Chapter 134: Aromatic Black Tea and Round Buns

The rain continued to fall without any sign of stopping. Gazing at the streaks of rain outside the window, the young man wore a look of melancholy, perfectly conveying a sincere sense of grief for the victims of the tragedy.

Popping a small bread roll into his mouth and sipping the warm black tea, Caleb Menge was not joking; he had truly brought him to the local Eternal Fire garrison to enjoy afternoon tea and conversation. They sat in an exquisitely decorated room with a fine view, the opulent furnishings no less impressive than the Hawthorne estate.

Menge had confiscated his armor and weapons, promising Victor that he would provide them with the most appropriate maintenance after being exposed to the rain. Consequently, the youth was now dressed in soft, light clothing bearing the Eternal Fire insignia, likely the standard daily attire for missionaries.

The door opened, and the bald-headed Caleb Menge walked into the room, his voice low and steady. "I have submitted the investigation report. The High Protector will soon deliver a just verdict. Do not worry; in my view, you have done nothing wrong. In fact, you are also a victim. It is a pity that we could not capture that filthy monster alive; otherwise, I would have tied him to a stake, let the Eternal Fire judge his crimes, and burned away his evil."

"Thank you for your comfort, honorable Mr. Menge."

Over the past few hours, Victor had been hosted by the Temple Guard. Though it felt strange to describe the interrogation by a violent enforcement agency this way, they had indeed shown the youth a degree of propriety and kindness, rather than the arrogant bluster seen in the game. Based on his interactions, Menge was clearly a religious fanatic of the Eternal Fire, yet outside of matters of faith, his discernment and character were those of an outstanding individual. However, when faith was involved, this son of a bitch would absolutely turn his back on anyone. He was convinced he was serving a great cause and could therefore carry out any act of cruelty with a clear conscience.

Menge sat at the table, refilled the youth's tea, and picked up a bread roll to eat. "Honestly, I am quite curious about your kind. And, if I may be so bold, do you really think the world still needs witchers in this day and age?"

Victor arched an eyebrow, looking at Menge with curiosity. What was he getting at?

"Take dopplers, for example. As long as one knows that silver can force them to reveal their true form, they are not difficult to deal with. As for pests like drowners or ghouls, while we are not issued silver swords, we can clear them out just as well with steel and fire. You see, with enough courage, we humans can stand against any monster without needing you to endure great suffering and transform into..." He paused, choosing his words carefully, "...such unnatural beings."

"You can just say 'freak'," Victor shrugged.

"I cannot deny that there is some truth to what you say. Indeed, with sufficient knowledge and courage, the vast majority of monsters that witchers can fight, the Order can also fight, not to mention the elite Temple Guard. But even so, it is quite disrespectful for you to say these things to me, Mr. Menge."

"I speak to you of this because I believe there is still a chance for redemption. You have not undergone the Trial of the Grasses yet, have you? The Temple Guard welcomes young men like you—brave, fearless, and knowledgeable about monsters—to join and serve the great Eternal Fire. Our lives will be immortalized through this service. In fact, I believe much of the old world belongs in the trash heap: the crones stirring their cauldrons, the self-righteous mages, and the wanton, fallen sorceresses. They pollute the innocent lambs with superstition, and they shall eventually be... purified by the Eternal Fire."

Listening in silence to Menge’s long-winded speech, Victor had plenty of sharp, sarcastic retorts ready, but he considered that he was currently sitting inside the man's own garrison. Outside the door were at least six Temple Guards in full plate armor, equipped with crossbows and anti-magic gear, well-trained and capable of calling in massive reinforcements at the first sign of trouble. Victor lifted his tea, downed half the cup in one gulp, and swallowed the meaningless desire for a quick retort.

Seeing Victor speechless, Menge seemed to think he had swayed the youth, smiling as he picked up the teapot to refill his cup. The sound of the door opening drew their attention. Menge glanced toward the entrance and rose to bow; Victor stood as well, placing his hand over his chest in salute.

The High Protector of the Eternal Fire—His Excellency Chappelle—slowly paced into the room. "Menge, go out for a moment. I need to speak with this witcher alone."

The captain obeyed and left, closing the door firmly behind him. A brief silence fell upon the room. Chappelle stood by the window, watching the pouring rain outside. After a long while, he spoke: "A tragic day. This rain is as if the sky itself is weeping. Of the nearly one hundred people killed by the doppler, most were innocent commoners. They worked diligently and honestly, asking only for their daily bread, only to die suddenly by a heartless blade. Victor, though I know I cannot blame you, your face is truly loathsome. If I were to have you dragged out and hanged right now—no, tied to a stake and burned alive—all of Novigrad would cheer for me."

Victor did not speak, waiting for what followed. If he truly wanted to do that, he would not have come to speak with him personally.

"Do you know what the Eternal Fire is? It is the flame that never dies, the symbol of survival, the path through the darkness, and the promise of a beautiful future. If people knew there might be a doppler in their midst, they would be terrified, fearful, and at a loss. Pointless probing would cause mass panic. Fortunately, in places where the Eternal Fire shines, no evil spirits dare approach, and with the protection of the 'Eternal Altars' everywhere in the city, no monster would dare intrude upon the Holy City of Novigrad. So... there is no doppler. The culprit of today’s incident was a mad 'Butcher of Novigrad,' and he was killed on the spot, his body purified in the Eternal Fire. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I understand." Stability, harmony—the youth could not be clearer.

"Good. You seem like a smart man who knows what should be done, what should not be done, what should be said, and what cannot be said. I will not punish you for your lack of skill in letting the doppler replicate and cause this tragedy, but you must know that your face is not suitable to be seen in Novigrad for a long time. So—get out of my city! Go anywhere you like, just get out of my city."

Victor knew that since the verdict had been pronounced, it would not change. It was one of the most likely outcomes he had anticipated. Furthermore, this was a fairly good ending; those with influence would naturally know the truth, and as for the commoners' poor perception, they had no connection to the truth anyway. Besides, the one who killed was the "Butcher of Novigrad," so what did that have to do with Victor? Perhaps the Temple Guard would even give the doppler a random name, like "Jack."

Accepting reality with a nod, the witcher apprentice said, "But Excellency, I have some assets here and some matters that need to be handled. Could you grant me a few days?"

Somewhat surprised by Victor's calm, Chappelle had not expected the youth to accept the verdict so easily; he had assumed the boy might shout or scream about how he was being treated unfairly when he had actually been the one to eliminate the monster.

"Ten days. I will give you ten days. But you must cover your face when you go out; you cannot cause panic among the city's residents."

Victor bowed. "As you wish."

Chappelle nodded with satisfaction and paused before leaving the room. "Tell me, witcher, do mad dopplers appear often?"

Victor could guess the true meaning behind the High Protector's question and the answer he wanted to hear.

"Generally, witchers do not hunt dopplers. They are naturally gentle and kind. I do not know what caused him to go mad, but I believe this was an isolated incident. If I am not under contract, I have always remained silent regarding the existence of dopplers. Even if I notice one right in front of me, I remain silent."

As he spoke, Victor looked at Chappelle, and the High Protector looked back at the youth—turbid yellow eyes staring into clear, azure pupils.

After a long time, "Jean," Chappelle said. "The Butcher of Novigrad, who looked very much like you—the investigation results show his name is Jean, and he lived in the Far Corner district at..."

Chappelle recited an address in a flat tone, then opened the door and left.

...

At night, the heavy rain had stopped, though a light drizzle remained. After Victor changed into his freshly maintained gear, Caleb Menge personally escorted him out of the garrison.

"The verdict is a pity. I don't think there was any need for concealment, but perhaps His Excellency Chappelle had other considerations."

"No, I understand his decision. It was already quite magnanimous."

Menge handed him a large pouch full of crowns. "Remember not to go to the market again. Sylvester Amello never hired you for anything."

Victor accepted the purse with a smile, offering no objection.

Then Menge grinned: "Heh! It seems you have quite a few friends; they’ve all come to welcome you."

Turning around, Victor saw Angoulême smiling at him from under the eaves of a nearby tavern. Beside her were a few others: Harbin, who was sitting and drinking tea; Babu, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed; and Bosslaire, who was wiping his sword with a cloth.

Ebony Tai was not there, which signaled the attitude of "Cleaver the Butcher."

Bidding farewell to the Temple Guard, Victor walked under the eaves and brushed off the raindrops. "It's fine, everything is okay. It’s just that because my face is too frightening, I will be leaving Novigrad for a while."

He squeezed Angoulême’s arm to calm the tension of his companions, then looked at the other three. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you all waiting for me here?"

Perhaps because he was the most familiar with Victor, they had agreed for Bosslaire to speak for them. He said concisely, "Regarding what happened today, Mr. Leuvaarden and Mr. Beran both wish to speak with you. Mr. Alphonse asked me to accompany you to see him."

Victor blinked. So, they were all here to invite him...

The youth did not want to see any of them right now. The bathhouse owner was one thing—though dangerous, the doppler had ultimately been stopped before the "Hierarch Square," so, in a way, he still owed him a favor. But the others who had died had lived mostly in the Glory Lane area, residents under the Beggar King’s domain. While he wouldn't necessarily face their wrath, he could imagine they wouldn't give him any pleasant looks.

"So, have you decided where we go first?" Victor asked.