Chapter 110: The Steel Sword, the Silver Sword, and the Prophet

That evening, on the second floor of the Lindenville village tavern, amid the raucous sounds of drinking contests and dice games downstairs, there came a sharp knock on the door.

The door opened, and Angeline took the tray with both hands, smiling warmly. “Thank you, brave Charlie.”

Charlie, the tavern’s owner, responded with a grim smile that bordered on terrifying before heading downstairs and leaving.

His face had been slashed during the Battle of Brenner; his nose was nearly severed in two, twisted skin and flesh creating a fearsome visage. Hence, he was known as “Brave Charlie.”

The nickname carried a double meaning—one, to commend Charlie’s fearless battle spirit that earned him such a wound; two, to face that disfigured face without fear required true courage.

Placing the tray on the table, the young woman handed milk and bread to Victor. “So you mean that once this turmoil passes, we can still return to Temoria openly and freely?”

Victor took a gulp of milk before replying, “Yes. On the way here, I kept wondering why no bounty was issued and the background behind the whole affair. Eventually, I concluded that returning to Vigima city might cause some trouble—I offended Director Taler quite severely—but elsewhere in Temoria, we can move without hindrance.”

After hearing Victor’s explanation, Angeline finally grasped what had happened over ten days ago: why the Pound Seven operation was suddenly launched, and the subtle dangers entangled within.

“So you say that through meditation, you’ve understood many things. What exactly did you realize?”

Setting down the milk cup, Victor sighed deeply, his serious demeanor prompting Angeline to listen intently.

“Well… you know the phrase ‘time and circumstance change,’ meaning when situations shift, people change with them.

“Before entering Vigima, my goal was to learn traditional alchemy, to find the right formula for a safe ‘herbal potion.’

“But there, I met many people and faced many events. In the end, I found my path to mastery not through complex formulas but through something as simple as crafting a Batman-like costume.

“If I can become a master of miraculous alchemy, I won’t have to worry about how to blend herbal potions anymore.

“It’s like making an erection tonic: put all the proven effective ingredients in, stir to eliminate side effects, and the product is exactly what I need. No need to consider monarchs, ministers, assistants, or medicinal properties—it’s as simple as cooking tomato soup.”

Angeline was somewhat taken aback but, upon reflection, agreed with Victor’s reasoning.

“So the focus has shifted—to how to become a master of miraculous alchemy.

“I remember telling you before: grandmother likes helping others, Auntie Three loves traveling, and I love freedom. Now, I’m ready to combine these three—traveling freely while doing good deeds.

“My original plan of living low-key was thrown into chaos by Dandrian. If he hadn’t framed me, we could have lived in Vigima to reach true mastery.

“But it’s not so bad now. That city is tangled in too many conspiracies, with overwhelming armed forces—not suitable for a straightforward, honest young man like me.”

Finishing his bread and sipping more milk, Victor blinked thoughtfully. Angeline considered, deciding not to tease him about being “straightforward and honest.” After this parting, the captain, tempered by meditation, clearly no longer wished to hide his unique sense of humor and aesthetic.

Looking at his current outfit—it was indeed striking, perhaps too flamboyant. Angeline hoped the captain wouldn’t suddenly go mad and try to get her a matching set. The last “Catwoman” ensemble still gave her nightmares.

“Alright… then let’s talk about this afternoon. Why did you suddenly say you wanted to open a shop and invite Yuna to be the master craftsman?”

Victor set down his empty milk cup, closed his eyes, and after a long pause said, “It’s time I told you—I’m actually a seer. I can glimpse fragments of the future.”

In the world of monster hunting, prophecies were not uncommon—like the widely known “Islin Prophecy,” or the tragic “Black Sun Curse.” Recently, figures like Jacques of Aldburg had also preached about the end of the world.

Victor was not a man prone to nonsense—or rather, he loved nonsense, but when serious, what he said usually carried some weight.

So Angeline calmly asked, “What kind of prophecy?”

“Certain people or events trigger visions of the future. For example, when you argued with Fex today, I suddenly saw that woman—a master blacksmith—and saw her forging armor for us in the ‘Crow’s Nest’ to the southwest.

“I can’t explain why the image shows the Crow’s Nest, only guess that they might work there later.”

Angeline nodded. “I see. No wonder you were willing to wait ten days in the village. But if we now invite them to Novigrad, wouldn’t that make your prophecy invalid? Is it really that easy to change the future?”

Opening his eyes, looking at the “once changed future” before him—the present moment—Victor answered softly, “Some futures are easy to change, even appearing suddenly; but others are beyond anyone’s power—historical inevitabilities, or fate.”

...

That afternoon, through the gracious introductions of two kings, Yuna agreed to join Victor and Angeline in starting a business in Novigrad.

Next, the young man took in Fex at a quarter of Yuna’s salary—partly because he had both exploited and cared for Yuna, making him a decent fire assistant.

Also, even in Novigrad, having him around would save many troubles. Most people didn’t believe a human woman could forge good weapons; they were superstitious about dwarven craftsmanship.

However, closing the smithy would take time, and materials needed sorting. Victor promptly ordered new steel and silver swords from Yuna, two sets of heavy leather armor, and iron plates that could be fitted into the “Van Helsing set.”

The “Van Helsing set” was extravagant but attractive, perfectly straddling the aesthetic line acceptable in this era.

...

Curious about the prophecy, Angeline asked, “Captain, what other visions have you seen?”

Shrugging, the young man leaned back casually and began without hesitation:

“...I saw Nilfgaard marching north; Aedirn and Temoria destroyed; the land of Verlen laid waste...

“I saw witch hunts erupting in the north; mages facing annihilation...

“And the ‘Wild Hunt’ sweeping across the skies...”

At this point, Victor smiled and fell silent, noticing Angeline’s expression of disbelief.

The captain was indeed skilled at spinning tall tales, Angeline thought, shaking her head.

Yawning, she said, “Thanks for your prophecy. I’m going to sleep now! I can’t wait to get to Novigrad.”

Watching Angeline’s retreating figure, Victor gently pushed up his sunglasses. “How many destinies can be changed if I can change yours?”

...

At the same time, on the outskirts of Erland City—the Meritaly Temple—

Outside, heavy rain poured and thunder rumbled, just like the weather when the young man first handed over “the thing” to her.

Nannick, the plump caretaker, adjusted her posture in the throne-like armchair, seeking a more comfortable seat.

The high priestess’s visitor tonight was a druid, who had traveled all the way from the Skellige Isles to the Meritaly Temple, seeking the secret elixir recently famed among northern rulers.

He bowed respectfully. “Honored lady, ‘Stormbringer’! I have come for it.”

Lightning cracked and thunder roared, casting flickering shadows across his face.