want to hear some?”

Victor shook his head. “No, thank you.”

He remembered this Adda, since lifting her curse was one of Geralt’s career highlights—even featured in the opening animation. But he truly had no idea the princess had become such a wild character.