The Legendary Organization Makes a Grand Entrance

Victor felt no psychological burden about selling aphrodisiacs—it was spreading joy and love. Angoulême probably felt the same. That wild girl lacked in every virtue save loyalty, but that was not her fault. It was the environment's fault. This rotten age had made her what she was.

In any case, since they had decided to recuperate in Vergen for a while, finding a sales agent was the most urgent matter. And Zoltan was unquestionably the best local intermediary.

He had not come to see Lambert off today not because they were on bad terms, but because after drinking Lambert's farewell toast yesterday, he had been dragged off to another stall and drunk unconscious.

After the Battle of Brenna, where they had fought back Nilfgaard, and Vergen's defense against Kaedwen, war heroes like him were quite popular among the people of Aedirn. On any given day, he was either in a tavern or on his way to one.

So when the Phantom Troupe came to his home looking for him, he was sprawled on the floor, sleeping soundly.

The rise of the Phantom Troupe remained shrouded in countless unsolved mysteries even today. Yet once one considered that it had been founded by the Sage of Kindling, however unbelievable it seemed became easier to accept.

Some scholars remained skeptical of this claim. They believed the Troupe had been chosen and supported by the Sage rather than founded by him, because some of the Phantom Troupe's actions remained controversial to this day, and tying them to the Sage without evidence tarnished his flawless image.

Most records held that the Phantom Troupe's earliest public activity took place in Vergen, Upper Aedirn, beginning with Golden Eagle Angoulême's visit to Zoltan Chivay.

Yet many also questioned this account, because rumors in Vergen claimed that the Phantom Troupe had appeared there to sell aphrodisiacs... That clearly did not match the lofty tone of the deeds attributed to them elsewhere.

Excerpted from—<Biographies of Medieval Knights-Errant, Volume Five>

Zoltan's home was also a cave dwelling carved into the mountainside. This punk-haired dwarf with his luxuriant beard was an incurable optimist, a steadfast altruist, and a lover of strong liquor and bawdy songs.

Victor knew all that because he had known Zoltan long ago. Even before Zoltan knew Victor, he had earned Victor's approval in the game as Geralt's loyal friend.

Shaken awake from his sleep, he fully displayed the dwarf trait of not standing on ceremony. Without even asking why Victor and Angoulême were there, he said, "Hey! Lad, you're here. Where's Lambert?"

The girl brought over a cup of cold water. Victor pulled Zoltan up from the floor and seated him in a chair. "He left ages ago. Angoulême and I came back after seeing him off."

Taking the water, he gulped it down in one go. "Oh no! Damn it! I overslept."

"Don't worry about it," Victor said. "Lambert knew what happened. He said he was sorry he couldn't attend your engagement ceremony, but next time he passes through Vergen, he'll definitely come find you for a drink."

"Ha, witchers are all decent people. I just don't know why you humans don't like them."

Victor spread his hands. "I share your confusion." Then he and the dwarf laughed together.

The mood was good. Victor had been about to exchange a few more pleasantries before gradually getting to the point.

But Angoulême suddenly cut in. "Zoltan, this is the Phantom Troupe's first operation! We need your help!"

The interruption was so abrupt that the atmosphere instantly froze. Victor was left hanging, unable to think of how to smooth things over.

Fortunately, Zoltan burst into cheerful laughter. "Hahaha! White Wolf Hansa changed its name to the Phantom Troupe?"

The old dwarf truly cared about Angoulême, easily following the twists of her thought process.

Angoulême wore an expression of complete confidence. "That's right. We also have new rules for how we operate. They're super cool, so listen up—The Phantom Troupe travels the mortal world, upholding justice and punishing evil!"

Zoltan grinned even more broadly. "Oh, and it rhymes. I could tell at once that this was some incredible secret organization." As he spoke, he gave Victor a thumbs-up. He was absolutely certain this was not something Angoulême's brain could have come up with.

Victor, meanwhile, felt as though shame were slowly cutting him to pieces... The nonsense he had casually made up to placate Angoulême had come back to bite him so quickly. Angoulême definitely needed more education. How could the creed of a secret organization be shouted everywhere?

Angoulême continued without a filter. "From now on, I'll call him Captain in private. And I have a new surname now—Corleone. Isn't it awesome? It sounds so powerful. The Captain bestowed his own surname on me, so from now on, I'm Angoulême Corleone."

At that, Zoltan suddenly frowned and turned to Victor. "Even the surname? You..."

The girl cut off what the dwarf was about to say. "Victor said the Corleone name would resound throughout the world because of us..."

Zoltan was stunned by the longing in the girl's expression. After thinking it over, he nodded. "All right, I understand. Then, ahem." The dwarf deliberately puffed out his chest and belly, assuming a solemn posture. "You two of the Phantom Troupe, Victor and Angoulême of the Corleone Family, what brings you to my home?"

Although he had endured a short yet fulfilling spell of embarrassment, now that the conversation had gotten back on track, Victor, being a realist, did not dwell on it. Instead, he got straight to the point and laid out his advantages and prospects.

He rested both elbows on the table, laced his fingers beneath his chin, and fixed Zoltan with a sharp gaze. "Zoltan, I have a medicinal formula that will never lack buyers. I'm looking for someone to sell the product on my behalf. Can you introduce me to some friends who might be interested? That way, everyone can make a profit!"

But after hearing this, the dwarf did not look as pleased as Victor had expected. Instead, his expression grew grave, his brows knotted tightly and his lips pressed shut, as though he had encountered some serious difficulty.

Something was clearly wrong with that expression. Victor immediately fell silent, wondering whether he had said something wrong or whether there was some unknown factor at play.

After a while, Zoltan let out a breath and said seriously, "I'm a well-traveled dwarf, so I'll say this: I can't help you with weed powder! I don't want to touch that stuff, and I advise you to stay away from it too. A lot of young people think it's no big deal these days, but..."

"What's wrong with weed powder?" Angoulême immediately objected upon hearing that. She jumped in and interrupted him, looking ready to teach anyone a lesson for criticizing her boss.

Realizing the situation was about to become complicated, Victor said, "Angoulême, shut up... Zoltan, you misunderstood... It's not weed powder! It's absolutely not that kind of thing!" He hurriedly clarified in the fewest words possible. If he let the girl keep talking nonsense, the misunderstanding would only deepen.

Yet when they heard Victor, both Angoulême and Zoltan wore shocked expressions, their lips slightly parted as though he had said something unbelievable.

Damn it! Birds of a feather flock together. So both of you thought I was a weed-powder dealer?

Taking a breath, Victor calmly said, "It's an aphrodisiac! More precisely, an aphrodisiac potion! An erection tonic! A secret weapon that helps men regain their virility!"

"Oh..." Realizing she had said something stupid, Angoulême dejectedly sat back down in her chair.

"Uh... sorry." Zoltan, who had also realized the misunderstanding, had no way to avoid it and could only apologize frankly. Still, he tried to explain. "Erection tonics can make good money, but they're hard to make and their effects aren't stable. You made it sound so easy, and you had that schemer's look on your face, so I misunderstood."

There was not much else to say. Some things were better seen once than heard a hundred times, and some things turned people into regular customers after one try.

Victor took six test tubes from his herb pouch and stuffed them into Zoltan's hands. "Trust me. Let your friends who need it give them a try. They'll tell you to call me 'Master Victor.'"