Chapter 556: Ten Years of Scheming

Sunlight shone into the dim chamber of the castle, the fire in the hearth flickering and crackling, illuminating the six silhouettes standing in confrontation against each other. Four were mirror images of Vilgefortz, donned in knight attire and equipped with a steel staff. They surrounded the witcher, who stood in the center of the chamber, right beside the settee. And he was holding an injured sorceress as hostage.

"I have answered your question, Roy. Now it's time to uphold your promise," said Vilgefortz calmly. " Release Lydia. At least let her not suffer."

Roy mused over his options and didn't argue. I can act this out. I have to. I only have one chance, and I have to find out who the real Vilgefortz is, or he's going to come back with a vengeance.

Released from the shackles binding her, Lydia leaned on the settee sitting before the hearth, though the air around her reeked of sorrow. She was heartbroken by Vilgefortz's answers.

Roy took a seat near her.

"Good. I like people who hold their word." The mirror images smiled brightly, their gaze toward the witcher a little warmer. "And now it's my turn to ask questions. Then you get a turn. Fair, don't you think? So, how'd you know of the real story of Pavetta's death?"

"A Skellige sailor survived the ordeal. I ran into him, and he told me the truth," Roy said. He pretended to be thinking, as though that would fool Vilgefortz.

Vilgefortz was displeased. A mere sailor could never have guessed that Emhyr and Duny were the same person, nor could he realize that Vilgefortz was the one pulling the strings from the shadows. He's hiding a lot of secrets.

"My turn. I'm very interested in your early life." Roy looked at the mirror image on the left. Sharply, he asked, "Were you born an orphan? Or did your parents abandon you?"

If Vilgefortz was an emotionally sensitive person like Geralt, the question would hit him hard. He would either look sad or angry, but the mirror images were unfazed. They were as calm and collected as ever. This part of Vilgefortz's life was nothing but a distant past.

"You seem to have an obsession with my private life." Vilgefortz smiled. "But yes. When I was five, my parents, both of whom are Sources, abandoned me. I was left with a group of beggars in Lan Exeter's slums. Like a poor stray, I had to beg for the citizens' mercy and rummage through dumps for scraps. I had to fight scores of beggars sometimes just for a piece of moldy bread," said Vilgefortz, unashamed.

"Though the food was scarce and rotten, I managed to survive for years"

Lydia listened intently. Vilgefortz had never told her of his story.

"And that's how you answer questions, Roy. With honesty and detail. No omissions or secrets. Do not let your feelings alter how you look at your story. I expect you to follow this rule from here on out." The mirror images looked at Roy. "Similarly, I am interested in your story as well. Why did you walk the path of a witcher instead of a sorcerer? Does the mystique of magic not intrigue you? The mana you radiate is leaps and bounds higher than any witcher. That is proof of your talent." Vilgefortz took a deep breath. It was almost as if he could smell the taste of chaos energy. "If you'd attended Ban Ard, you could've been a brilliant magical apprentice. Then all you had to do was apply yourself, and you'd graduate as a full-fledged sorcerer."

Roy looked around. The mirror images were completely in sync. They even blinked at the same time. "Destiny steered me away from that path. I met a witcher first. A monster was on the verge of killing my family, and that was the only path to power I had, so I took it. I needed some form of power if I wanted to control my destiny," Roy said, his story mostly true.

Vilgefortz nodded. "You are certainly different from a lot of people. First time I've heard someone willingly take on the trials to be a witcher. You saw an opportunity and seized it instead of resting on your laurels. Had you lived life like a normal person, your dreams and passions would've been crushed by the mundane lifestyle, but that's not who you are. You have ambition, and you take action," the sorcerer praised.

"It's my turn now." Roy shrugged the compliment aside. "How did destiny set you on the path of magic, then?"

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" Vilgefortz shook his head and caressed the staff he was holding. "Three years had gone by since I was abandoned. I was dying in a squalid ditch, starving and ravenous. Then a group of druids who hailed from the Kovir circle took me in and raised me. Druids are a bunch of misfits. Tramps and bizarre people who travel the world and worship oaks. My talent was then discovered during one of their rituals, and they taught me how to meditate, fight, and use magic. They taught me how to get along with nature and society at large.

"This itinerant life continued until I was twenty years old. I had no interest in the philosophy of druids. It makes no sense. They think understanding and getting along in peace is the way of life, but if I had followed their rules, the slums of Lan Exeter would've devoured me whole. Might makes right, that's the only truth in this world," Vilgefortz declared, his voice echoing across the chamber.

There was not an ounce of gratitude in his voice. There was only arrogance. "Despite their abandoning me, my parents left with me all their magical talents, and before long, I mastered all the spells the druids had. Tired of their incessant lecturing about nature, I refused their invitation into the brotherhood, and so I left to wander life by myself."

Aside from his skills with a staff and nature magic, Vilgefortz was far detached from druids, who wanted nothing to do with fame or power. The sorcerer was never shy about making his desire for power known.

"How did you build your organization, Roy?" Vilgefortz asked. "Witchers are lone wolves. They would never build an organization of their own."

"Times have changed. The disunity of witchers was the reason they fell into decline. Eventually, everyone came to think of them as weak." Roy shook his head. "They slander and discriminate, pushing us further into the sidelines, and now, our numbers dwindled so much, we're almost extinct. Being a part of this group means I must make some changes to get along with the times. That's why I convinced my brethren to gain allies in witchers from different schools. The process has not been easy, but it has borne fruit."

Roy's eyes roved over the mirror images. "Or at least it was going well, until your schemes ruined it."

"Of course. One of the most coveted herbs of all time. Divine Beauty needs it, but dwarven affine is long extinct, from what I know."

"Then I was extremely fortunate to find one in a forest. Only one was available, however."

A momentary silence fell upon the hall. Vilgefortz was taking an even bigger interest in the witcher.

Roy took a deep breath and huddled closer to Lydia. The next question he asked was a monumental one. "I'd like to know about your relationship with Emhyr var Emreis, the emperor of Nilfgaard. Every single detail of it from how you know him until your present day relationship with him."

Vilgefortz hesitated for a long time, his eyes twinkling. Once again, the witcher brings up my relationship with Emhyr. That's supposed to be a secret. Vilgefortz did not ask how Roy came to know of that secret. He had a guess at who this witcher was.

"As mentioned, I used to be a merchant. Old habits die hard, and after I became a sorcerer, I still kept some habits from my trading days with me. Investing being one of them. Regular investments only yield coin and fame, however, and I was not satisfied with just that. And so, I turned my gaze to an ousted prince. Thirty years ago, The empire of Nilfgaard witnessed a political shift. Emhyr's father, Fergus, was ousted, and the usurper cursed Emhyr, turning him into Duny. The cursed prince traveled to Marnadal, escaping with his life. Still, he was a prince. There was a chance he could reclaim his throne. The returns for that investment alone would be astronomical. Risky too, but I like risks.

"And so, I invested in Emhyr." Vilgefortz looked proud, and he didn't hide anything from Roy. "I gave him guidance. On a rainy night in 1237, he was to save Calanthe's husband, Roegner of Ebbing. And he invoked the Law of Surprise like I told him to. The law bound him to Calanthe's unborn daughter, Pavetta. She became his Unexpected Child. The Law is unbreakable. Pavetta grew up, and she found herself attracted by Duny. They had an affair when Pavetta was in her teenage years. Eventually, Duny impregnated her."

And Pavetta's child, Ciri, becomes Geralt's Unexpected Child. What a twist of fate. Difference is, Geralt only sees Ciri as his child instead of a concubine. Duny, however, married his Unexpected Child, and in a bid to lay claim to Cintra's throne, he considered marrying Pavetta's child too. Sick bastard.

"And the rest is history. The shipwreck at Sedna Abyss, Duny's escape, his return to Nilfgaard, murdering of the usurper, reclaiming of the throne, regaining of his name, and invasion of Cintra. You know that fairly well, don't you?"

Roy nodded.

"Emhyr's successful ascension to the throne gave me incredible returns, but the reward is yet to be claimed. Not until his army has taken over most of the North, that is."

Emhyr made a promise to Vilgefortz. Once the North became Nilfgaard's land, Vilgefortz would be the highest ranking official of the province. He would be second to only Emhyr in terms of power.

Roy wasn't happy with that answer. "Honesty is the name of the game, Vilgefortz. You didn't help Emhyr just to rule over the North."

"What are you trying to say?" Vilgefortz crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your saboteur in Novigrad forced us to make a desperate attempt at survival, but I know you only did it to get your hands on Ciri."

The mirror images laughed, their grins wide.

"And why are you laughing?"

"Because you just proved my conjecture. This is a miracle." The mirror images looked at the witcher with passion. They gushed, "Yes, my assistance to Emhyr's rule and sending Rience on a search for Ciri are for something else. Power and rulership are just the bonus that comes with the job. My real goal is Ciri's Elder Blood. The blood that controls time and space of countless worlds. Power and the ultimate truth. That is what us sorcerers seek. Human greed is never ending, and I am not excluded." Vilgefortz's voice echoed across the chamber, filled with ambition.

Lydia fell in love with him all over again, her eyes filled with infatuation.

"I am tired of whatever this world has to offer. I wish to gain the Elder Blood and cross the barriers of space. I wish to witness what lies in the worlds beyond our own. The Northern Kingdoms are but specks in the infinite realms. And do you know why I tell you so much, Roy? Do you know why I am so honest with you?"

Roy took a deep breath.

"Because you are privileged." Vilgefortz looked at Roy. Lamentation and praise flickered in his eyes. It almost felt like he was seeing the ideal version of himself. "I do not believe the story of the dwarven affine. It is just an excuse. You have shown to possess the power of space. That's how you blinked in and out of existence. You also have the power of clairvoyance. That's how you saw my secrets. And you used the power of time to heal that dying doppler, didn't you? You too, possess the power of Elder Blood, Roy!"

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