Necrophage Oil… what could possibly be so special about a potion formula created by a witcher?
Although Belendil Rogrides had studied a bit of alchemy at Ban Ard, it was only at a very superficial level.
Agostino Austin's contemptuous attitude made Belendil half-tempted to mock him, to sneer that he was merely making excuses for the incompetence of the Crowned Silver Eagle.
Yet the name Crowned Silver Eagle itself represented a certain height—a height within the field of alchemy.
The reasoning was simple.
The Crowned Silver Eagle was a supernatural organization with close ties to the Redanian royal family. Under the constraints of the Sorcerers' Brotherhood and Novigradian Union, sorcerers were not allowed to be openly mobilized for warfare.
Given that reality, why would a king spend such an enormous price maintaining relations with the Crowned Silver Eagle?
Sorcerers were expensive.
Hiring fees were only a small part of it—the real cost lay in experimentation, knowledge, and long-term cultivation.
The resources required to train a high-ranking mage from nothing were enough to build half of a regular knightly order.
Would generations of Redanian kings really pay such a price merely because the origins of the Crowned Silver Eagle were closely tied to the royal family?
Impossible.
The Redanian royal house was willing to do so because the Crowned Silver Eagle could provide value—and was required to demonstrate value.
And when direct participation in war was forbidden, only alchemy could provide that kind of value.
Thus, The Crowned Silver Eagle's level of alchemy was extremely high. Most of its members were alchemists; it could almost be called a purely alchemical organization.
Magical fragrances, anti-aging potions, anti-toxin brews, and a whole series of highly practical concoctions held tremendous value in the Sorcerers' Brotherhood's evaluation system, and were sold to nearly every wealthy noble estate.
Agostino Austin's assessment of Necrophage Oil made even Belendil Rogrides frown slightly, lost in thought.
"We're here, Belendil. Tell me about this 'fulcrum' of yours…"
Agostino Austin opened a door directly out of a bare stone wall and walked inside.
Within was a shabby secret chamber, though clearly one that had been used.
Belendil immediately realized that during the few short days of this conclave, he was certainly not the first "guest" to enter this room.
It was very likely that the Crowned Silver Eagle had chosen this dilapidated residence precisely to secretly meet that person.
"On Thanedd Island, who could possibly warrant such caution from the Crowned Silver Eagle—more caution even than copying a witcher's potion?"
A flash of insight crossed Belendil's mind. He gave Agostino Austin a meaningful look.
"Necrophage Oil is really that advanced?"
Instead of answering the question about the fulcrum, Belendil asked with interest.
"I don't recall the Rogrides family possessing any particular talent in alchemy," Agostino Austin sneered. "You're far more gifted at selling alchemical tools. Rather than a mage family, you're more like a family of merchants."
"Duke Rogrides prefers the title 'noble,'" Belendil replied casually, grinning. "Just satisfy my curiosity, honored Lord Agostino Austin—great 'Crowned' alchemical master."
Agostino considered for a moment, then didn't refuse.
"It's hard to explain to you. Just know this—the Necrophage Oil developed by that witcher named Allen, and the Specter Oil sold exclusively to Temeria, are not made using our conventional alchemical methods."
"That's… that's…"
Agostino hesitated, as if searching for the right term.
"That's a method belonging to an entirely different system."
A different system?
Belendil Rogrides was even more confused.
He could imagine higher requirements, unique material processing, altered mana infusion—many differences—but he had never expected such an evaluation.
A different system? What did that even mean? Was Necrophage Oil not a potion at all?
"You don't understand alchemy, so it's hard to explain," Agostino said impatiently, easily reading Belendil's thoughts. His tolerance for a layman's confusion was thin.
"Could it be Vera?" Belendil didn't mind and instead proposed a possibility. "There's always been talk that both Necrophage Oil and Specter Oil were the work of the Crimson Fox—just too crude."
"The effects are still for monster hunting, but compared to Verdant Sigh, they're too coarse, insufficiently… um…"
"Refined?"
Belendil paused, settling on a word.
"Hmph."
Agostino Austin snorted coldly, as if to say an amateur is still an amateur.
"If I hadn't studied it in depth, I might have thought the same," he said seriously. "In fact, before the king ordered us to replicate it, I believed exactly that."
"But alchemical techniques don't lie."
"Lady Vera's methods are practiced and elegant. I once had the honor of observing her work—it was like a master bard playing an ancient elven melody on a yew-wood lute."
"And Necrophage Oil… most of its ingredients aren't rare at all. The technique should be crude, hardly precise."
"I'd say the difficulty shouldn't be high. But stylistically—it's more direct, more savage, yet extremely efficient. It's like a primitive randomly mixing herbs, yet the mana and materials fit together perfectly, as if he'd seen through the intrinsic relationships between mana and matter and found a shortcut."
"It's like… it's like…"
Agostino frowned deeply again, struggling for metaphor.
"Like a witcher?" Belendil interjected thoughtfully.
Agostino froze, muttering the comparison under his breath. He glanced at Belendil in surprise, then nodded.
"Yes."
"Like a witcher—clear objectives, thorough preparation, a single decisive strike…"
"No orthodox alchemist who has studied Necrophage Oil would ever mistake it—or Specter Oil—for Lady Vera's handiwork."
"I can scarcely believe that witcher was trained by Lady Vera at all. There's not the slightest trace of her style in his methods."
Belendil shrugged and joked, "There are rumors that Vera only taught him for a month."
Agostino Austin fell silent.
"You believed that?!" Belendil cried out in shock, his voice rising sharply.
Agostino glanced at him. "I have to. It's the most plausible explanation."
"To be honest, if Necrophage Oil weren't—as you put it—so 'crude,' and if it weren't the work of a witcher, it would already have caused a sensation in the Sorcerers' Brotherhood."
"In fact, the war between Aedirn and Kaedwen seems to have triggered a surge in drowners and ghouls. I'm certain that we're not the only ones researching Necrophage Oil."
"It's only a matter of time before the Brotherhood is shaken."
Belendil Rogrides stared intently into Agostino's eyes, confirming he wasn't joking.
It wasn't hard to cause a stir in the Sorcerers' Brotherhood.
Some cult emerging from nowhere, or some unlucky sorcerer without backing being exposed for human experimentation—any of that could ignite heated debate in multiple councils, sometimes dragging on for months to placate protesting secular nobles.
But an academic sensation was different. That was a serious, rigorous term.
Because it meant the one who caused it might earn the right to be named—just like "Crowned" alchemical master Agostino Austin.
Such figures were exceedingly rare in the entire field—so rare they could be counted on two hands.
Agostino Austin could not possibly be unaware of that.
"He's serious."
Seeing Agostino's steady, unflinching gaze, Belendil Rogrides felt dizzy.
This time, even Belendil fell silent.
After a long while—
"So… he's a genius?"
Belendil asked hoarsely, his voice strange even to himself.
"A genius?" Agostino replied. "Far more than that."
"He's an alchemical master from another world—drawn here by the conjunction of the spheres."
The chamber fell silent again.
"No wonder the Crimson Fox took a witcher as her apprentice," Belendil murmured, then sighed with regret, cruelty, and a hint of excitement. "What a pity…"
Agostino Austin knew exactly what he meant and responded sincerely: "It truly is a pity."
Such a heaven-sent talent—yet not a sorcerer, but a witcher, who had managed to offend both the Rogrides family and Radovid IV in one stroke.
"It truly is a pity," Agostino Austin repeated with a sigh.
If it weren't for the fact that the witcher named Allen had offended Radovid IV, he would actually have admired him—and even wanted to meet that strange witcher–alchemist.
But now…
There was probably no chance anymore, and there likely never would be.
Belendil Rogrides and Agostino Austin tacitly steered clear of further discussion about Necrophage Oil and alchemy.
Agostino Austin flicked his wand, conjuring two undecorated high-backed chairs, and nodded toward Belendil Rogrides.
After Belendil sat down, he said softly, "The witcher may have a promising future, but I have to say, in the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke, he isn't important."
"That's not what you said at the conclave," Agostino Austin replied, his tone once again tinged with sarcasm.
Belendil Rogrides shrugged. "I couldn't very well deal directly with Tissaia de Vries on Aretuza's own turf, in front of everyone."
After those words, the secret chamber fell silent for a moment. Yet Agostino Austin seemed not at all surprised by the chilling implication hidden within Belendil Rogrides' joking tone.
"Tissaia de Vries…" Agostino Austin said flatly. "Forgive my bluntness, but I don't believe the Rogrides family has any qualification to utter something so arrogant. And besides…"
"Redania may have some friction with Lady Tissaia, but everyone knows that upright lady's character. Their hatred is directed at witcher, not at sorceresses."
"Otherwise…"
"Are we supposed to blame the revered handmaiden of the goddess Melitele, or launch an even greater war against Temeria?"
"On the contrary, we respect Lady Tissaia, and we respect her integrity."
"With Hen Gedymdeith and Ortolan missing, Lady Tissaia should have seized the opportunity to claim power within the Sorcerers' Brotherhood—at most, she could have put on a show."
"But now, anyone can see that she is serious. In this expedition, Aretuza's contribution will only exceed that of Novigrad's Narses de la Roche. One misstep, and Aretuza could suffer devastating losses."
"Frankly speaking, setting aside the Rogrides family and our Crowned Silver Eagle—if it were Hen Gedymdeith and Ortolan themselves in Aretuza's position, would they be willing to pay such a price?"
"Lord Hen Gedymdeith might. Ortolan would absolutely not."
Belendil Rogrides listened quietly, a smile in his eyes, until Agostino Austin finished his long speech. Then he asked softly: "If that's the case, then I should be in Thanedd Island's water dungeon right now, not in the Crowned Silver Eagle's secret underground chamber—shouldn't I?"
Agostino Austin remained silent.
"Let's be more straightforward, Lord Austin," Belendil Rogrides said, his smile fading. "The reason I'm here is because both the Crowned Silver Eagle and the Rogrides family are dissatisfied with the status quo."
"To be honest, in the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke, Aretuza has indeed paid a tremendous price."
"I don't know whether Lady Tissaia de Vries has anything to do with the disappearance of Hen Gedymdeith, Ortolan, Ban Ard, and a whole group of high-ranking male sorcerers."
"Of course, on the surface, she certainly doesn't."
Belendil Rogrides raised a hand, stopping Agostino Austin from speaking.
"But no one can deny that in this affair, Aretuza has gained the most."
"Who knows what the only sorceress of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art is truly capable of? Even if she claimed she could destroy the world, I wouldn't doubt it."
Belendil Rogrides shrugged, then stared straight at Agostino Austin. His brown pupils seemed to burn with fierce flames.
"Of course, that isn't important. The Rogrides family doesn't care about the life or death of Hen Gedymdeith or Ortolan."
"What matters is that this is an opportunity—an opportunity to reshape the world's balance of power, my dear Lord Agostino Austin…"
Belendil Rogrides paused, then said quietly: "Since Hen Gedymdeith and Ortolan can disappear, why is it that Tissaia de Vries, Narses de la Roche, and Borhn Drummond…"
"Can't?"
..........
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