Chapter Ninety-Five: Two or Three Matters Before Taking the Stage, Part One

In a secluded corner of the Pure White Hall, in the palace of the Temerian Empire—

“Looking at this glittering spectacle before us, I was reminded of that famous line you used to say,” said the man in a rose-pink ruffled fitted coat. With his neatly trimmed goatee and handsome, dashing features, he cut an elegant figure.

“I have a very bad feeling about this, so please do not say it aloud,” replied the other. His fitted coat was black with white patterns and no ruffles; aside from four knife scars that lent his face a somewhat masculine air, there was little else to remark upon.

“Royal power is never eternal.”

“…I had no idea you had suicidal tendencies. Or have you forgotten where we are? If you are in such a hurry to send yourself to the gallows, then keep away from me and say it much louder.”

Dandelion, the North’s most celebrated bard, wearing a vivid hat adorned with feathers, was trying to coax conversation from his friend Victor in the hope of easing the young man’s displeasure.

“Must you be so dull, my friend? You were not like this before.”

“If by ‘interesting’ you mean dressing yourself up like a pigeon, then I am terribly sorry to disappoint you. That is exactly how dull I am. Or if you are hinting that I ought to provoke royal authority, I must remind you: say whatever you like at home, but in the Pure White Hall, ‘speech is silver, silence is gold.’”

“Ah-ha! Another saying worthy of immortality. I have heard versions with a similar meaning, but none so vivid and apt.

Listen… relax a little, will you? It is not that serious. I remember last year in Toussaint…”

“The duchess who ruled there nearly had your head,” Victor cut in cleanly, “Anna Henrietta, a heartbreaking, unforgettable love story, complete with the lands, forests, castles, and palaces she gifted you…

All of it ended because you committed the crimes of insulting Her Grace, betraying the duchy, perjury, slander, and spreading malicious lies against the nobility.

What was that nickname you gave her again?

Weasel, wasn’t it? Hah, hah, hah!”

“Oh damn, look at what I’ve done! I really did drink too much—I actually told you that….” He clasped his hands in surrender. “I’ll shut up right now. Could you stop too? At least before I go onstage, I’d like to keep a light and cheerful heart.”

Victor arched a brow, folding his arms. “Tsk. You were the one who came poking at me first, and I don’t care in the least whether your heart is cheerful or not. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing here now. I even skipped seeing Shani for this banquet.”

“All right, I apologize. It was my mistake. You do not like these noble social affairs, I swear I remember that now. I promise I will make it up to you, all right? Just please, no more.”

Having suffered defeat at Victor’s hands, Dandelion hurried off at once into the circle of nobles. Before long he was laughing and talking with several noble ladies, dazzling them with wit so sparkling that they trembled with mirth.

With the chatterbox bard gone, the boy found himself less troubled than he had complained he would be. At least Princess Ada’s banquet was not held in the traditional closed style; the atmosphere was more like a modern buffet reception. Long tables laden with food and drink were arranged along the sides and through the center, with no fixed seating. People moved freely through the hall with plates and goblets in hand, conversing at will.

From the corner where Victor stood, he could survey the entire hall at a glance. It was easy to spot the Knight of the Lily, Roderick, trailing after Princess Ada step for step wherever she went.

He also noticed Keira Metz holding a goblet and chatting merrily with a richly dressed middle-aged official. One could safely say that the bald man with the generous belly held a very high position indeed.

As for the petite sorceress Keira, today she wore a white gown with a plunging neckline that reached her navel. A zircon cross glittered upon her chest, and naturally she was the most striking focus in the hall.

...

Relying on his plain appearance and unassuming clothes, the boy stood alone in the corner with a cup of wine in hand, easily securing enough private space.

Lost in the bustle yet quiet within himself, imagining one refined plan after another in his mind, Victor did not feel lonely. But it was obvious that he was not the only one concerned about the solitary witcher apprentice.

“Your first time at such a gathering, yes? It must feel rather awkward. Isn’t it different from what you read about in books? This is the new banquet style brought about by sorceresses.”

The speaker, approaching from behind the boy, was the King’s Eye. He wore a monocle and simple, understated clothing.

“Mister Taler, I did not expect a figure like you to attend a banquet. Is this not a feast to celebrate the harvest, a supper for warm and kindly people?”

“Have you misunderstood something? It is precisely because these are warm and kindly gatherings that I must be present. The place is crawling with Nilfgaardian spies and plots to overthrow the kingdom.” Smiling all the while, he fixed Victor with his gaze. “Even the furtive mice are dressed like proper people, slipping about the hall with drinks in hand. How could I not come and keep an eye on things?”

Victor raised his glass to Taler in salute. “Your sharpness is unmatched. Truly worthy of the title King’s Eye.”

Taler lifted his own glass in return. “Let me give you a hint. In a place like this, without a noble to bring you into their circle, you will always remain an outsider on the sidelines.”

“But I feel that, compared with the king’s secret inspector, perhaps the noble lords would be more willing to accept, hmm… a newly arrived mouse, so long as he is dressed like a proper person.”

“What is this? Still bearing a grudge over my search of you yesterday?”

“Of course. No law-abiding citizen would enjoy such a thing happening to him, even if you were only doing your duty.

Your suspicion of the darkness in human nature, your habit of digging up secrets wherever you go—that is why the nobles despise you. I can sympathize with it.”

Having said that, he took leave of Taler, stepped forward on his own initiative, and blocked a stout knight who was passing by, accompanied by two noble companions.

“Sir Champly, long time no see. Has your splendid new attire come with a promotion?”

One of the men beside him, assuming Victor knew the gentleman, answered quite naturally, “Yes indeed. Our esteemed Champly presented the royal family with ten flawless wolf pelts, free of any blemish, and was granted a post as a royal huntsman.”

“What an extraordinary honor. To obtain even one wolf pelt completely without a mark requires great luck and courage. Ten pelts speak of skill beyond compare; the office of royal huntsman is well deserved.”

At Victor’s words, Champly met the boy’s eyes, then composedly introduced him to his friends. “Allow me to present to you this one—”

Victor took the lead at once. “—the bard Victor, from Belhaven east of Sarrikania. Good evening, my honored gentlemen.

Tonight I shall bring you greetings from beyond the Blue Mountains, the magnificent and wondrous sights of the Sarrikanian desert, and all manner of marvelous and unfamiliar tales.”

With a royal huntsman standing nearby to lend his smiling endorsement, the two friends naturally changed their manner at once. Coldness gave way to warmth, and the four of them soon stood together with their cups in hand, talking of nothing but the struggles of the higher nobility, the scandalous gossip of noble ladies, and the technical academy in the trade quarter.

Yet Victor, having blended into the atmosphere so smoothly, soon began to regret it. Chatting with these three empty-headed wine-skins was no more pleasant than remaining where he had been. He himself was, so to speak, a flagrant offender against the crime of wasting time.

At least conversation with Taler had offered some clash of minds. However uncomfortable his ceaseless probing might be, it would never be boring.