Once he had eaten and drunk his fill, Witt called over the tavern keeper.
"Don't talk nonsense! I... there aren't any succubi here!" the keeper shouted angrily, an odd look on his face.
Selkirk gave a faintly mocking look and said, "Witt, don't bother asking. He won't talk. I already offered him three hundred crowns, and he still wouldn't say another word. These Kaedweni are terrified of some vague, imaginary curse!"
"Really?" Witt glanced at Selkirk, then turned his gaze back to the keeper. "Then that means he really does know something. Let me speak to him alone. Maybe there are too many of you, and he's a little shy."
Under Selkirk's skeptical gaze, Witt "amicably" pulled the keeper around to face away from them.
"What are you do-" the tavern keeper cried out, struggling.
The next instant, during that brief moment when the others' view was blocked, Witt manipulated chaos magic with his left hand and cast the Axii Sign.
Under Witt's deliberate control, the psychic shock converted from water elemental power caused a small tremor in the tavern keeper's mind, making his consciousness begin to grow hazy.
"-ing..." His eyes grew unfocused, as though he were drunk.
"Tell me, how did you meet that succubus?" Witt pulled the keeper back around.
Selkirk's expression began to turn impatient. Feeling that Witt had deceived him, he said, "I told you, no matter how many times you ask, he won't..."
"One night a few months ago, Filarey came to the door herself," the keeper said quietly.
"You didn't ask where she came from?"
Surprised by what he was seeing, Selkirk shut his mouth.
"I... I..." The keeper's expression began to twist, as though the question touched on some secret. But Witt knew this was likely the result of the Sign clashing with the charm magic the succubus had left behind, so he quietly exerted more power with his left hand, hidden behind his back.
After a brief struggle, the keeper's expression gradually calmed again, and he continued, "Every morning, I thought about asking that question, but whenever I saw Filarey, I forgot to ask..."
"Did she only appear at the tavern at night?" Witt had found the key to the problem.
"That's right. Around dusk, Filarey would appear at the back door and receive visitors in a guest room upstairs."
"Upstairs? Is the room still the way it was before she disappeared?" Witt glanced at the stairs leading up in the corner. The foot of the stairs faced the backyard, making it easy for her to enter through the back door and head straight upstairs.
"Ever since we heard a few days ago that Filarey was a succubus, nobody's dared go upstairs. I haven't dared either." Witt nodded. It seemed their fear of curses had helped him this time.
"When did she stop coming?"
"About four or five days ago, when the rumors that Filarey was a succubus began. She hasn't come since."
"All right, thank you." With his questions answered, Witt settled the keeper against the wall.
"How could such a beautiful woman be a monster?" the keeper murmured, sitting on the floor. He had yet to wake from his daze.
Witt caught a faint smell of sulfur on the keeper as well. It seemed the succubus hadn't spared this fellow either, harvesting vital essence from him.
Nobody here has seen the succubus for four or five days, yet when Hector returned this morning, the sulfur smell on him was incredibly strong. Oh, Hector, Hector. There's a reason they say no good men come out of Ban Ard, Witt mused.
"Come on, let's take a look upstairs. Just you." Witt called Selkirk along. After all, the man had paid, so he ought to let him feel a little involved.
"What about him?" Selkirk pointed at the hypnotized tavern keeper.
"Don't worry. He'll be fine in a little while. I was careful with the strength." With that, Witt headed upstairs.
Is this magic? Selkirk wondered, hurrying after him.
Unlike the composed Witt, Selkirk followed behind the witcher in trepidation. Even the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet made his heart pound.
"You don't need to be afraid. According to research by scholars at Oxenfurt, none of the succubi discovered so far have shown any signs of carrying known curses."
"What about unknown ones?"
Witt answered Selkirk with silence.
Now Selkirk really was getting flustered. Even with his men right downstairs, the pitch-black upper floor of the tavern put him under immense mental strain.
This doesn't seem like what the books described. Where's the courtyard fragrant with roses? Selkirk thought.
Witt opened the door at the far end of the upper floor. As he stepped inside, a pungent sulfur smell wafted out, so strong that even an ordinary man like Selkirk found it deeply unpleasant.
"Ugh! What is that smell?"
"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. This is their 'perfume.' If you mate with them, you'll give off this smell too. It's also one of the key signs used to identify the presence of demonic creatures such as succubi."
Moonlight shone through the window, revealing the room's furnishings.
An ordinary wooden bed stood in the corner, a mirror sat on the dressing table, and some clothes lay jumbled in the wardrobe. Apart from the dried flowers scattered all over the floor, everything looked no different from an ordinary woman's bedchamber.
"There can't be any clues here, can there?" Selkirk rummaged around, finding only everyday things.
Witt, meanwhile, picked up a dried red flower from the floor and examined it closely, seemingly having discovered something.
"What's strange about this flower?"
Selkirk picked one up to examine it too. With its large red petals and yellow center, the flower looked no different to him from a wildflower by the roadside.
"This is a beggartick flower. It usually grows in damp caves..." Witt said slowly.
"So what?" Selkirk brought the flower to his nose, wanting to smell whatever scent remained on the dried bloom.
"...It usually has a mild hallucinogenic effect, which helps succubi cast their charm magic more effectively."
At that, Selkirk abruptly dropped the flower and glared at Witt. "Why didn't you say so sooner!"
"You looked as though you were smelling a succubus's scent. I couldn't bear to interrupt."
"You!" Selkirk's face flushed red. He pointed at Witt but couldn't get another word out.
"Let's go. Time to find Filarey." Witt dropped the flower in his hand and turned to leave.
"You found a clue? I didn't find anything!" Selkirk hurried after Witt as he headed downstairs.
"Didn't I tell you?"
"What? When did you tell me?"
Witt repeated his earlier words. "Beggartick flowers usually grow in damp caves." With that, he immediately prepared to set off in search of nearby caves.
"Witt, where are you going?" Seeing Witt walk out of the tavern without pausing, Selkirk hastily called out.
"Didn't you want me to take you to find the succubus? Come on." Witt smiled.
"We're going now?" Selkirk looked out at the still night beyond the tavern.
The early spring wind blew in through the window, carrying a slight chill.
"Yes. They aren't afraid of the cold like humans are." As he spoke, Witt took the crowns Selkirk had given him out of his coat and held them out. "You'd be better off finishing this trading trip properly, then going back to Aedirn and marrying an ordinary woman. At least that way, you wouldn't have to crawl out of bed in winter and go looking for your bride in a damp cave, right?"
"You don't need to test me. I'm going to see Filarey today, no matter what." In Selkirk's heart, that beautiful, rose-scented dream had yet to shatter completely.
With that, he called over a few of his caravan men and followed Witt into the boundless night.