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

[Name: Deboned Beef]

[Type: Animal Tissue]

[Quality: Common]

[Use: A widely used ingredient, rich in protein.]

[Trait: Quality Improvement]

[Notes: Good beef is best made into steak, and good steak is best eaten in its natural flavor, with nothing more than an even sprinkling of pepper on both sides and salt to draw out the sweetness of the juices.]

...

[Name: Devil's Puffball]

[Type: Offensive Item]

[Quality: Fine]

[Use: After detonation, the smoke irritates the mucous membranes of the eyes, nose, mouth, skin, and lungs, causing stinging eyes and tears, sneezing, coughing, nausea, vomiting, chest tightness, dizziness, and burning pain on the skin.]

[Trait: Quality Improvement, Increased Destructive Power]

[Notes: Also known as Farmer's Fart, the smell is strong and forceful.]

...

A while later, night fell, snow drifted down in fine flakes, and the leather armor and steel swords were all hidden beneath gray cloaks.

The three members of the Phantom Troupe returned to the hillside near the village, took out a spyglass, and began their final observations before the attack.

With a leather pouch full of Devil's Puffball tucked against him, the rogue Vigi studied Trottheim through the lens, trembling ever so slightly with excitement. Even for a veteran like him, an assault at odds of three against a hundred was something he had never experienced before.

He had already memorized the patrol pattern by heart. In a moment, he would kill the watchmen first, slip straight into the longhouses, and execute the sleeping pirates. Once discovered, he would activate the Devil's Puffball and throw the place into chaos. Naturally, he could not forget to put on his dog-shaped gas mask first.

Angoulême's plan was broadly the same, with only a few details changed. First, her mask was shaped like a cat. Yes, the cat-burglar act was making a comeback.

And second, there were things that looked perfectly natural coming from a rogue like Vigi, things that seemed entirely unremarkable to him, but the girl knew the boy would care about them.

"Vic, do you see her? I'm a little worried about that woman moving around the village freely. She isn't Liss, is she?"

Victor had noticed her long before Angoulême pointed her out. A woman was bringing drinks and food to the pirates on patrol, and the pirates were not keeping their hands to themselves, taking liberties whenever they pleased. Yet she handled it well, even smiling as though she enjoyed it.

If that woman was Liss, Luf's childhood friend, the person Victor had come here to rescue, then she seemed to be living a full and meaningful life already, and did not appear to need rescuing at all.

That miserable possibility made the boy's expression stiffen.

He let out a long breath. "Whatever the truth is, once the bow is drawn there's no turning back. Even if it's only for the sake of the prisoners in the cells, this slaughter has to happen.

"Heaven knows where they'll be sold and to whom once tomorrow comes. We can't save everyone, but tonight, every victim inside Trottheim is under the Phantom Troupe's protection."

Looking into Victor's resolute eyes and hearing the unwavering order in his voice, Angoulême and Vigi both placed a hand over their chest and nodded at the same time.

"As you will, Captain."

...

After separating from his two subordinates, Victor moved alone, walking openly toward Trottheim's main gate. His task was to draw attention, making it easier for Angoulême and Vigi to scale the walls and begin their covert work.

He walked into the wind and snow until he reached the village entrance. The two guards approached him carelessly, and then, unexpectedly, the one on the left spoke first. "Ah, you finally made it. I don't know what the hell your problem is, but in the Isles, if you're doing business, you don't make the other side wait."

His face was filthy, his beard unkempt, and the cloth tied around his head was mottled red and yellow with blood and sweat. A dagger hung at his chest, and a steel sword at his waist.

"Sorry, do I know you? And what business are you even talking about?" Victor replied calmly.

The man waved a hand and stepped aside. "I'm Dagr, damn it. Cut the mystery already, we don't have time. That Nilfgaardian, Ville, said he'd send someone to pick up the goods today. Get inside, and don't start any trouble."

"Do I look like a Nilfgaardian to you?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Get moving! If you want to haggle, go talk to the overseer yourself."

Victor shook his head. Their hospitality was hard to refuse. "All right, I'm going in."

"That's more like it. Come with me, and don't do anything stupid." Satisfied, Dagr turned around and led the way, and Victor walked right into Trottheim in full view of everyone.

Just as he had expected beforehand, all of Trottheim had been turned into a giant prison. Looking through the bars, the living conditions were not exactly good, but then again, no human rights group was ever going to show up here and object.

Along the way he could faintly hear bits and pieces of conversation between buyers and guards.

"Can I try out the goods first?"

"Too late. Every one of these girls already has a buyer."

"If you don't say anything, I won't say anything..."

Expressionless, Victor let the two men drift past the corner of his eye and kept walking.

"Damn, the hold stinks to hell."

"Nothing to be done about it. That's the problem with too rich a haul. We'll still need to clean up the shit afterward, or we won't even be able to stay there ourselves."

He could not see the men who said those two lines, hidden behind a stack of barrels. Victor stopped paying attention to the voices around him. The more he heard, the fouler his mood became. In any case, this time he had no intention of leaving survivors.

After weaving through streets with several turns and twists, Dagr brought Victor to the deepest part of the village, to the tallest and sturdiest longhouse there. He knocked, opened the door, and led him inside.

The slave driver was berating several pirates. "You call this top-quality stock? Are you fucking joking? These ones are nothing but skin and bones.

"Now take them to Cell One. Feed them something decent. Keep your hands off them, and control your whips. If even one of them dies, I'll lash you once for it."

The three pirates murmured assent and dragged five frail girls out the door, their ankles tied together so they stumbled and lurched as they went. Then only Victor, Dagr, and the slave driver remained in the room.

Victor walked up to the slave driver, perfectly at ease. "I heard you were waiting for me. The merchandise, is it in good shape?"

The man rapped his knuckles against his breastplate. "A few of them got a little worked up, but we handled it. Didn't damage them. These islanders are all hard bastards, they'll be useful for sure."

In the firelight, the fellow's breastplate turned out to be real steel. It was not proper knightly gear, but it still looked solid enough, and the double-handed war hammer on his back did not seem to be merely ornamental either. Instinctively, Victor recalled how he had cut the arm off men like this in the Cave of Dreams.

"It's good they weren't injured. Ville needs people who can be put to work immediately."

Now that he was closer and could see Victor's face clearly, the slave driver looked a little puzzled. "Did Ville really send you? I thought the man who came would look more like a Nilfgaardian."

Victor's expression turned impatient. "What, did you expect me to paint a Black Sun on my chest? I'm here to do business, damn it. What exactly is a Nilfgaardian supposed to look like?"

"All right, all right, no need to get so worked up. I just thought you looked well-kept. You seem pretty young. The goods are all ready, but how are you planning to transport them?"

"I don't like the way you call human beings goods."

"I don't care whether you like it or not. Do you have the money ready?"

The cold wind scraped along the longhouse. Outside the window, the snow hissed softly in the dark. Victor could feel it clearly, the voices outside were growing fewer and fewer.

"How many crowns? Ville hopes that such a large purchase entitles him to an appropriate discount."

"Go to hell. No discount. Eight hundred crowns, take it or leave it. I'm telling you, this batch is in high demand. If he doesn't want them, plenty of others do."

Victor blinked, then pulled out two bulging purses from his herbal satchel and casually tossed them onto the nearby table. The heavy thud caught Dagr's attention at once, drawing him away from Victor's back as he moved closer to count the crowns.

The slave driver did not seem bothered by his subordinate's greed. "Now all that's left is moving the stock. We'll bring them to you, but you'd better have your ship anchored in the bay."

"No need. Just give me the keys to the cells." Victor rolled his neck. The outer surface of those two purses had been dusted with powder. Judging from Dagr's habit of biting gold coins now and then to test them, he would probably be on the floor very soon.

The slave driver frowned at Victor's answer. "And then what? Don't tell me you're planning to drive them on foot. By yourself?"

"I don't care about the ones who collapse on the way. Ville only wants the strongest."

"All right, fine, here. But if they run away, don't come crying to me for your money back. They're your property now."

The instant he handed over the key, Dagr suddenly swayed and collapsed face-first onto the table. Crowns scattered all over the floor with a loud clatter.

The slave driver froze and turned his head. In that moment, Victor's steel sword flashed free. Smoothly, coldly, he drove it up beneath the man's armpit, then slipped behind him and hacked off his entire arm.

The slave driver dropped to his knees with a piercing scream. Looking at his back, Victor wore an almost smiling expression, twisted with something conflicted and strange. Then he took the towel hanging over the chair and handed it over, letting the man clamp it desperately over the wound as blood poured out.

After that Victor shifted two steps sideways, sliced through unconscious Dagr's ankle with one stroke, dragged over a piece of clothing to cover the wound, and walked straight outside into the cold, fresh air to calm the emotions surging inside him.

For this conflict with the pirates, the bottom line he had drawn for himself was one maimed limb. At most, he was allowed to take one hand or one foot.

But even though he had prepared himself mentally, the moment he actually cut into someone, the joy that welled up from the deepest part of his heart nearly made him reverse the swing and chop off the slave driver's head as well. And when he cut Dagr's ankle a moment later, the urge to thrust the blade through his heart in passing had also pulsed eagerly through him.

After standing still for a short while, his emotions finally settled. Victor then noticed that the slave driver's shrill screams had not drawn any guards at all. It seemed the pirates' alarm system had already collapsed completely.

Which meant Vigi and Angoulême's assassinations were most likely already reaching their conclusion as well. In other words, Captain Victor's plan had been a complete success.

The boy rubbed his chin in satisfaction. So this, then, was what they called the calm before the storm. He had barely finished the thought when an explosion suddenly boomed in the distance. There was no doubt what it meant, the assassination phase was over, and Devil's Puffball had begun to show its power.

Victory in tonight's battle was already beyond doubt. The only question left was how long it would take to end everything.

Putting on his fox mask and taking up the Sword of Prometheus, the boy rushed toward the battlefield.

...

When the first faint light began to show on the horizon, the captives who had huddled in corners all night, terrified by bomb blasts and battle cries in the darkness and driving snow, saw a graceful and striking young man approach them.

"The trafficker's here. We're finished..."

"Wait, I know him, we're saved!

"He's Victor the Bearbreaker, the legendary Dovahkiin. He's a friend of Clan Tuirseach. King Bran must have sent him to rescue us!"

Hearing the conversation from behind the bars, Victor smiled and unlocked the cell door. "That's right. We are the Phantom Troupe. I am the Dragonborn, Victor Corion, and I came here at King Bran's request to save you.

"Don't be afraid. You're all free now. After last night's battle, the pirates of Trottheim have been wiped out. But I need your help burning the bodies and cleaning up the village, to prevent ghouls or plague from breaking out."

"A, all hundred-plus pirates were wiped out!?" one still-shaken captive asked, stunned by the unbelievable result.

Victor tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Well, strictly speaking, not quite. At the very least, the pirate leader Hammond was not in camp. We just interrogated the pirates about where he went, and apparently he took some of his men into the nearby hills to pray.

"Unexpected, right? Turns out he's a devout believer after all.

"But don't worry about it. Once you've all been settled and your safety is assured, my companions and I will go after him. We won't let him escape."

"Thank you, thank you so much. You're going to live a hundred years," a young woman said through tears.

A boy around Victor's age wept with joy. "As expected of the great Dovahkiin, I'll never forget what you've done for us!"

"That's right, that's right, everyone has to know of your brave deeds!" said a sturdy woman, nodding again and again in gratitude.

Victor accepted the rescued captives' tearful thanks with a smile, but he did not let it go to his head. At the end of the day, he had come here for personal revenge, not justice. If Luf had not died during that potion trial, Victor never would have come here at all.

Once he had spent enough time opening all the cages, the three members of the Phantom Troupe gathered people together and carried the pirate corpses outside the village to burn them on pyres. As for the Devil's Puffball residue, they were fortunate that snow had drifted down all night, burying most of the foul stench in the soil. Once the weather warmed and spring returned, nature would break it down on its own.

The only real problem was one particular pirate barracks, the place where the first Devil's Puffball had detonated. Even after opening the windows for ventilation, the entire building remained filled with that strong and forceful smell to the very end. In the end, they had no choice but to burn the building together with the bodies inside.

...

Once every last issue had finally been dealt with, the Phantom Troupe escorted the captives to the village entrance and prepared to send them on their way. Victor suddenly thought of something. "Everyone, do any of you know a girl named Liss? She should be around eighteen, maybe a little older, with long hair and a pretty face. She might have been from Seagull Village before..."

He asked several times. The crowd looked at one another, passing the question around, but no one knew anything about Liss. It seemed there would be no information to gain here, so Victor spread his hands and let them go.

Then footsteps sounded. It was the girl from the night before, the one who had seemed to be living quite comfortably among the pirates, and she approached Victor to speak.

She was one of the captives too, but because she was bright-eyed and charming, she had not been sold. Now she also counted as one of the people he had saved.

In a low voice, she said, "I know the Liss you mentioned..."

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