Chapter Ninety-One: Angoulême's Fantastical World

It was afternoon. Standing on a bustling street in the trade district, Victor fished a Snake-school vitality draught from his herb satchel and gulped it down. A feeling of crisp refreshment swept through him.

The taste could not compare with the improved Wolf-school version, but medicine is meant to be bitter, and Resso had not been bragging. The Snake-school draught required many ingredients and was difficult to prepare, yet every component was easy to obtain; one could buy them all in the market.

So now the boy was drinking it as a tonic, one vial at dawn, noon, and dusk, growing accustomed to its properties and reducing the time needed to complete the astonishing process of alchemical refinement.

After finishing the drink, he set off again, the market’s cries of hawkers and merchants clamoring in his ears.

“Come and see! All kinds of amulets, to keep your home and travels safe and sound!”

“Honored lady, come have a look at my wares!”

“Sir, may the Eternal Fire shine upon you.”

“Everyone, over here, over here! Sweet and delicious country honey, only five jars in today’s limited supply!”

“Mirrors, mirrors for sale, shining mirrors!”

“Stop hesitating and buy one! No one on the banks of Lake Vizima sells them cheaper than I do.”

Some sales pitches were truly universal. With a detached and untroubled mind, Victor wandered among them.

This morning’s visit to Eivind, as expected, had led nowhere meaningful between the two shrewd men.

Regarding the monster he had encountered on the contract, the thing had turned out to be a female vampire. Eivind had only said he was deeply sorry; this was indeed beyond the responsibility an apprentice monster slayer ought to shoulder, though he was more “proud” of his friend for having still managed to destroy the beast.

Victor had slammed the table on the spot. “Pride” could not pay bills. More money.

Eivind had also very readily declared that he had no money to give, only his life to lose. That was the drawback of holding talks with a warlord in a barracks: when a man’s life was right there in front of you, you did not dare take it. In the end, all Victor could do was make Eivind owe him a favor, leaving him with one debt to Victor.

As for why the underground ruin had been empty, the commander said he had no idea and would need to investigate further. Yet the boy had not detected any disappointment in his microexpressions. In other words, the elf perhaps simply did not care whether there had been anything in the hall at all.

As for the reason Victor had come to the trade district now: before parting, Eivind had repeatedly requested his help, even offering rare alchemical materials as payment, and had hired him once more to serve as a messenger and deliver a letter.

Ambling leisurely to the banker’s residence, Victor reached out to knock on the door when, without warning, four highly trained brutes burst from a corner. They swarmed him, wrenching his arms and kicking his legs out from under him, then pinned the boy to the ground...

...

No—Angoulême, drenched in sweat, woke from the nightmare with a start and sprang upright from her bed. Catherine, perched on the rack by the window, was startled by her and flapped to the bedside, making soft chirring sounds in an attempt to calm her.

Realizing she was in her own bed and that it had only been a dream, the girl let out a long breath and gently gathered her companion into her arms. “Oh my God, that was terrifying. Catherine, do you know? I just had another awful nightmare.”

“Dun... dun...” Catherine murmured lowly.

“What? You want to know what it was again?”

After a moment, Angoulême’s breathing steadied and her mood gradually settled.

“...Fine... I’ll tell you again, especially for you.

I dreamed that... the captain was dragged into a house by four muscular men wearing very little clothing. They had lewd eyes, wicked grins, and made disgusting gestures.

Inside the house there was a bald villain with a monocle leading them, and the four of them tied Wick to a chair, then brought out lard, sausages, cucumbers, swordfish, durian... all sorts of food, saying they would give the captain a proper welcome.

Then Wick cried out in terror, ‘Master, save me!!!’

And then they did this and that, and that and this.”

“Caw! Caw! Caw!” At this point Catherine kept making short little cries, likely because the dream had so many points too absurd to ignore that refusing to comment would be an insult to herself.

But Angoulême paid her no mind. Her long, drawn-out recounting of the nightmare continued at an unhurried pace, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

...

There was no doubt that the four burly men were all properly dressed; nor did they have lewd eyes or wicked grins. After they subdued Victor, they escorted him to the house opposite, and throughout the process the boy made no great struggle.

On one hand, the attack had been so sudden that by ordinary reasoning a kidnapping could not possibly occur in broad daylight in such a prosperous district. On the other, they were all wearing garments marked with a lily emblem, which meant they belonged to an organization directly under royal authority. Unlike the city guard or the knightly order, their emblem was not worn on the chest but embroidered on the left sleeve, with an eye-shaped border around it.

Once inside, the brutes made the boy sit on a short stool without a backrest, then stood around him on all sides.

Next, a gaunt bald man emerged from inside the house, wearing a monocle and examining Victor with a smiling, condescending air.

This boy... his attire looked like that of a mercenary; his face was unremarkable, the only notable feature being the two swords on his back and the herb satchel slung across his body. This unusual outfit stirred something in the bald man’s memory, as though he had seen related records before.

By the time the bald man recalled the boy’s identity, the amount of silence he had allowed had already given the apprentice monster slayer enough pressure. He stepped before Victor and introduced himself. “Tallar, director of the Temerian Intelligence Service. Some people also call me the king’s eye, because I notice what others fail to notice, and so I am responsible for gathering all manner of intelligence for the king.

Now then, Mr. Victor Corleone, apprentice of the Cat school. You have lived in Vizima for just over a month now; neither obscure nor prominent, but famous enough. The city guard likes you, the knightly order admires you, you have never been involved in any sort of crime, you diligently slay demons, and you pay your taxes like a proper citizen. So can you tell me why the hell such an honorable citizen as yourself would come to visit that son of a whore, Goran Vivaldi?”

Victor raised his head, about to speak, when Tallar cut him off and added, “Honesty! Sir, remember that honesty is the best policy! I hate that I am always considerate, understanding, and merciful toward honest people.”

He bent down to meet Victor’s eyes. “As for dishonest people, I hand them over to my friend Vernon Roche. You would not want to know what he does to them. Believe me, by then you would lick clean my ass just to beg me to let you speak one true word.”

Straightening, he moved behind Victor and placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Let me tell you something in advance: Mr. Goran Vivaldi has had the bank temporarily taken over on suspicion of collusion with the Scoia’tael, and he is at home awaiting investigation. So do not tell me you came to conduct business, that would be stupid. If you must lie, at least make it more elegant!”

His hands pressed down slightly on the boy’s shoulders as he leaned close to Victor’s ear and whispered softly, “Do you understand? This is your last chance. Honesty, Victor. Do not waste my kindness.”

By this point, how could the apprentice monster slayer not understand what was happening?

Eivind wanted to make trouble. This trouble involved the banker Goran. Tallar had uncovered part of the scheme and was lying in wait here, waiting for a rabbit to come hopping into his hands. Victor was that rabbit.