Victor had read about Hanmarvyn's Blue Dream in books, so he understood the ritual's limitations and dangers perfectly well. Since it involved the Kingslayers' secrets, he did not want anyone else browsing through Auckes's memories. He therefore decided to participate voluntarily.
Wiping the remaining potion from the corner of his mouth, the witcher walked over to the mortuary table.
"Dethmold, I'm ready. I hope your control is steady enough."
"Excellent. Let us begin! The Blue Dream is a very useful spell, although it can only reveal memories from shortly before the killer's death. Once you enter the dream, remember every detail. Places, names, everything," Dethmold instructed earnestly.
Victor gazed at Auckes's frozen smile and answered calmly, "Don't worry, I will. I'll remember everything, on my grandmother's honor."
Although Victor's tone seemed slightly peculiar, Dethmold did not think much of it. He raised his staff, moved it through the air, and began chanting while making intricate gestures.
As the spell began, Victor could neither understand the incantation nor decipher the mysterious gestures. However, with his extraordinarily powerful Magic Sense, he could directly perceive the path taken by the flowing magical energy.
Comparing the structure against what he already knew, he discovered that the spell operated somewhat similarly to Axii.
Perhaps if it were incorporated into a Sign, it could create an effect resembling the manipulation of illusions.
The next instant, it felt as though he were reading a dream crystal or diving into deep water. With an almost audible splash, his entire consciousness sank into the vision.
...
The dream unfolded from a first-person perspective.
Mist filled his vision.
Once the mist parted, a strangely familiar valley appeared.
Ignoring Victor's desire to pause and observe his surroundings, the vision continued playing.
Sheer cliffs rose on both sides of the narrow path. The landscape consisted mainly of obsidian, with sparse vegetation growing along the roadside.
When they passed a crossroads marked by a wooden altar, Victor suddenly recognized the place.
This was the quarry ravine east of Vergen. Not long ago, he had helped a married pair of trolls reconcile somewhere nearby.
Serrit wore leather armor, with a scarf and headband covering much of his head, making him resemble a masked infiltrator.
"Damn it, I nearly got lost in that mist."
"Look on the bright side. Nobody will find us here," Auckes replied.
He was also dressed in leather armor, but had pulled a hood over his hair.
Serrit gave a cold laugh.
"Anyone who wants to find this place would have to see Henselt attack Vergen despite the mist, and we both know that will never happen."
"Hahaha! If all goes well, Henselt will soon be incapable of attacking anyone ever again."
They reached a cave while speaking.
An obsidian door blocked its entrance, its surface carved by elves with patterns of flowers and birds.
Serrit produced a key and opened the door, then turned around and tossed a spare key to Auckes.
"Auckes, you're always so optimistic. I hope you'll still be this cheerful when the day comes for you to die. Wait, slow down here. From this point on, follow my exact route."
Auckes caught the key and put it away before lowering his gaze toward the ground.
As an upright and honorable witcher, as well as a seasoned connoisseur of traps and veteran hunter of Kaer Morhen, Victor immediately identified seven or eight suspicious bulges filled with danger.
As they walked through the dark cave, Auckes continued making filthy jokes.
"Oh, Serrit, how I adore these traps. Bear traps are my true love. The instant you step on one, your arse blossoms wide open..."
"I love them too, so watch your step. More seriously, Henselt's behavioral patterns are proving very helpful to us."
Despite his frivolous tone, Auckes followed Serrit with great care.
"What behavioral patterns? I don't understand what you mean."
"It's a term invented by Victor to explain a person's habitual behavior. As you've seen, Henselt loves pretending to be a common soldier. He runs around everywhere, and he's reckless and bold."
"So that's what it means. That certainly makes him easier to target. If Henselt hadn't personally led his army to the front, it would have been difficult for us to enter his palace and assassinate him the way we did Demavend."
Serrit sneezed violently.
"Damn it... We're finally about to take action. We've been hiding in this cave like bats for far too long."
"I'd rather live as a bat than be killed by the king's mercenaries."
"What's with all the gloomy talk, Auckes? Are you afraid?"
"Fear and caution are close cousins! I heard Dethmold follows Henselt everywhere. A witcher also entered their camp the day before yesterday. You know exactly who he is, our old friend, the White Wolf."
Serrit spat onto the side of the path.
"I know, damn it. Don't let him frighten you. Remember, there's only one of him and three of us."
"I'm more worried about Triss Merigold than Geralt."
Serrit's voice became gloomy.
"I agree. Letho should kill her. If she reveals that Síle ordered us to assassinate Demavend, the situation could spiral out of control."
Auckes answered cheerfully, "Don't be so extreme. Triss is close to the White Wolf, and she might be sleeping with Victor too. We shouldn't lay a hand on her unless there's absolutely no other choice, aye."
"You bastard, stop imitating dwarves!"
Their conversation ended as Serrit pushed open another dense stone door.
Beyond it lay a vast chamber.
The burly kingslayer Letho sat beside a campfire like a great bear taking an afternoon nap.
...
The three members of the School of the Viper were finally gathered together.
A faint smile appeared on Letho's granite-like face.
"You finally made it. What's the situation?"
With his scarf and headband making him resemble a masked cutthroat, Serrit shrugged.
"Patrols, watchtowers, everything you could imagine. The Kaedweni soldiers are guarding their camp as tightly as they'd guard a princess's chastity."
"Anything else?"
Letho's serpentine eyes remained unmoved as he looked expressionlessly toward his other companion.
With his hood covering most of his face and giving him the appearance of an assassin, Auckes licked his lips.
"The White Wolf arrived at the Kaedweni camp with Vernon Roche. It appears he's working for Henselt now."
Letho's gaze flickered.
"I would rather Henselt had hired someone else."
"As long as he remains an amnesiac, we should be safe." Auckes picked up a skewer of meat beside the fire and tore into it with his teeth.
Looking grim, Letho of Gulet tossed several pieces of firewood into the flames.
"Quite the opposite. That's precisely what makes him dangerous. We must be careful, especially now that we've broken with Iorveth and his people."
Serrit opened a wineskin and took a drink.
"Letho, there's another matter I'd like your opinion on. Síle de Tansarville has already completed her task. It seems we no longer need her."
"Serrit is right," Auckes added. "Our sorceress has worked very hard. Should we deal with her?"
"No. Killing her is not our highest priority," Letho decided. "The most important task now is eliminating Henselt. You two should leave immediately."
Auckes lowered his head in acceptance.
"Understood. You know more about this than we do."
"What about you? Aren't you coming with us?" Serrit asked in confusion.
Letho's eyes were resolute.
"I must go to Loc Muinne first. Everything will be decided there. If you act carefully, we'll soon be reunited."
Auckes raised his wineskin.
"Then we can drink together and laugh about it?"
"I hope so."
Letho and Serrit both raised their wineskins in response.
...
The vision was once again concealed by thick mist.
When it cleared, Letho had disappeared. Auckes and Serrit were walking along a rugged mountain trail toward the Kaedweni camp.
Auckes, with his assassin-like appearance, spoke first.
"Hey, I know the mages intend to appoint a new Council and Conclave and restore the authority they lost. Every powerful and distinguished person in the North will gather there.
"But why Loc Muinne? What makes that place so special?"
Serrit, dressed like a masked infiltrator, replied, "You should read more books. Even Angoulême knows this.
"More than a thousand years ago, the sorcerer Geoffrey Monck brought the first Sources, human children with magical talent, to the elven Sages of Loc Muinne for training. That formally began humanity's age of magic."
"Hahaha! So that's the reason. It carries excellent symbolic meaning. Just imagine, so many kings and sorcerers gathered in one place..."
"Quiet. We're here."
Just as Serrit said, they had reached the Kaedweni camp during their conversation.
Watchtowers, barbicans, palisades, and anti-cavalry barricades were visible everywhere. Tall walls and multiple fortified gates surrounded the encampment.
Serrit quietly disappeared into the shadows.
"I'll deal with the palisade. We'll meet in front of the gate leading to the high ground."
The vision remained fixed on Auckes's perspective.
Victor watched as the witcher twisted and rolled through the darkness, using the tents to conceal himself while rapidly advancing toward the high ground.
Kaedwen straddled the boundary between the temperate and frigid regions, and its timber industry was renowned throughout the North.
Large wooden shields could be seen everywhere in the camp, along with high-quality spears made from solid wooden shafts.
As Auckes infiltrated the camp, Hanmarvyn's Blue Dream provided Victor with far more than vision and touch. It also carried smells and sounds, making the experience an extraordinarily intense form of virtual reality.
A bald Kaedweni soldier spoke quietly.
"Robin, I heard you hid some of the taxes we looted in a cave near the camp..."
A Kaedweni soldier wearing a fur cap immediately hissed at him.
"Quiet! Arsen, do you want someone else to hear? Who the hell told you? Damn it, keep your mouth shut and you'll receive your share."
The bald Kaedweni soldier raised his right hand.
"I swear I won't tell a soul."
The soldier in the fur cap cursed casually.
"Fuck! You lucky son of a bitch."
A unicorn banner fluttered above a flagpole.
A crow flew down and perched on top, opening its beak to croak an omen of death.
Auckes slipped past several patrols. When avoiding another finally became impossible, he approached a Kaedweni soldier from behind and assassinated him.
The man's distinctive cloak and beaver cap marked him as a member of the Dun Banner, one of the survivors of the battle several years earlier.
A brief skirmish erupted before a gate decorated with a unicorn.
In a sudden two-against-six assault, the witchers slaughtered the guards with lightning speed.
"That's all of them! What's wrong with you?"
After finishing the last soldier, Serrit walked toward Auckes and discovered that the usually cheerful witcher was cautiously scanning their surroundings.
"I thought I saw Síle just now." Auckes slightly adjusted the position of his hood.
They looked around, but the dark night had already returned to silence.
Serrit shook his head.
"Perhaps you imagined it. We don't have time to waste. Move!"
Auckes and Serrit then split up.
Shortly after Serrit charged into the king's tent from the opposite side, Auckes rushed into the tent as well.
Then...
After Auckes charged inside and struck down one of the guards, Dethmold's prepared spell hit him directly from the front.
In the final instant before his death, Auckes looked through the torn opening in the tent and saw Victor's back.
...
The dream ended completely.
Victor opened his eyes and awoke in a daze.
Staring into Victor's nine-tomoe blue Rinnegan, Dethmold rubbed his hands together excitedly.
"Heh, heh, you're finally awake! I can't wait to hear everything that happened. Tell me, what did you discover?"
Victor's eyes gradually regained their focus. Once he had steadied his emotions, the witcher slowly spoke.
"The kingslayers... They're hiding in the ravines."
The middle-aged mage raised an eyebrow.
"The others may already have escaped, but it's still a useful lead. Do you remember anything else?"
According to the conversation inside the cave, Victor's previous deduction had been proven correct.
Síle had indeed directed and participated in Demavend's assassination.
The epic Northern Wind bomb that had frozen the pleasure boat had undoubtedly been enchanted by her.
There was no reason to hide the truth for the sorceress.
Victor drew a deep breath.
"The assassins said that Síle de Tansarville was an accomplice in Demavend's murder!"
Dethmold's eyes lit up at the news.
"Síle!? She was an accomplice of the kingslayers? That explains everything. She came here while you were unconscious and said she was going to track the second assassin."
Victor's heart suddenly contracted.
Was she going to track him down or silence him?
That was the question.
The witcher abruptly rose to his feet.
"There's no time to waste. I have to leave and catch up with them!"
"Good luck, Victor. I must report this matter to the king immediately. Kaedwen thanks you for your assistance!"
After speaking, Dethmold hurried away with his men.
Once Victor saw that the tent was empty again, he retrieved the obsidian key from Auckes's clothing.
He poured oil over the corpse and cast a Sign.
"Igni!"
After setting the body ablaze, Victor departed without looking back.
He took out a Tawny Owl potion and a Werewolf decoction and drank them. The two potions would fill him with abundant vitality, allowing him to reach the misty ravines at the greatest possible speed.
...
After reaching the ravines near the quarry, Victor followed the route he had experienced in the dream.
He turned right at the crossroads marked by the wooden altar, continued to the end of the path, and used the obsidian key to unlock the stone door.
Moving with practiced, nimble steps, Victor avoided the bear traps along the way while freely swinging a silver sword in his left hand and a steel sword in his right.
He was in a very peculiar state.
Through the gift of Lightning Reflexes, he was adapting to an entirely new set of bodily memories.
Within Hanmarvyn's Blue Dream, he had experienced the final infiltration and battle of Auckes, a witcher of the School of the Viper.
After awakening, Victor had been astonished to discover that his body had copied Auckes's stealth techniques and dual-wielding swordsmanship.
That was right.
Copied.
A copy nearly indistinguishable from the original.
The discovery deeply shocked Victor.
His blue Rinnegan was not merely decorative after all. Its activation requirements were simply extraordinarily demanding.
No wonder he had somehow managed to use the Pirouette Sword Dance on impulse back in Flotsam.
After copying Auckes's skills, Victor, who had previously specialized only in the hand-and-a-half sword, could now wield a weapon freely in either hand.
To describe it in appropriately melodramatic terms, he could now call himself the Copy Witcher.
Even after years of accumulated sweat and countless trials on the edge of death, Victor had never dared call himself a master of the hand-and-a-half sword.
Yet today, he had suddenly learned to fight with two weapons. With the support of Lightning Reflexes, his new skill had instantly reached an expert level.
The sensation of becoming stronger through what amounted to blatant cheating was a miraculous experience unlike anything he had ever felt before.
...
Victor remained somewhat intoxicated by the discovery until he entered the chamber where the School of the Viper witchers had last gathered.
The moment he saw the corpse beside the campfire, he was shocked back to complete sobriety.
Serrit was dead as well.
That bastard who had always hidden his passion beneath cold indifference lay in a mangled heap, his ribs piercing through his flesh.
His expression remained cold even in death.
Since reconciling with Corion, Victor had killed many, many people.
His only limit was that he tried, whenever possible, to kill bad people. He had believed that this meant he had learned to view life and death with detachment.
Besides, the Kingslayers' difficult path was one the members of the School of the Viper had chosen for themselves.
Victor had originally believed that he could accept whatever happened to them and would certainly never grieve.
Yet as he stared at the dead Serrit and remembered Auckes's smile, he finally understood.
The two witchers who had helped him in the sewers beneath Vizima, who had drunkenly caused trouble beside the lake with him, who had gone into a cemetery with him to blow up ghouls, and who had endured the hostility of ignorant villagers beside him would never open their eyes again.
"..."
Victor gently pressed against the corpse.
Judging from the stiffness of the body, Serrit had died within the past six hours. His head was also intact, so there should be no problem.
Victor knelt beside Serrit's remains.
His nine-tomoe blue Rinnegan looked crimson and fathomless as he murmured to himself.
"Forgive me, Serrit, but I have to know who killed you. I promise that no matter who did this, I will find them.
"I will kill them..."
His decision was made.
Victor Corion, the miraculous alchemist, opened himself to his gift for hearing the Voice of Death and combined it with the flow of magical energy used in Hanmarvyn's Blue Dream.
He extended his right palm and curled his ring finger, aiming it toward Serrit.
Blood-red light revolved within his awakened Rinnegan as he roared with hatred.
"Axii: Summoning Jutsu!"
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