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

Freya grants us love, hate, and strength... May the goddess bless your path, and keep it forever free from evil.

, Priestess Josta

...

Carrying the priestess's heartfelt blessing with them, the three rode south at an easy pace and knocked on the gates of Lofoten.

Just as Svani had said, this village was prosperous and full of life. It had every sort of useful amenity, an inn, stables, a smithy, a general store, and of course the most important thing of all, the public hot springs.

Thanks to Freya's Temple and Freya's Garden, there were plenty of pilgrims coming and going, and no shortage of sightseers either. So as the largest nearby village, its bathing facilities had already become lightly commercialized, cleanly divided into a men's bath and a women's bath.

Victor had tried the hot springs for the first time a few days earlier and taken to them immediately. With his limited knowledge, he guessed the waters at Lofoten were probably sodium bicarbonate springs, because there was no sulfur smell, they did not taste salty, and the temperature was pleasantly high.

So the boy discussed it with his two companions, and by talking up the beauty benefits, how good it was for the skin and how it could leave it soft and smooth, he convinced them to stay here a few more days and properly wash away the fatigue they had built up over the course of their travels.

Describing how Victor soaked in the men's bath would definitely get me accused of padding the chapter, so let's cut the camera over to Angoulême and Cerys and describe how they used the women's bath instead.

********, either it'd be all mosaics or all blinding light. Fine, let's just pretend this world doesn't have a women's bath and cut back to the men's side.

Wait!!

...After installing the censorship filter, it should be safe now.

...

Wrapped in a bath towel in the changing room, Angoulême stepped outside to meet up with Cerys. Even after staying here several days, she still was not used to wearing the emperor's new clothes, and thankfully Sparrowhawk was not used to it either, so she did not stand out too much.

The moment the two towel-clad women appeared together in the women's bath, it was obvious they were out-of-towners. Under the watchful eyes of countless local elder women, the pair washed themselves with easy composure.

Then, following Victor's proudly shared bathing expertise, they each drank two big cups of lightly salted water and entered the steam room to sweat and warm up their bodies.

When they opened the thick wooden door, steam came rolling out, and there were already two people sitting inside, both of whom happened to know Angoulême and Cerys.

The younger one smiled brightly and waved at them. "Ha! What a coincidence, running into you two here. Come in already and shut the door, don't let all the steam out."

This lively young woman was named Astrid. She was only a few years older than Cerys, yet was already married, running the village stables together with her husband.

Over the past several days, Angoulême and the others had obviously not spent all their time cooped up inside the village. They often went out to hunt or take in the scenery, and naturally, with all the coming and going through the stables, they had become familiar with her.

The other woman, gentle and dignified, was Astrid's mother, someone they also ran into often.

The two women in towels smiled, came in, closed the door, and sat down on the long stone bench.

Astrid scooped up a ladle of hot water and poured it over the glowing red stones in the middle, and a fresh wave of steam filled the room.

The young woman knocked on the partition, signaling for more fire and heat from outside, then sat back down and looked at Angoulême and Cerys.

"You've both been staying here for several days now, and you're still not used to it? It's all women here, no need to be shy. You've got what I've got." She teased them with a grin.

At the joke, Angoulême coughed twice and kept her expression steady. "I... it's not because I'm shy. It just feels colder today."

Astrid pulled a face. "Sure it is. You seriously expect me to believe that?"

"That's enough, child. Don't make fun of the guests. You should respect the way other people choose to live," her mother scolded.

Cerys smiled and nodded to the older woman.

Used to being scolded by her mother, the younger woman did not care much. She picked up a towel and wiped the beads of sweat from her body, then changed the subject with perfect ease. "So, are you heading out to play nearby today? If you're leaving the village, I can tell Skjall to get the horses ready ahead of time."

Skjall was Astrid's brother, an earnest young man who helped his sister and brother-in-law run the stables.

Feeling her body gradually warming, Angoulême patted her cheeks. "It's fine. Vic always finishes bathing before we do. He'll stop by the stables himself to let them know first."

The young woman nodded. "Still, there really aren't many travelers who stay this many days in a row. Do you like it here that much?"

"It's nice enough. The people here are all pretty good, and Vic really likes the hot springs. He says a few days of soaking helps get rid of sore muscles," Cerys answered casually.

Astrid's expression turned teasing. "Oh, speaking of Vic, just asking quietly here, which one of you has that kind of relationship with him? Or is it both of you?"

As if afraid they would not understand, when she asked the question she even made an indecent hand gesture, curling the fingers of one hand into a circle and pointing two fingers of the other through it.

Sparrowhawk instantly felt the blood rush to her face and had no idea how to answer, but luckily the steam room was doing its job so well that she had already flushed red, making it impossible to tell the difference.

Angoulême, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm. "You're overthinking it. Neither of us is. The captain isn't my type, and he's too young."

The young woman immediately pressed the advantage. "Then do either of you happen to like my brother? He's honest, he's grown a pretty good beard, and more importantly, he's big."

The turn that took hit Angoulême and Cerys so hard that both were left speechless.

"Enough, Astrid. I know you're worried about Skjall's marriage prospects, but that doesn't give you the right to embarrass our guests." Once again, it was the older mother who stepped in to stop her.

Given a chance to escape, and with their bodies now properly warmed, Sparrowhawk tugged her companion up by the hand and smiled as she nodded to Astrid and her mother. "It was lovely chatting with you. We're heading out to soak now."

The layout of Lofoten's bathhouse was built along the mountain, with gaps sealed by thick wooden fencing. Once you came out of the steam room, the hot pool was only a few steps to the left.

According to Victor's soaking lessons, after warming up in the steam room, the next step was to enter the hot spring. Wrapping towels around their hair, the two women began with a half-soak and only immersed themselves fully once they had grown used to the heat.

Quite a few local women passed by as they came and went, and whenever they went by Angoulême and Cerys, they smiled and greeted them. After all, over the past few days the travelers had spent generously and treated everyone kindly, making them excellent guests.

The two chatted as they soaked in the hot spring until the heat became almost unbearable, then tossed back a glass of high-proof whiskey and leaped into the cold pool, which was only around ten degrees.

Once their skin tightened and they gradually grew used to the chill, they would go back to the changing room to drink water, head to the steam room to warm up again, and then return to the hot spring, repeating the entire cycle about two or three times.

This was the bathing method Victor had taught them, and he practiced it himself as well. The only difference was that instead of high-proof whiskey, he used hot milk.

...

Late that night, after finishing his alchemy for the evening, Victor leisurely opened the door and stepped outside, carrying a change of clothes with him as he wandered over to the men's bath for one last wash before bed.

That afternoon's hunting had not been especially intense, but he had still worked up a sweat. For a boy as clean-loving as Victor, washing several times a day whenever conditions allowed was simply normal. Besides, tomorrow they would be leaving Lofoten for Lurthen in the south, so naturally he intended to make the most of the chance and enjoy it properly.

At this hour there was no one else around, and with the whole large space to himself, the boy sank into the spring, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift empty and weightless. Suddenly countless hot-spring-related scenes flashed through his mind.

Picking up a towel to cover his face, he sank into those precious memories, those things he could never, ever see again... censored.

He had no idea how much time passed before he suddenly heard footsteps. A boy who had once been ambushed by Tailles should have become alert at once, but these footsteps sounded strangely familiar, so he did not immediately sense anything wrong.

Not until the water began to slosh, and that person entered the spring and sat down beside him.

Victor instantly realized something was very wrong. Just moments ago he had been thinking about those hot spring memories. Was this what it meant for dreams to come true!?

He did not dare take the towel off his face, and his body stiffened slightly.

"Why'd you sneak out in the middle of the night? Is this one of your private health regimens?" Sparrowhawk's voice was soft, lacking its usual crisp boldness.

The moment his arm moved, it brushed against her arm, and Victor's body stiffened even more.

He coughed twice. "Soaking at night does help with sleep. But why did you come here? This is the men's bath."

"There isn't anyone else around anyway. Soaking alone is boring. With two people, at least we can talk, right?"

Victor slipped into a mild petrified state. After thinking for a moment, he still agreed.

"You do have a point. Then I'll tell you a story. Since you're a princess, I'll tell you a story about a princess becoming a king..."

When it came to this sort of territory, Victor had always been a passive person. And after spending these days together, Cerys had become such a cheerful and good friend that he did not want to misunderstand her intentions, so he resolved that if the enemy did not move, he would not move either, and instead tell her a story she would definitely find interesting.

"A princess can become a king too!?" Sure enough, Sparrowhawk's tone instantly became bright and clear, no longer carrying that hazy, suggestive quality from a moment before.

Victor immediately broke free of his petrified state and answered gently, "Of course she can. What I'm going to tell you is the story of the first queen of Bell Town, far to the east of Zerrikania."

The soft sound of water being stirred rustled beside him. "The first queen... go on, I'm looking forward to it."

The sound of the water reminded the boy that he was currently wearing the emperor's new clothes. His right hand fumbled around for a towel, and he casually stuffed it underwater to cover himself.

Then his warm voice drifted out over the spring. "A long, long time ago, there was an island called Britain, and on that island there was a princess named Victoria..."

...

"...And so, Victoria led the people of Britain into an age of prosperity and grandeur, what became known as the empire on which the sun never set."

Halfway through the story they had still been talking back and forth, with Cerys gasping and marveling now and then, but once the story ended, she suddenly fell silent. If not for the faint rustling sounds beside him, Victor might even have thought she had already gotten up and left.

The wooden walls kept out the cold wind, and only thin flakes of snow drifted down.

After a long while, she finally spoke.

"That's a really interesting story. So what you're saying is that women aren't actually inferior to men... that what men can do, women can do too, right?"

Her conclusion was forceful, but her tone was strangely gentle.

Feeling the pressure of that argument from right beside him, the boy answered carefully and tactfully, "Most of the time, yes, that's not wrong... but there are still some things where division of roles leaves room for discussion. At the very least, men can't get pregnant."

"Hehehehe..." After hearing his added explanation, Cerys suddenly laughed with startling cheer.

Then in the very next instant, the water splashed, and through the towel over his face Victor felt weight settle onto him. He petrified on the spot.

I am Iron Man!!!

"You want to get me pregnant."

Sparrowhawk phrased it like a question, but her tone made it a statement.

My drill is the drill that pierces the heavens!!!

A corner of the towel covering his face was lifted, and warm softness brushed against his lips. She was kissing him.

The situation was on the verge of erupting, but sadly, at that very moment the wooden wall suddenly began pounding with loud thuds, and a shout echoed across the bathhouse.

"Captain! Captain! There's an emergency!"

The voice yelling through the wooden boards was Vigi's. He had supposedly followed Svani to Larvik, so how the hell had he ended up here in Lofoten!?

With a sharp whip of motion, the towel around Victor's waist was yanked away, and the weight vanished too. Water sloshed, then footsteps hurried off into the distance.

Tearing the towel off his face, Victor's expression overflowed with pure masculine fury. He let out a roar no less fierce than a Dragon Shout. "Vigi, shut your damned mouth and get back to the inn! Even if the sky is falling and the king is dead, it can wait until I've finished my bath!"

After that thunderous outburst, iron boots crunched over the snow, and silence returned outside the wall.

He said that, but Victor still hurriedly got out of the spring and dressed. He knew Vigi would never run all this way for nothing.

Rushing back to the inn where they were staying, Victor listened to the explanation and then stared blankly. "So... King Bran is dead!?"

Vigi nodded heavily, his face grim and tinged with sorrow.

Shoving the rogue aside, panic flared in the boy's heart. No... that's impossible... I can't have remembered wrong. King Bran's funeral, and the six claimants fighting over the throne afterward, that was supposed to happen after Ciri returned. It was one of the major story beats from the game.

The problem was that Geralt was still nowhere to be seen, so how could King Bran be dead already? How could he die now!?

The death of Skellige's king was no small matter. It would affect any number of things, trigger countless changes, maybe even shatter the storyline he remembered altogether.

Bang!

The door to the room was shoved open. Angoulême and Cerys came in after being informed. Vigi had not traveled alone this time, he had also come with a guide and messenger sent by Svani.

Victor took a deep breath and calmed down again, then turned to the rogue. "So it's basically confirmed now, King Bran suffered a sudden heart attack in the night, and despite emergency treatment, he died."

Vigi nodded heavily again. "Yes. The notice of death was issued jointly by Clan Tuirseach and Clan an Craite. As soon as Svani got the news, she sent me to notify you at once and tell the princess to return to Kaer Trolde as quickly as possible."

Victor rubbed his nose and suddenly felt that something was off. Mist seemed to be spreading across his thoughts. Why was Clan an Craite co-signing Clan Tuirseach's notice of death? And why had Kaer Trolde been chosen as the place for the funeral rites? Wouldn't Urialla Harbor have worked just as well?

Seeing Victor sink into thought and say nothing, Cerys spoke up. "No matter what, with something like this, none of the clan chiefs and their relatives across Skellige will stay away. I'm going to have a horse prepared right now and ride back to Larvik to catch a ship. Will you come with me?"

The princess asked all of them, but her eyes were only on one person.

Victor looked up. In those few brief moments, he had already made his decision. This concerned how reliable the "prophet" truly was. He had to attend King Bran's funeral and confirm what had caused his death to come so early.

Victor nodded solemnly. "We'll go back together. As Dovahkiin acknowledged by King Bran himself, I want to see him off on his final journey too."

...

In the middle of the night, the one who opened the stable for the group and led out the horses was Astrid's brother, the honest brown-haired, brown-eyed young man named Skjall.

Lagging behind at the end, Angoulême slipped a small pouch of crowns into the young man's hand and patted him on the arm. "Thanks for all your help these past few days!"

Skjall smiled with honest warmth. "No need to thank me. It's what I should do. You're welcome back in Lofoten any time."

The girl nodded in agreement.

And so, the Phantom Troupe and Sparrowhawk's party led their horses out through the north gate of the village and rode off eastward.

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