The next evening, the tenant farmers of Corion Estate gathered in the courtyard.
Although the Festival of the Vat had been half a month ago, since the estate had finished harvesting its grapes, then as an indispensable and important ritual of the duchy's tradition... holding a small revel was only proper.
The spacious courtyard was packed with people. They were all companions who had labored together over the past few days, and from now on, they would serve this estate.
A troupe of entertainers hired from the city played lively rhythms on hand drums and tambourines, while lutes and flutes performed beautiful melodies. As a special reward from the estate owner, the center of the courtyard did not contain a wine vat. Instead, they directly used the fountain that had not yet been activated.
Everyone waited with great excitement. Finally, some time later, when the faint scent of roast meat reached their noses, the ritual began.
The master of ceremonies, butler Alfred Futi, led the crowd in first bowing respectfully to Mr. Victor Corion on the viewing platform and to his younger sister, Lady Angoulême Corion. Then he turned around, raised a wooden staff wrapped with vines, struck the ground three times, and announced the beginning of the revel.
Countless men surged in from outside the estate. Carrying wooden buckets, they poured bucket after bucket of destemmed purple grapes into the pool until the depth was enough to submerge the calves! Then more than ten lucky women who had been chosen in advance lifted their skirts, revealing healthy calves and even half their thighs, and let their men carry them on their backs into the fountain basin.
To the sound of music and drums, the women began dancing happily in the pool. They crushed the grapes beneath their feet, bursting out purple juice that dyed their fair calves dark... and the crowd around them, men and women alike, also encircled the pool and joined in the cheering and dancing.
At this moment, platter after platter of roasted thick-cut steaks was brought out. Pork, beef, and mutton were laid out into a lavish feast, forcibly turning the scene into a picture of bacchanalian plenty.
Yet the courtyard's passionate revelry still lacked one decisive factor before it could truly boil over. Thus the master of ceremonies, Alfred Futi, calmly walked up onto the viewing platform.
The bald man wearing sunglasses, Alfred Futi, came from a family of butlers spanning three generations. The high-collared Toussaint butler's uniform was a perfect match for him. In fact, all his clothes differed only in color. Their style was exactly the same.
Alfred placed a hand over his chest in salute. "Sir, my lady, please go indoors and rest. The ritual is complete. Remaining here to enjoy the festivities with them would damage your reputation and dignity, and they would also be unable to fully relax."
The wording the butler had chosen sounded as though it contained deeper meaning.
Victor appreciated this kind of wordplay, and he also liked the service Mr. Butler had provided over this past period, so he looked happily toward Angoulême. After receiving the nod of approval from his younger sister's Eagle Eye vision, the elder brother looked toward the outstanding member of the Futi family.
He took out a ring of keys and handed it to the man. "Congratulations on passing your trial period, Mr. Alfred. From now on, you are the butler of Corion Estate. All trivial affairs inside and outside the estate will be handled by you. Angoulême and I hold equal authority. If our orders conflict, after you fulfill your duty to inform her, if she insists, follow her version unless I change it again."
"I shall remember your instructions, sir. Sir, miss, I, Alfred Futi, am honored to serve you both in the years to come." After speaking, the man in sunglasses bowed deeply, establishing the status of master and servant.
And his words were not entirely politeness. After spending this time together, he had come to like these siblings very much. The elder brother was a man who truly possessed elegant bearing and noble magnanimity, while the younger sister, though rough, was also frank and sincere. Serving them felt good.
Victor reached out and lightly patted the butler's arm, the corners of his mouth rising. "There is one more important matter. Alfred is a bit too formal. May we call you Alfie?"
Alfie straightened and adjusted his sunglasses. "Of course."
Before leaving, Victor saw everyone dancing in the square and could not help saying with emotion, "Be careful not to let them get too wild. Public fighting is forbidden in the courtyard. If they want to fight, they can find a place and do it in private!"
His wording was too subtle, and Butler Alfie had to turn it around in his mind before understanding. The master's use of language was indeed excellent.
After respectfully seeing the two of them indoors, Alfie left the viewing platform. And once the crowd noticed the masters had departed, the atmosphere of revelry suddenly heated up. The whole place boiled over!
...
On this fiery night of passionate songs and energetic dances, many stories of dance battles occurred. For example, somewhere on Corion Estate.
Kris kept twisting his waist. "Kardashian, I want to hold you like this and fly all the way to the edge of the sky!"
Kardashian also swayed her hips. "Right now I feel thrilled, scared, excited, happy, and blessed all at once. I'm just worried Khloé might have a problem..."
Kris grinned so widely his gums showed. "Relax, she has her left and right guardians protecting her. Don't worry about her. Just enjoy this moment! It's an opportunity money can't buy. The last time I held you tight was in the vineyard, but it was never as joyful as tonight. I like you so, so much."
"Me too!"
"What did you say? I didn't hear clearly."
Kardashian shouted in delight, "Me too, me too! However much you have, I have just as much! No, no, I have even more than you!"
Kris laughed. "You can't have more than me, because I'm already full!"
Kardashian refused to back down and countered sweetly, "You're full? Then I'm overflowing!"
Ha ha, hm hm, ho ho, hee hee, hey hey.
In short, there was no moon tonight, and all around Corion Estate, there were shadowy corners everywhere.
...
While cups clinked beside the bonfires and the crowd cheered with joy, Mr. Victor, as the leader, still could not rest. He was working diligently in the winery, supervising the operation of the pressing machinery!
Although before leaving he had forbidden the crowd from fighting openly in the courtyard, there was no choice but to put a question mark over how well that would be implemented. Gods knew what mysterious liquids or impurities would get mixed into the grape juice in the pool. This kind of magical juice naturally could not be used for winemaking. Just imagining it made one's scalp tingle.
The grape juice truly meant for winemaking was all pressed fresh by machine and flowed directly into the great cellar to ferment. As for Victor's so-called supervision, it consisted of standing nearby and using a specially ordered super-large cauldron to perform secondary processing on the inferior oak barrels purchased from the Cooper's Guild.
This cauldron was made of steel, with a diameter and depth of six feet each. Its capacity was more than enough to boil oak barrels. Victor, the woodworking expert who had once been active in Kaer Morhen, had returned to the stage, using the masterpiece he had observed during his visit to the Cooper's Guild as a model.
Angoulême, who had just returned from a business trip to Beauclair that afternoon and was yawning beside him, curiously stuck her head into an oak barrel that had come out of the pot earlier. She was immediately stimulated by the barrel's smell and could not help sneezing several times in a row.
"Vic, I know using oak barrels to make wine adds flavor, but why are you making so many different kinds of barrels?"
Although she did not understand the trade, just by looking at the finished products Victor had made, she could see that the material of each barrel and the degree of charring inside were slightly different. They were obviously not a unified specification.
While stirring the cauldron, Victor answered, "Because I don't know which one will be suitable either. Leaving aside heavy toasting for now, different types of oak, when lightly toasted, can produce different aromas such as cream, fruit, cedar, and minerals. Medium toasting can bring changes like caramel, chocolate, vanilla, clove, or coffee!
"There are too many ratios to try, so I decided to later remove impurities from the pressed grape juice, purify it, and carry out unified fermentation, then divide it into various small barrels to test which one is most suitable. The first-ever collector's edition Lafite, of course, has to be the one that best suits our taste."
"What kind of wine will it be?"
"For the first-generation Lafite, I expect the wine to show a ruby-red color, with aromas of strawberry jam, blackcurrant, pencil lead, minerals, and smoke. The body will be complete and powerful, the flavor rich and intense, the mouthfeel as delicate and smooth as velvet, elegant, lingering, mellow, and overflowing with fragrance. It will be suitable for immediate tasting and also for long-term cellaring."
Angoulême licked her lips. "...What a beautiful description. It sounds delicious. After hearing you talk about it, I really want to try it!"
Victor chuckled and knocked the cauldron. "No problem. As one of the only two wine tasters, I guarantee you'll drink until you're satisfied!"
The girl strolled to the side of an unprocessed wooden barrel and immediately spotted a crack. Fire surged up in her at once. "Motherfucker! Those bastards from the Cooper's Guild really did give us inferior goods!"
"No choice. We're still outsiders. Crespi only has to go say a few bad things, and the others, afraid we'll waste them, naturally won't want to give us good things. After Lafite is born, every single bastard who had a hand in this, one by one, will all retire early!"
"How about I make a trip to Belgaard Estate right now and take care of that shitty count? Calculating the time, if I set off now, I'll arrive right around midnight!"
"No! We are civilized people. Don't try to murder someone and dirty your own hands at every turn. As long as you act, there will always be clever people who can guess.
"Besides, he was champion of several Tourneys. Doing it cleanly and neatly would not be so easy. So endure it for now. I swear by the Umbrella crest of the Corion family that bad people will surely suffer divine punishment!"
Angoulême blinked. As a troupe member who possessed a unique understanding of her leader's nature, she relaxed. Since a devious fellow like Victor had said this, Count Crespi's future definitely would not be too good.
The colorful light of completed alchemy shone. After lifting out the finished oak barrel, Victor pulled over a chair and sat down to rest. "Stop thinking about all that nonsense. Come tell me the results of this business trip to Beauclair!"
Angoulême shrugged, also pulled over a chair, and took several documents from her small bag, handing them over. "I went to the Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery south of Beauclair like you said to investigate, but by the time I got there, grave robbers had already visited this Professor Moreau ahead of me. They hadn't even put the coffin lid back on properly. I don't know what they took.
"I thought he looked pitiful, so after I put the coffin lid back and buried the soil again, his ghost suddenly jumped out, pointed at the epitaph on the tombstone, and then disappeared.
"I guessed he might have wanted to say something, but I couldn't read the words on it, so I made a rubbing and brought it back for you. That folded thick sheet is Professor Moreau's Epitaph."
Putting away the other documents, Victor directly spread out the thick sheet, then recited the words. "'Salvation lies not in Dol Naev'de, but within our hearts.'
"Heh, it's normal that you couldn't read it. His epitaph is written in Elder Speech. Combining his lifelong work and deeds, I can roughly guess its meaning.
"The Valley of the Nine, which the elves call Dol Naev'de, his laboratory is east of Beauclair, north of Belgaard Vineyard, in a place now submerged by the Sansretour.
"Comparing it to the ancient map of Toussaint that Keira got for me, an on-site investigation should allow me to find the entrance. A mage's laboratory is relatively dangerous. Once the red wine work at hand is finished, you guard the home, and I'll go explore alone."
After speaking, the alchemist stood and was about to continue making oak barrels when, without warning, the girl suddenly shouted loudly from behind him, "Vic! I want to ask you for something! Please make me a Grass Draught, all right? I want to become a witcher too!"
Shaken by the sudden request, Victor turned around with a whoosh and stared at Angoulême. "Do you know what you're saying? That means becoming one of those mutant freaks everyone fears. Why do you want to become a witcher?"
The troupe member, who had gathered her courage, crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her two caterpillar-like thick eyebrows tangled together, and her bright eyes stared straight at her leader.
"I want to mutate! Because witchers have strong bodies and better combat strength! I still remember being knocked down by a single roar from that vampire woman... And I also want to wear iron armor. More than that, I want a long lifespan! I don't want to grow old and weak after only a few short years, be forced to retire, randomly marry someone, have children, and then die!"
After shouting all the worries she had held over this period in one breath, the air suddenly fell silent. Only the sound of grape juice continuously flowing into the great cellar went on trickling.
After listening to Angoulême's rapid-fire statement, Victor rubbed the faint new stubble on his chin and thought for less than ten seconds before nodding readily. "Sure! What's the problem with that? I'll remember it. When I find the opportunity, I'll make you the Grass Draught most suitable for you, with a one-hundred-percent success rate!"
The girl, who had originally thought she would need to plead bitterly and explain again and again, froze at once. "Wait... you agreed? You... you don't want to stop me?" The young man's agreement had been so easy that it made the hesitation and confusion in her heart over these past days seem very foolish.
The young man spread his hands. "Why would I stop you? This is a good thing! From the very beginning, I felt there was nothing wrong with mutating a little. The ones with problems have always been you locals, with your utterly senseless discrimination and pity.
"But let me say this first! The price of a trial that is guaranteed to succeed is that the process will be very, very painful. You have to prepare yourself mentally!"
"No problem! No matter how painful it is, I can accept it!" The girl, her heart full of joy, answered with ringing force.
Hearing Angoulême's resounding determination, Victor found it very interesting. Speaking of which, this was the second time he had heard determination. He wondered where Leo, the first person with determination, was now, and whether he was doing well.
...
In the past, Adam de Guy, the owner of The Cockatrice Inn, most liked to hold a mug of beer and tell everyone the origin of the inn's name.
The story went like this. When de Guy was young, he had served as the squire of a certain knight errant, and the two worked together to defeat a bloodthirsty cockatrice. To commend his contribution, the knight hung the evil beast's head at the door and allowed him to open The Cockatrice Inn.
It was truly a good story.
Unfortunately, not long ago, a female traveler from the North exposed that the head was not a cockatrice at all, but a shoddy imitation pieced together from the body parts of a pheasant, a weasel, and a pig!
De Guy's pride was dealt a heavy blow, so he took down the monster head and never mentioned that story again. However, the inn's name did not change, and the deliciousness of the crawfish chowder did not fade.
Tonight, inside The Cockatrice Inn, there was a nervous man and woman in the corner. They were drinking crawfish chowder and looked as if they were lovers eloping.
"Sasha, listen carefully. In a moment, I'll go out and draw them away, leading the villains north. Use the chance to escape. I'm sorry, this is all I can still do to help you. From here on, you'll have to walk your own road."
"Thank you, Leo. You've already done enough for me. Without you, I would have died in the jungle long ago. Thank you."
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