Chapter 233: Reward
A horse carriage came out of Old Vizima and made its way toward the Royal Palace in the east. “So, Adda, tell me what happened.” Roy’s cheeks were puffed up like a hamster’s. He was wolfing down the fresh vegetables, beef, bread, and goat’s milk. Staying in the coffin for three days starved him to hell. He felt like he could eat an elephant. “Do you remember why the curse reappeared?”
Adda was sitting across from him. It was the back of the carriage. The princess was a lot more civilized than Roy was at eating. She tore the bread into strips and stuffed it into her mouth. It was an elegant way to eat, just like how a noble would. She had changed into a clean black dress with lace sewn to the hem. No longer was she naked. Her black fascinator covered her unkempt hair, and she was also wearing the witcher’s oversized cloak. The princess was a lot more gaunt than she was a week ago.
Roy saw that for himself. Her fit, beautiful waist had shriveled up a little.
Adda stared at the witcher, but she was spacing out. The princess tightened the cloak around her. The cold air was getting to her. “I remember taking off the pendant and drinking the potion Abigail gave me. Then I blacked out. When I woke up again, I was already in the coffin.”
“What kind of potion?” the witcher asked.
“A magical one. It could break my curse.” Adda was trying to remember what happened before she lost consciousness. “I asked Abigail about it, and the one who cursed my mother and I twenty years ago was Ostrit. He was a believer of the Omen God. That bastard frequented the underground meeting place before he died. Abigail told me he got that curse from the high priest of the time. That’s how I was roped into this mess. Abigail could help me with it. She’s the priestess of the Omen God after all.”
Roy stared down at the ground. I knew it.
Adda stopped for a moment and chuckled. “I can still remember the recipe for the potion. It included three drops of wolf’s blood, three drops of bile from a woman who was buried recently, and the blood of my father. Those were the key ingredients for her so-called cursebreaker.”
“Your Highness!” Roy rolled his eyes. “You trusted her too much! Blood can be a catalyst for curses. She could have cursed your father with his blood! He’s your own father and the king of Temeria!”
“Oh, but it won’t be easy to curse a king,” Adda said. “Foltest has countless layers of magical protection on him. Most people can’t see it though. Curses are ineffective against him. There’s only one way to threaten him…” Adda stared at Roy. “Assassination. And it can only be done by witchers.”
Roy spewed his food out.
“What’s wrong, Roy?”
“Nothing. Choked on myself. Gotta eat slower.” Roy wiped the milk and sweat off his face. “You jest, Your Highness. I’d never be an assassin. None of us from the Viper School would.”
“It’s just an example.” Adda wondered why Roy was overreacting to that.
“Let’s get back on track.” Roy burped. “You told me all I needed to know. Abigail’s potion reawakened the curse within you. She might have never intended this, but reactivating your curse gave the consultants the perfect chance to lift the curse once and for all. You won’t turn into a striga anymore after this.”
Adda nodded, and she muttered, “We made a deal, and she swore to her god she would help me. Yet she broke her promise. I will hunt that bitch down. She knows the price of betrayal very well,” Adda said coldly. “I’ve found out everything about the cult in Vizima. I can destroy them whenever I want. She should be afraid of that, and yet…”
“Perhaps she never did lie,” Roy said. “She had to reawaken your curse to fully break it. That doesn’t mean she didn’t have any other plan though. She might have sabotaged the potion. We’ll find out all about it once we recapture her. But for now…” Roy pulled the curtains back and looked at the palace. It was already in their sights. “You should be coming up with an explanation for the king.”
“I don’t have to,” she said matter-of-factly. “Foltest owes me and my mother this much.” Adda’s mother was Foltest’s own sister, and her name was Adda as well. “Once we’re done talking to him, can you help me with the search for Abigail?”
“Elaborate.” Foltest sat back on his throne, though he was looking a bit upset.
“You know witchers are infamous among the people. The city folks don’t show that much enmity against us, but the ignorance plagues most villages. They spread untrue rumors about us, calling us perverts, abominations, and barbarians. They affix countless crimes on us even though we have never done anything like that. We’ve been suffering for a long time because of these accusations. You’re the king of Temeria. All you have to do is spread some posters, and that’ll be enough to quash these lies about us in your kingdom. We don’t need to be heroes, nor do we have to be popular.” Roy looked at his companions. “All we want is to live our lives free of prejudice and false accusations. That is all.”
“That is… a tall order.” Foltest felt Adda tugging on his sleeve, so he did not refuse them immediately. “I need time to think. I shall summon you again once I come to my decision.”
***
“That’s the request you wanted to have?” The witchers left the castle. “But we could have chosen the coins!” Auckes was a little confused.
“We don’t get to see the king of Temeria every day. We have to get the most out of it,” Roy explained. “We’ll have to change how people see us if we want to rebuild the school in the north, right? We can start with Vizima and Temeria.”
“Roy’s not wrong. Money, status, and land aren’t enough to rebuild the school.” Serrit looked at the sky. “We need an edge to get new people to join us. Most witchers can only get one or two apprentices their whole lives by relying on the Law of Surprise alone. That’s not enough. If we don’t change, we might not live to see the day of our school’s revival. A king is the ultimate authority of the nation. One notice is enough to change the kingdom’s perception of us. At least more people will be interested in the trade.”
“You guys are reading into this too much.” Auckes rubbed his chin. “We don’t even have the land to rebuild the fortress. Heck, we don’t even have the foundation yet, and you’re already talking about new blood? And Roy is technically an apprentice too.”
“I know. This is just my fantasy.” Roy shook his head and sighed. “Foltest will probably refuse my request. It’s way too vague, but I had to try. We’ll probably end up with nothing but money in the end.”
“That’s more than enough for me,” Auckes said.
“I’m still in charge of the money, remember?”
Auckes shut up for a moment. “Roy, you really need to learn respect. At least give us some coins for the drinks.”
“Yeah, I know. Have you scouted the sewers out? Don’t tell me you spent all your time with Miss Kiera.”
“What do you think I am, a horse? I can’t fuck someone for three days straight. Of course I went to the sewers. Abigail’s not in the chamber or the temple area. She’s gone.”
“What about the other cultists?”
Serrit shook his head. He paused for a moment and answered, “We searched the cultists’ abode according to the list given to us, but nobody’s there.”
“Hey, since Letho and Berengar are still busy, why don’t we keep searching the sewers and make some coins?”
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