Roy couldn't take Toya along on the Witcher trial journey, then detour from Cintra to Aretuza. It wasn't realistic, and Letho wouldn't agree to bring along another burden, either.
He needed someone else's help.
And among all the important people in Edersberg, the only ones he knew were Seville Hogg, the Dwarven spirit distributor, and the headmistress of House of Cadell, who was also a member of the Revolutionary Army.
If he wanted to send Toya a thousand miles away to Aretuza and enroll her in the academy, the solution lay with these two people.
The rich district, Seville Hogg's residence, on a sunny morning.
The dwarf wine merchant was basking in the sun on a lounge chair in the courtyard. It had been nearly a month since the Witcher had "exorcised" the demon for him, and he seemed to be doing quite well. His dark circles had nearly vanished, his barrel waist had become even more "expansive," and his thick beard and hair were so glossy they looked ready to drip oil.
"Roy, it's been a while. You've been living pretty comfortably in Edersberg," Seville said. With a wave, he summoned a dwarf maid with braided whiskers and faint freckles to bring over a bottle of mead and fill both their glasses. She quickly left. "If I'm not mistaken, you've grown taller and sturdier, too. Still no handsome beard, but you've become a lot more manly... Have you been taking Dwarven spirit from Mahakam every day?"
Roy, reclining in a wicker chair beside him, took a sip of the mead. It tasted faintly sweet and went down smoothly, so he couldn't help complimenting it. "You're right, Mr. Seville. Dwarven wine is naturally far better than those other crude, watered-down imitations. How have you been? Have you still had nightmares since Hym was destroyed?"
"Thanks to you and Master Letho," Seville said with a hearty laugh, "the nightmares have mostly disappeared. I'm back to being a vigorous, strong Little Squirrel of Mahakam." He awkwardly turned over in his wicker chair, propped his furry chin on one hand, and looked over at Roy. "It's just that every now and then, late at night, I still think of my poor brother Aken, still soaking in that barrel... Then I can't eat a thing the next day."
The dwarf's hoarse, low voice faltered. He spoke with a meaningful look. "When will Aken's remains finally return to his own territory and find peace?"
"By the way, Roy, where's Master Letho today?"
"He went out on business and hasn't returned yet." Roy asked, "Mr. Seville, how about I help you take care of this problem?"
"Roy, if I heard you correctly," Seville said, stroking his thick beard, his eyes full of doubt, "you mean you'll secretly get Aken's body into the hands of the Revolutionary Army's leaders without anyone knowing?"
"That's right... Mr. Seville." Roy's eyes were bright and his voice steady; he looked completely confident. "Are you willing to entrust this job to me?"
Half an hour later, in the wine cellar.
A pale man lay half on the ground, his limbs twisted unnaturally, his eyes closed in death.
At the same time, the powerful smell of alcohol and a faint stench of decay, almost entirely masked by the wine, rushed into Roy's nose.
He couldn't help widening his eyes as he stared at the long-famous big shot, Vernon Roche, leader of the Revolutionary Army. In other words, the dwarf's dear friend Aken—the wise man who never drank, yet died because of fine wine.
The male corpse wore a simple gray linen shirt, like those worn by farmers and laborers, and black trousers. His limbs were long and slender, and his build was lean. His pointed ears, hooked nose, tapered jaw, and prominent cheekbones hinted at a trace of elven blood.
Perhaps he had suffered terribly before he died; a trace of fear and anguish still lingered on his face. His limp hands rested at his sides, as though he had tried to grasp something but couldn't hold on to anything.
No one knew how long the body had been soaked in wine. Its skin was covered in wrinkles, and ugly patches of lividity could occasionally be seen across his chest and abdomen.
The scene was strangely reminiscent of the specimens immersed in formalin back in Roy's previous life.
No, it was more direct, more eerie and horrifying.
The dwarf wine merchant's eyes held grief and a hint of nostalgia. He instinctively covered his nose. "Roy, I've taken Aken out of the barrel as you asked. What are you going to do now?"
"If you're thinking of sneaking him out tonight, I'm afraid that won't work. I hear the Revolutionary Army plans to hold a second protest march around the New Year, but two of the barons' men are still watching us like hawks outside."
"Mr. Seville, how about I perform a magic trick for you?" Roy went over to the corpse and examined its limbs. He pulled up the trouser leg and saw a strange tattoo on the right heel—a circle of thick, curled fur.
A squirrel's tail?
He frowned, pondering it, but didn't mention it to the dwarf. Instead, he reached out and touched the corpse. Vernon Roche immediately vanished without a trace.
"What?" The dwarf's mouth fell open, his jaw nearly hitting the ground. "Young Roy, how did you do that? Don't tell me that, besides being a Witcher apprentice, you're also a hidden sorcerer? Can you cast teleportation spells?"
"It's a secret... Mr. Seville, please allow me to keep it that way," Roy said earnestly.
"All right, dwarves respect their friends' secrets," Seville said apologetically. "And please accept my apology. I shouldn't have doubted you earlier. With a skill like that, the baron's lackeys won't have the faintest idea."
"Then is the reward the same as last time?"
"How about we talk about it after I've completed the job?"
"No problem," the dwarf replied cheerfully. "If you pull this off, you'll be my brother, Seville Hogg's brother. I'll never shortchange my own brother!"
For Cadell, the past few days had been a real ordeal. First, while dealing with the hateful monster that had abducted several of her children, she'd suffered a serious wound to her abdomen, which still ached now and then.
Then came more bad news from the Revolutionary Army: preparations for the second protest march were going very poorly. The baron's iron-fisted suppression had genuinely frightened off many opportunists whose Willpower and convictions weren't firm enough.
So far, they hadn't managed to gather more than fifty people. With so few, taking to the streets to protest would be more like putting on a circus act.
"Sigh..." Cadell sighed. If only everyone were as easy to deal with as that new student. Smart, courageous, and fairly capable, he hadn't backed down at all when faced with Monsters.
Too bad he was a Witcher apprentice and wouldn't be staying much longer.
At the thought, Cadell returned to her office, dispirited...
But as soon as she opened the door, a strong smell of alcohol hit her. Frowning, she followed the scent to the desk.
Then her pupils narrowed to slits, and utter horror appeared in her eyes.
A man's corpse lay beneath the desk. Its face was pale, swollen, and terribly familiar.
Cadell instantly went numb with shock.
"My great leader, my spiritual mentor, Vernon... is dead?!"
In the courtyard downstairs, Roy rubbed the Horn Tree beside him as he watched the headmistress enter the room. Before long, she came out with a letter in hand, her face full of grief and fury. He let out a long breath of relief.
"I didn't want to scare you, either. But you were the only Revolutionary Army member I knew... Sorry about that. Just consider it repayment for the meal you owed me..."
"So the headmistress of House of Cadell was a high-ranking member of the Revolutionary Army..." After hearing Roy's report, the dwarf wine merchant nodded with satisfaction. "My informants noticed something strange about that school long ago, and I suspected her, too, but I never found any solid evidence. Anyway, Roy, you handled this beautifully. The baron's lackeys didn't suspect a thing, and my dear brother Aken has finally returned to the place he missed so much."
The dwarf held out his hand to Roy and said solemnly,
"I keep my word. I once promised that whoever solved this problem would be my brother... Brothers don't need to stand on ceremony. Roy... tell me, what do you want? Money, wine, weapons? Just say the word..."
The dwarf had already realized that Roy must have had another reason for accepting the job at such a time.
"Or do you need me to help with something? If it's within my power, I'll be glad to lend you a hand."
Roy hadn't expected a job he'd been forced to set aside when he first arrived in Edersberg to come in handy now. But in truth, he hadn't had to put in much effort. It had amounted to little more than delivering a "package."
"Mr. Seville..."
"Don't, Roy. From now on, just call me by my name. Otherwise, you're looking down on me as your brother!"
"Uh... Seville," Roy corrected himself at once. He couldn't imagine calling a seventy-year-old dwarf his brother, but the man was probably just being polite.
"Do you know any sorceresses? Someone who lives near Edersberg, preferably a graduate of Aretuza Academy."
The dwarf stroked his beard and thought for a moment.
"Sorry, Roy. As far as I know, no spellcasters live near Edersberg. There's a black-haired sorceress in Fangerburg, but that's too far away."
"But why are you looking for a sorceress?" the dwarf asked. "If you trust me, tell me what's going on. Maybe there's another way to solve your problem. I'm not boasting, but I have a fair amount of influence in this city."
Roy thought it over and decided there was no harm in telling him. He explained Toya's situation at the Mill outside the city.
The dwarf's expression turned strange as he listened. He looked at Roy as though he were some rare animal. "Roy, unless I'm mistaken, you're a Witcher apprentice, and you'll become a Witcher one day. Why help an ugly country girl? You're going to all this trouble to send her to Aretuza. After years of training, she might not even remember you."
"Is it just because you pity her?"
"Seville, don't you think Witchers and sorcerers have something in common? A miserable childhood, lives forced upon them by circumstance, no chance to choose their own paths..." Roy spoke from the heart. "I think she deserves the chance to choose."
"I hope that one day, when I find myself in that kind of desperate situation, someone will give me a chance, too..."
The dwarf was slightly moved as he listened. He suddenly thought the human boy's face wasn't as handsome as a dwarf's, but he didn't mind it. He laughed heartily.
"Roy, you're a fascinating fellow. Ninety-nine out of a hundred Witchers I know wouldn't bother with something like this... But you went and got involved anyway."
"For what you just said, I'll help you. I'll send a carriage and dwarf guards to escort that child to Thanedd Island. Like you said, she deserves the chance to choose her own life! Whether she gets into Aretuza will depend on her own ability and luck."
"But it'll have to wait a few days..." The dwarf struggled to rise onto his toes and threw an arm around Roy's shoulders. "Little brother, the New Year's almost here. Don't carriage drivers deserve to enjoy the holiday?"
"I hope the Revolutionary Army can settle down for a while. Their leader's body showed up out of nowhere. Who knows if they'll cause another big stir?"
"Actually, besides the body, I left a letter for Ms. Cadell," Roy said. "It was a threatening letter written in the Sparrow Gang's voice. I don't expect Cadell to be fooled, but at least it'll distract her and stop the Revolutionary Army from blindly provoking the baron, in case someone with ulterior motives takes advantage of them."
Before you continue