The Witcher: The Alchemist Who Walked the Witcher’s Road

Drifting and swaying, wavering and floating, then suddenly, a violent jolt, Victor opened his eyes.

He was back, still seated inside the cave, facing the Dream Totem. Deep in the boy's eyes lingered a trace of melancholy. Their time together had been short, but a brother was still a brother.

And a battle that hot-blooded and exhilarating would probably never happen again. Even if he underwent the dream trial another time, he would never see Corion there again, because Corion was no longer a fear, he was his brother.

The five druids standing watch had also noticed that Victor was awake. Malfurion gave him an encouraging nod. "Not bad. You had the best qualities of anyone in this trial..."

"Wh, where is this...? I'm still alive? And this sure doesn't look like a lavish feast." Blueboy Lugos woke up with a little confusion still lingering on his face.

Victor rolled his shoulder. "You'll enjoy a grand feast in the heavens sooner or later, but not today, and definitely not now. Face reality, we're back."

Not long after he said that, Uve Jabberjaw and Jorulf also woke one after another.

"Haha! We did it! I knew we'd make it!" Jorulf jumped up happily.

Uve clenched a fist and thumped his chest. "..."

The Dream Druids who had been standing silently to one side, Elder Malfurion and the four assistants to the trial, stepped aside and left the path open, their expressions tolerant and kind.

"Congratulations on passing the dream trial and overcoming your fears. You may leave now."

Victor and the three men of Clan Drummond bowed to the druids in thanks, then left the unforgettable Cave of Dreams.

...

A few days later, the day after the trial party returned to Kaer Muire, Madman Lugos once again sat face to face with Victor inside the Drummond lord's fortress.

"I talked with my son for a long time last night. He's become a lot better now. I owe you my thanks. After passing the dream trial, he's clearly become more of a man."

"He was already a proper Skelliger. If you hadn't placed such high expectations on him, I don't think he would have challenged the dream trial so rashly."

Lugos waved a hand. "Don't try to teach me how to raise my son. That's only going to sour things between us. Besides, you're even younger than my son."

Victor shrugged.

The lord continued, "Anyway, I didn't bring you here just to thank you with empty words. You've seen your new ship already?"

"Yes. I went to inspect it at the harbor as soon as I got back yesterday. It really is very finely made."

"Of course it is. Drummond shipbuilding won't lose to an Craite or Tuirseach. But that's not the point. I asked Angoulême, and I hear you need a ship because you're heading into Blackhand's territory for revenge?"

Victor nodded. "That's right. A private grudge. A friend... someone I knew, was sold by pirates, and before he died, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman he'd grown up with. So I'm planning to go to Faroe, find the bastard responsible, settle things with him, and free some slaves."

Hearing that, Madman Lugos burst into loud laughter. "And you're planning to do it just like that? That's wonderfully naive. Do you even know that all the slave trading on Faroe pays taxes?"

Taxes!?

The moment Victor understood what the lord meant, his face darkened at once.

Seeing his expression worsen only made Lugos laugh harder. "Not openly, of course, and no one ever says it out loud.

"It's just that Faroe is too poor. Sometimes the captives brought back from raids aren't all ransomed. They don't need that many people, and they can't afford to feed that many people, so you understand."

It was not difficult to understand. Pirates were a pair of black gloves, doing business a lord could not do openly. At first glance, it was hard to accept, but after thinking it over, Victor could understand it.

Given their values, where dying in battle was an ending and an honor, it became clear enough. They did not prize long life above all, because they simply could not support that many people. If they could, they would not have to raid so often.

And on the Continent, slavery was already forbidden by law in some places, but the demand for labor had not vanished. So pirates exporting labor became a profitable business, and the money earned could feed more strong people, letting those who remained live better lives.

"So what you're saying is that this trip would be pointless? Holger's going to stand in my way?"

"No, no, no. I'm reminding you not to force the Continent's rules onto this place. You can avenge a private grudge, but don't turn it into some grand moral crusade. Don't dig all the way to the roots.

"You're a smart man. We've helped each other, and I'm very pleased with how you served me, so I'm going to help you a little more."

Lugos picked up a letter from beside him and handed it to Victor. "When you get to Harviken, find Holger and give him this letter. He'll help you find the pirate you're looking for as quickly as possible."

"By your own explanation, aren't those pirates effectively Blackhand's men? One letter from you is enough to make him sacrifice them?"

"Well, they need cleaning out from time to time anyway. A lord has to crack down on pirates and protect his people, doesn't he?

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I've never done that sort of thing myself. But I believe that when he has to do it, it doesn't make him feel any better."

"Sounds like the two of you get along pretty well."

"Not badly. Tuirseach and an Craite are the richest, and those two are close by blood now. If the rest of us don't stick together and get them to help us from time to time, life gets difficult. Want to hear more island political theory?"

"No thanks. I only came to settle a private score, kill some monsters, and make one last stop with the Tordarrochs to borrow some tools. Anything that shouldn't involve me has nothing to do with me."

"Hahahaha, just like I said, you damned bastard, you're a smart man. I like you. Safe travels."

When Victor stepped out of the fortress at Kaer Muire and followed the winding mountain road down, he entered Holmstein's Port.

...

As the Phantom Troupe prepared to sail, Blueboy Lugos came to see them off. About Blueboy's nickname, Vigi had enlightened the captain the night before. Supposedly, it came from the fact that his body was always covered in bruises when he was a child.

Some people said those marks came from beatings with belts, sticks, and fists from his father. Old Lugos had been afraid of spoiling the boy, so no matter how small or large the mistake, punishment always followed.

After hearing that and comparing it with what he had seen in the Cave of Dreams, Victor had to admit that rumors sometimes stumbled into the truth by accident.

In any case, Blueboy came to say farewell and also handed Victor a letter, this one an introduction addressed to Holger Blackhand's nephew, Halbjorn, Faroe's future heir.

"Vic, Halbjorn's a good man. We've fought together and hunted together. Once he sees this letter, he'll know you're a friend of mine, and he'll do everything he can to look after you."

"Thank you, Blueboy. I'm a little overwhelmed, because as you know, I only took part in that trial with you because I owed your father a blood debt."

He shook his head. "But the days I spent with you genuinely benefited me a great deal. Whether in the way you look at life or in how you view Continentals, you broadened my horizons. It was an honor to undergo the trial with a warrior like you."

Victor thought for a moment, then tilted his head. "May your axe always stay sharp."

Blueboy laughed and stepped forward to embrace him. "And may your blade always stay sharp."

...

Born in Holmstein's Port, the Thousand Sunny was an honorable work of Clan Drummond. Most of the hired sailors aboard were local Drummond men as well. She was a little larger than the Going Merry and could carry sixteen people.

On the second night after the ship left port, the second mate was, as usual, making his rounds, checking whether the sailors were holding their posts properly.

The captain was, as usual, holed up in his cabin, stirring a mysterious cauldron. As for the first mate, the only woman on the ship, she was in the captain's cabin too, reading a book while discussing the troupe's future plans.

"So this trip to Faroe basically means we're acting as muscle for that Holger guy, helping him clean out some pirates, right?" As she spoke, Angoulême had an open book resting on her lap, and decorative glasses perched on her face.

"According to the role Lugos arranged for us, yes, that's exactly what we are. We'll be the Dragonborn, righteous hero who just happens to arrive on the island and break up a cruel and merciless pirate gang."

"But is that really okay? The lord of Faroe, that bastard Blackhand, is making money off it too. And if he'd done his job properly, how could the pirates have gotten so rampant?"

The light flickered. Victor stopped stirring and began bottling his finished concoction, replying in an irritated tone.

"Mobilizing manpower costs money. People dying in battle costs money. A barren island can't support that many people to begin with.

"In order to survive, a lot of things can be forgiven. We can't judge the isles by Continental standards. If we're not certain we can save them, then it's best not to interfere.

"Of course, if you're determined to give up your pleasure house in Toussaint and change your ambition to becoming the ruler of Faroe, I wouldn't be totally unable to help you work something out."

Pushed back by the boy's answer, the girl adjusted her glasses. "Fine, then. But shouldn't we tell Vigi about this? He's a local. He might want to know."

"Not yet. Wait until you've given him enough of a basic education that he can accept gray areas like this and not do something stupid, then... actually, forget that. I'll decide for myself when to tell him. This is supposed to be a secret no one should say out loud. I probably shouldn't even have told you."

She shot him an annoyed look. "What's the big deal? I've noticed that ever since you came back from the dream trial, you seem different. More cheerful. Did something good happen?"

Thinking of that battle with his brother, Victor smiled with genuine satisfaction, his expression insufferably smug. "Something very good, actually. In the trial, I resolved the confusion in my heart and got rid of the stone that had been weighing on me.

"Remember when I told you I needed to find someone to test my blade on? I don't need that anymore. And from now on, you don't have to worry about my mind going wrong either. That said, this coming pirate den cleanup will still probably have to rely on you and Vigi. It's not yet time for me to act personally."

Watching Victor continue working without pause, Angoulême nodded. "Got it. So, what are you making now?"

"Mmm... you could say this is another result of that trial. I'd never considered making this before. Here, smell this little treasure." Victor had her hold out her hand, then poured a tiny bit of powder from a bottle into her palm.

At that distance, the powder looked completely ordinary. With no suspicion at all, the girl leaned in and inhaled.

The next instant, the stench hit her so hard it sent her world spinning. It was like falling into the depths of hell. She almost wanted to draw a knife and cut her own nose off on the spot.

"Ta-da, surprise! The legendary Devil's Puffball, made from drowner glands, water hag warts, skunk spray, chili powder, vomit, feces, body odor, burnt hair ash, and many other precious ingredients, all refined through unbelievable alchemy.

"That smell is truly powerful, powerful! Guaranteed to leave a lifelong impression on anyone who smells it!"

Angoulême was frantically washing her hands and rinsing out her nose, tears and snot pouring from the irritation. Hearing him still smugly introducing it like a proud salesman, she glared at Victor so fiercely her eyes turned red.

Even under that murderous stare, Victor kept grinning. "Why are you glaring at me? I'm not apologizing. Didn't you once prank me with a whole sack of drowner materials?"

Only after finally recovering a little did the first mate slump back into her seat, glaring at the captain with hatred. "So what the hell is this thing supposed to be? What kind of inspiration made you create something this horrifying?"

"I remembered it during the trial too. Back in Bell Town, I once made a gas bomb called Devil's Puffball, also known as Farmer's Fart. The gas released when it burns invades the lungs and causes poisoning.

"But that version was meant for use in open spaces, so it wasn't very suitable for close-range fighting like ours. So I improved it. If this stuff gets into your lungs, it won't do any direct damage, but it will leave a person temporarily unable to act.

"Think about it. In the middle of a fight, you suddenly put on a mask, throw one of these out, and then the two of you both take a deep breath. What do you think happens next?"

"Pfft, hahaha!" Angoulême had tried to keep a straight face, but the image was so vivid she burst out laughing.

Having experienced that soul-deep shock herself, she had no doubt that any enemy would lose the ability to fight in an instant and be left completely at her mercy.

Unable to stop smiling, the girl asked with concern, "So you're going to turn this into bombs and hand them out to us?"

"That's right. We can't be sure how many enemies there'll be in this pirate cleanup. If we recklessly use Grapeshot or Dancing Star, we might injure captives too. So I'm preparing a weapon that only makes people lose their fighting ability. When the time comes, you and Vigi will each get a bag."

"This powder is disgusting and really sneaky. At hand-held distance, I had no idea it was anything dangerous. The instant it got into my nose, it practically exploded. But in that case, since it isn't lethal, you can just use it however you like?"

"That's exactly right. That was my whole reason for developing it."

"Vic, about this powder... give me some."

"What do you want it for!?"

"I want to go share it with Vigi. Something this wonderful shouldn't be enjoyed by me alone!"

After a moment's thought, Victor filled a small bottle and handed it to her. "Getting you both used to it isn't a bad idea. Call him in here in a minute, I'm going to make face molds for the two of you. We need gas masks."

"Understood!" Angoulême answered energetically, then happily left the cabin.

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