Chapter Forty-Five: The Noble Gentleman of the Flaming Rose

The essence of sword-dance lies in using feints to lure the enemy’s attacks into empty space, then spinning around to strike with the aid of centrifugal force.

As for the water ghouls, their attack patterns were remarkably simple: a swipe with the left claw, a swipe with the right, or a short leap with a double-handed pounce. That was all. On land, they couldn’t even burrow for a surprise assault like the fiends could.

Therefore, unless the battlefield offered no room to dodge or the ghouls possessed an overwhelming numerical advantage, their ranks would shatter with astonishing speed—just as swiftly as they had charged in with bold confidence, they now fled in utter disarray.

From their rousing howls to their panic-stricken squeals, the entire battle was over within minutes. It ended so quickly and straightforwardly that not a single trap set beforehand was even needed.

At the riverbank, the three quietly watched the monsters dive beneath the water and slip away. There was nothing more to be done tonight; to pursue them and fight underwater would be sheer folly.

Moreover, “They won’t be coming back. After this culling, the water ghouls will avoid this area and seek a new haunt near some other human settlement.” Unexpectedly, it was the knight who spoke, and Victor knew he was right.

He flicked the slime from his silver sword, sheathed it, and turned to face the knight directly. With his right hand over his heart, he declared, “Victor of Angoulême salutes you, brave knight. Thank you for your selfless aid.”

“Siegfried of Dansow, Order of the Flaming Rose,” the other replied, glancing around at the many water ghoul carcasses, then sheathing his own sword with a gentle tone. “I can hardly claim to have helped; rather, I intruded on your work, witchers.”

Turning to Angoulême with a nod, he continued, “Forgive my interference. Female witchers are a rare sight, and in such circumstances, a knight is bound by duty to protect women and children, and to rid the world of monsters.”

He wore no helmet, revealing short golden hair, striking features, and emerald eyes. His frame, clad in knight’s armor, was tall, lean, and powerfully built.

“No, we are but an ordinary mercenary company,” Victor promptly corrected.

Ever since his first outing as a witcher in Aelrande had made enemies out of thin air, Victor had resolved to act only as a mercenary during his stay in Vizima.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I hold no prejudice against witchers. On the path of slaying monsters, we are colleagues.” As if seeing through Victor’s caution, Siegfried nodded toward the small kettle by the campfire, which still held traces of sword oil. “An expert’s choice. My father once fought alongside witchers.”

“We truly are nothing more than mercenaries,” Victor said again, turning slightly so the light shone directly on his face.

Siegfried, seeing the unaltered pupils in Victor’s eyes, couldn’t hide a tinge of disappointment. “That’s a shame. There’s much work we could have contracted to a witcher.”

Victor let the silence linger. “Sir Knight, what brings you here at this hour?” He smiled, gesturing to the water ghoul corpses. “We were hired by an alchemist to gather these materials. You don’t mind if we get to work?”

Siegfried shook his head, his gaze lingering on the remains. “My purpose here is fulfilled. Go ahead.”

He turned to leave, but after a few steps, looked back. “As mercenaries, your skills are impressive. Would you be interested in other monster-hunting commissions?”

“We check the notice board in the temple district every day,” Victor replied with a smile.

Satisfied, Siegfried nodded and departed for good.

Once the knight was out of sight, Angoulême, who had been silent throughout, came over to help Victor collect the materials. Even with a few ghouls having escaped, the work left for the two of them would keep them busy for quite a while.

…

On the way home, their packs full, Angoulême reunited with Catherine, who had been free to roam that afternoon. Girl and eagle played together for a while before she released her companion into the night sky.

Then, “Captain, I think I can do it,” Angoulême said suddenly.

“Huh?” The abrupt and contextless remark left Victor baffled. “Do what?”

Angoulême turned, her expression earnest. “What you mentioned last time—wondering if I’d ever want to, you know, with someone… If he joined our company—just now, that ‘Siegfried the Knight’—I think I could.”

Realizing her meaning at last, Victor recalled Siegfried’s appearance: golden-haired, blue-eyed, strong and imposing—a striking figure indeed.

But, “Don’t even think about it. Did you see the emblem on his shoulder? He’s a knight of the Church. By tradition and monastic vows, he’s sworn himself to the Eternal Fire—he’s celibate for life.”

Angoulême replied nonchalantly, “I’m not looking to marry him, just borrow him every now and then. Is even that forbidden?”

“Of course it’s forbidden!” Victor rejected the idea outright. Recruiting someone only to tempt him into breaking his vows for a casual fling—what a reprehensible notion.

He added darkly, “Clearly, you need to develop a better understanding of religious oaths and cultural morals…”

“No way—never mind, then. I was just saying, anyway. If we ever recruit new members, his looks are about the minimum standard for me.”

At the mention of more study, the girl instantly withdrew her suggestion.

Having squashed his companion’s impractical daydream, Victor mused with a father’s relief: “If Siegfried is her lowest acceptable standard, then her taste is decent enough. At least she won’t bring home some ghastly wretch to frighten me one day.”

…

Back at home, “Huh! What’s this?” Angoulême picked up a slip of paper from near the window, glanced at the signature, and handed it straight to Victor.

He checked the signature as well, surprised to find it was from Shani, slipped through the window.

It had been several days since they’d last met outside the hospital. Given how busy and fulfilling his days had been, Victor could easily imagine that the doctor was just as occupied.

The note carried a faint scent of roses. The handwriting was as neat and delicate as its author, a pleasure to read.

“Victor… my friend, I suddenly had a bit of free time this afternoon. Although you mentioned you wouldn’t be home at this hour, I thought I’d stop by for a visit as a little walk—but alas, you weren’t in.

—Shani”

As soon as he finished reading, Victor looked up with a smile, only to find Angoulême watching him with a sly, inquisitive glint in her brown eyes—her interest in gossip was unmistakable.

He handed her the note, indicating she could read it herself. “No need for that look—it’s just Dr. Shani I mentioned before, dropping by for a visit.”

Without waiting for her reaction, Victor headed down to the basement to sort through the day’s spoils. With fresh water ghoul brains in hand, tomorrow’s first task would be to deliver them to Kalkstein. And with his previous book finished, it was time to borrow the next one.