Chapter 161: The Truth is Singular
The torches fixed to the walls cast a comforting warmth and light, illuminating the smile on Lynn's face.
"If, as you suggest, Count Raymond were the mastermind, then the moment we, having overcome so much difficulty, walked through Beauclair's city gates with the Holy Grail, the guards stationed there should have immediately alerted him."
"In that scenario, when we arrived at the palace, we would have been met by fully armed guards, arrows, and spears."
"Even if he didn't do that, at the very least, he would have politely asked us to leave Toussaint as soon as possible, and certainly not allowed us anywhere near the Duchess's sickroom."
"But none of what I just described happened, which proves that Count Raymond could not have been the one who poisoned the Duchess."
Lynn's explanation was met with a mix of surprise and admiration from Fringilla.
"Are you truly a witcher? Aren't your kind supposed to be completely ignorant of politics?"
"Have you met many witchers? Aren't there hardly any left in the south?"
The sorceress shrugged. "The witcher I met before wasn't as eloquent as you."
Lynn looked into her eyes and asked, "Since you brought it up, madam, shouldn't you tell me the rest of what you didn't about that Viper School witcher?"
Fringilla knew he would eventually ask. So she slowly began. "I will tell you, witcher... I mentioned before that the Viper School witcher didn't introduce himself, and I didn't lie about that. As for how I knew he was from the Viper School, I recognized it from the witcher medallion he wore constantly."
"He was different from you; he was taller, stronger, fiercer, and taciturn... I almost forgot to mention, he was bald."
"With all due respect, he looked more like he belonged to your profession, while you, my friend... if you didn't wear that conspicuous witcher medallion and carry those two swords on your back, many would mistake you for a noble knight of high birth and pure lineage."
Upon hearing Fringilla's description, Lynn immediately understood who that Viper School witcher was. Operating in the South, a member of the Viper School, coupled with such distinct physical traits... who else could it be but the infamous King Killer?
Of course, at this point, he wasn't yet a regicide. He was just an ordinary witcher exchanging drowners' heads for florins.
Seeing Lynn fall silent, Fringilla said, "You must be curious about where he went after leaving the palace, aren't you?"
Lynn asked, confused, "Madam, didn't you say you never saw him again?"
"Exactly, that's what I said, but 'I never saw him again' does not equal 'I don't know where he went'."
Alright, the inequality holds.
"My subordinates told me that after leaving the palace, he spent half an hour in the market square. Then he took down a contract from the notice board and went to the mansion of the noble who posted it. That's all the information I have; I've told you everything, with no omissions."
Lynn felt that she wasn't holding anything back this time. Still, he asked, "What was the name of the noble who posted the contract? And what was the contract for?"
Fringilla brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "A very ordinary monster hunt contract, nothing unusual. The noblewoman needed a witcher or a mercenary team to bring back the elven master blacksmith, Thanesel, who had disappeared into the underground sewers."
"As for the noblewoman's name, she is Orianna."
The walls of the treasure chamber were adorned with priceless wool tapestries, embroidered with intricate and opulent patterns. The floor was covered with thick Persian rugs, muffling footsteps into soft thuds. The entire chamber was filled with all sorts of rare treasures, from valuable oil paintings and sculptures to jewel-encrusted gold and silver vessels, to rare animal specimens, and gleaming weapons and armor. Each piece was a priceless artifact.
Fringilla stood at the entrance of the treasure chamber, not going inside. As a distant relative of Duchess Anna Henrietta's granddaughter, she had access to the chamber even before the Duchess fell into a coma. She had not only seen but also touched the items inside; they no longer held any novelty for her. Besides, while she hadn't interacted with many witchers, she had a general understanding of their methods. They were much like private detectives or hunters, investigating and making judgments based on clues at the scene. However, the enhanced senses mutations granted to witchers allowed them to discern traces more easily and gain more valuable information. Therefore, to avoid hindering the witcher, she felt it best not to enter.
Lynn walked past each collection piece, meticulously examining every corner. After a while, he stopped in front of three unusually shaped elven statues. These elven statues were incredibly lifelike, as if crafted by the most skilled masters. Moreover, they didn't feel carved but rather as if they had been hit by a petrification spell.
Wait, petrification spell? A flash of insight suddenly crossed his mind.
"Madam Fringilla, could I trouble you to help prepare some items?"
Fringilla glanced at Lynn. He expected her to ask why he needed them. But the witcher was wrong. The sorceress asked nothing. She simply called the guards outside.
Before long, the witcher's requested items were ready: six torches, a piece of elven bread, a bottle of elven wine, an elven longknife, and an elven shield.
"And now, witcher, is it time to dance?" Fringilla let out a string of bell-like laughter.
"Let's finish these things first. For now, you may leave." He told the guards.
They bowed deeply to him and Fringilla before exiting the treasure chamber.
"Madam, now please put on the signet ring symbolizing the ducal family of Toussaint and sit in this ornate chair."
The sorceress found this intriguing. So she cooperatively sat down. "What next?"
"Just sit still. I'll handle the rest alone."
Lynn closed his eyes, recalling the plot details he knew.
"The Elven King Thyssen of Tir ná Lia invites Toussaint's first Duke, Ludovic the Lancemaster, into his palace, onto his throne..."
"The light from the surrounding torches was dazzling."
He recited the lines with the exaggerated, performative tone of a bard.
.....
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