Chapter Fifty-Three: The Friendship of Gentlemen is as Pure as Water

The negotiations proceeded far more smoothly than expected. No matter how much the boy had prepared himself beforehand, he never imagined that Lancemit would turn out to be such a reasonable person. As a result, many of the conditions he had readied were never even brought up.

It was only as he descended the stairs and saw Angoulême at the bar, clutching the pouches of coins they had won, grinning from ear to ear, that Victor finally felt a tangible certainty that everything had been settled.

The girl was chatting with Siegfried of the Rose, and the boy stepped forward to order a small glass of cherry liquor from the innkeeper, Griffelin. He picked up the iron-studded leather armor beside Angoulême and began to don it.

Seeing Victor armoring himself, the knight could not help but laugh. “Come now, this is Vizima, and it’s night—there’s no need to be so wary. No one’s going to attack you here.”

Without pausing, the boy smiled in return. “I have someone to thank for this habit. Last time I left without armor, I received a lesson I’ll never forget.”

Siegfried had no idea what he was referring to and could only shake his head. “Suit yourself!”

At this, Angoulême chimed in with a beaming smile, “Hey, Vick, look—we won so much money!” She stacked the pouches in front of him one by one.

“If you’ve got money, put it away quickly. Leaving it out like this is just inviting someone to rob you.” Seeing the wild girl’s toothy grin, he was sure she’d bet more than a hundred Orens.

The girl laughed cheerily. “Don’t worry! With a Rose Knight here, no one with any sense would dare try to rob us. I just asked him, and he said he’ll escort us home tonight.”

Raising an eyebrow, Victor looked at Siegfried. “Are we troubling you too much?”

The knight shook his own fattened coin pouch with a grin. “Not at all. Thanks to you, I made quite a bit myself tonight—consider it a service to the townsfolk.”

Victor tossed back his cherry liquor in one gulp. “Let’s go, then. I’ve finished all my business here.”

The innkeeper crossed his arms and smiled in his habitual way. “Leaving already? I thought you’d want to stay and enjoy the charms of ‘The Thirsty Thighs.’ Several lovely girls left messages, waiting for you across the street!”

Leaving the Hairy Bear Inn, they found “The Thirsty Thighs” just across the street.

Victor replied with a bright smile, “Next time! I promise!”

After tying up the coin pouches and stowing them in his leather satchel, the odd trio of the Phantom Brigade and the Rose Knight left the tavern together.

…

Curfew in Vizima didn’t begin until after ten, so although there weren’t many people on the streets at night, the three chatting companions did not seem out of place.

Their laughter rang out as they talked, and Victor marveled at how some people were just born likable. Unlike himself, who had been shaped and restrained by hardship, they possessed a sincerity that came straight from the heart. Siegfried’s honesty was not foolishness, for he had no need to be overly shrewd. In this, he resembled Angoulême, though the girl was even more adept—she could blend seamlessly among dwarves or elves, never seeming out of place.

“Hey, Vick,”—by now, the knight had naturally adopted the nickname—“do you have any jobs lined up lately?”

The boy was about to answer, but the girl spoke first. “Bloodthirsty plants! We’ll be heading to the southern marsh forests in a few days to deal with them.”

“Ah!” Siegfried clapped his fist into his palm. “Those giant thorn trees are no joke. It’s great to have experts on the job... Just be careful out there. There are Scoia’tael in the area, and their attacks are unpredictable.”

Taking advantage of the mention of the Scoia’tael, Victor asked, seemingly offhand, “I’ve heard the order’s public speeches from afar. Your ‘Grandmaster’ seems to despise non-humans and hates the Scoia’tael in particular. Do you feel the same?”

Siegfried answered naturally, his voice light, “Ha! You must not have listened to the whole thing—that’s a misunderstanding. The Grandmaster doesn’t hate non-humans, he has no prejudice against them. What he condemns is the Scoia’tael.

And as the Grandmaster has said, I too believe that the Scoia’tael are a group of harmful parasites. Without their sabotage, Nilfgaard could never have acted so brazenly in the war.

I know many people, myself included, who sympathize with the injustices non-humans currently suffer. But the Scoia’tael are rapidly squandering that goodwill with their murders, robberies, and the destruction of supply lines.

Of course, there are good and bad in every race, but from what I’ve seen, the actions of the Scoia’tael are appalling.”

When her companion launched into one of his long speeches, Angoulême had learned to keep silent—this was Victor’s domain, while she had her own role, and at this moment, she sensed something subtle.

“Hmm... Speaking of which, what kind of person is Jacques of Aldersberg? How did he become Grandmaster of the Order of the Flaming Rose?”

The Rose Knight was happy to answer. He felt it his duty to let more people understand the Grandmaster and bring more support to the Eternal Fire.

“Lord Jacques was once a wandering knight. His appearance was a great miracle to many in the order.

A few months ago, the White Rose Order was riven by a severe internal feud. The previous Grandmaster was mired in scandal and had to step down in disgrace.

We knights lost our faith, our purpose. We thought we were serving the king, but in truth, the higher-ups were deceiving him at every turn.

That was when Lord Jacques appeared. Have you heard of Ithlinne’s Prophecy? The one about the wolf and the Blizzard? He showed many in the order a vision of the White Frost’s end!

After glimpsing the world’s catastrophic future, we regained our faith. We vowed to become the world’s warmth, to carry on the flame of civilization. Our cause is just.”

“Uh, do you really believe they saw the coming of the White Frost?”

“I don’t know—I didn’t witness it myself. But in Lord Jacques’s words, I can feel his urgency, his earnestness, his unwavering will. That’s why we gathered around him and reformed into the Order of the Flaming Rose.”

“Remarkable! What an unbelievable legend—a wandering knight appears before a shattered order, wins universal acclaim, and swiftly transforms the crumbling White Rose into the new, radiant Flaming Rose. It’s the stuff of bardic epics...”

“Hey, Victor—I respect you, but you should respect me too. I hear a hint of sarcasm in your words. I hope that’s just my imagination.”

“All right, I apologize. The schooling in Bellton made me cynical about the unknown.” Victor placed a hand over his heart in apology.

“I forgive your offense, for as Prophet Lebioda said: we all need forgiveness; we must help each other through every trial.” Siegfried waved magnanimously. “Once you’ve dealt with the thorn monsters, I have another commission for you.

And if you have the chance, I’d like you to meet the Grandmaster in person. He’s the most honest man I’ve ever met. I’m sure meeting him will change your mind and put all your doubts to rest.”

Victor nodded in agreement, then stopped walking. They had reached the spot closest to the order’s headquarters, the perfect place to part ways with the Rose Knight.

He said a few words to Siegfried, as if bidding farewell. Angoulême’s expression did not change, while the knight looked briefly puzzled before nodding and heading off.