System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 220
“When Kael and I entered the city, we happened to see a luxurious carriage. On it was set a black shield crest inlaid with a silver iris ... the symbol of the Vizima royal house.” Orin stroked the Viper School steel sword with a look of infatuation, recalling the scene. “Knights of the White Rose were keeping order around the carriage. There had to be someone important inside.”
“If I am not mistaken, the important figure you saw was Foltest...” Roy mused. “The King of Vizima returned not long ago after traveling incognito for a time.” Princess Adda had let slip as much.
“Foltest?” Orin cried out with exaggerated shock. “There were Sorcerers traveling alongside the carriage too. I would wager the King of Temeria is about to make a series of big moves.”
“Foltest brought Sorcerers back?” The two Witchers tensed at once. The king had clearly learned of the death of his former Royal Advisor Azar Javed, hence the new replacements.
But less than a month had passed, and the timing felt rushed.
Orin went on, dropping more startling claims. “Not one Sorcerer, three. The vibration of the medallion told me so. Two women and one man, mixed into the caravan. One of them I recognized, we had a delightful encounter once at Aretuza, goes by the name Keira Metz. You remember her?” Orin said with no small regret. “Small in stature, but brimming with charm.”
“The other lady was just as enchanting. Chestnut hair, thick and loose, sweet face, and a body that could set a man on fire.” Orin’s eyes shone as both hands traced a full curve in the air, from top to bottom like a rising moon.
Kael turned his face away. “Enough, you bastard. Wipe the drool from your mouth. Do not disgrace the Viper School.”
“What, a man cannot speak of women? Or is it you, something wrong with that part of you?”
Roy listened quietly as the brothers bickered. His gaze shifted as he drained the last drop from his glass. Then he suddenly pushed away from the high stool.
“You lot carry on. I have something private to attend to...”
“Roy, learn to respect your elders.” Orin’s face darkened. He raised his cup to the Witcher’s lips. “You are going nowhere tonight. You drink with us until you drop.”
“Bullying my apprentice?” A corded arm slid in from the side and hooked around Roy’s neck, dragging his head against a broad chest. Letho stepped in and pulled him free.
“Try your luck against me instead. Loser pays for the drinks.” As he spoke, the bald Witcher jerked his chin at Roy, telling him to go.
Roy slipped quietly toward the tavern door. Behind him, Orin’s loud declaration still rang out, “I have long had enough of your airs. Tonight, I, Orin, will show you who is truly the boss.”
...
Roy left the Night Queen’s house in haste. The cold air of Vizima’s streets washed away the haze of drink, clearing his head.
Foltest’s return to Vizima, bringing three Royal Advisors in one stroke, gave him one impression, the king was moving against the Lady of the Lake, Viviane.
The last failure had not discouraged him.
Under cover of night, the Witcher made for the shores of Lake Vizima to warn her. But the Lady of the Lake did not answer Aerondight’s call, and the palace at the lake’s heart was nowhere to be seen.
“Gone into seclusion again?”
Roy could only turn back in frustration. He paced his room several times, thinking he would have to contact Princess Adda tomorrow and learn what was truly happening.
As his gaze drifted, he noticed the furnishings of the room.
This had once been Coral’s chamber. Near the dressing table were still some of the Sorceress’s personal magical items, among them a crystal-set spyglass.
“I have not spoken to Coral for some time. The materials from Azar’s laboratory have yet to reach her.”
Roy recalled the process, ran a hand lightly across the lens. When it began to grow warm and ten points of Mana drained away, without any further motion, a brilliant white light flared.
Then, in a most uncanny fashion, the spyglass cast a luminous screen in midair like a projector.
The scene within the light was clear. A thin veil of mist brushed across the surface, accompanied by the soft sound of water being stirred. Then a smooth arm came into view, wheat-colored and healthy, resting on the edge of a wooden bath.
“Someone is bathing?” Roy’s eyes widened. A strange thrill of trespass stirred in him, but he turned his head away.
A moment later, a voice rang out in sharp rebuke. The light dimmed into darkness.
Water splashed, cloth rustled, damp footsteps followed one after another. When the screen flared to life again, a face appeared.
Flame-red hair, blue eyes like a clear spring, lips full and moist like flower petals. Fresh from the bath, her skin glowed with a soft flush.
“Roy?” She covered her mouth in surprise, then broke into a bright smile, dimples appearing.
“Er ... Coral...” The Witcher felt a flicker of embarrassment. To be caught like this, any misunderstanding would be troublesome.
“I swear ... I did not know you were bathing. I saw nothing.”
“It would not matter if you had.” The Sorceress spoke softly, straightening and lifting a hand to tie up her loose hair. The white towel wrapped around her body brushed the surface of the lens, pressing close, the weight and movement unmistakable.
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