System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 229
Foltest Castle.
In the lavish dining hall, magical chandeliers cast down a soft yellow glow.
The king sat at the head of the long nanmu dining table, slowly enjoying his breakfast. Feket of Cidaris, a newly appointed Royal Advisor, was respectfully delivering his report.
“Your Majesty, the results of the lockdown in the Temple Quarter these past few days have been remarkable. Every heretic near the square has been swept away. The people of Vizima, too, have returned from their straying and gone back into the embrace of Lebioda, Melitele, and the Eternal Fire. By my reckoning, after this blow, even if the Lady of the Lake wishes to rebuild her following, she will never amount to much again.”
Foltest chewed through the last few bites of roasted chicken, crisp outside and tender within, then wiped the corner of his mouth with a silk handkerchief embroidered with irises. “Sorcerer Feket, you have worked hard of late. But this is not enough.”
He pushed back his chair and began pacing around the table. “What did I tell you all at the start?” His imposing gaze fixed on the sorcerer. “I will repeat it now. Vizima is my ground, and even Melitele had better behave herself here. As for that Lady of the Lake, with her lies and delusions, I know very well that she killed my order’s commander and my former adviser. She must pay for that.”
Foltest suddenly seized a table knife and drove it viciously into the center of a roast chicken.
“I have trusted sorcerers and made Temeria the kingdom where magic is most widespread in all the North. Over the years, I have paid the Brotherhood of Sorcerers enough to buy a kingdom outright. I think that entitles me to command you...” Foltest’s eyes turned cold. “Bring me her corpse.”
Feket felt his heart shiver. He lowered his head. “Your Majesty, calm yourself ... I am sorry ... we cannot do what you ask.”
“Give me a reason.”
With lowered brows and submissive manner, Feket said earnestly, “These past days, Adviser Triss Merigold and I have searched Lake Vizima every day, yet we have never found any unusual activity. Most likely, that thing is no longer in the lake ... We suspect she received word in advance from her cultists and fled elsewhere to hide.”
Feket spoke words half true and half false. The Brotherhood of Sorcerers had not dealt much with legendary beings such as the Lady of the Lake, but they understood enough to know that such creatures belonged to an ancient race. Kill one of them, and one made blood enemies of all the lake-dwelling elves.
The sorcerers had no intention of acting rashly.
The king gave a heavy snort through his nose, fell silent for a long while, and then a trace of regret showed on his face. “Quick enough at running, I’ll give her that.”
“But I assure you, King Foltest, so long as we remain in Vizima, that thing will never dare set foot here again.”
Foltest’s oppressive gaze swept over the sorcerer again from head to toe, until the latter was slick with cold sweat. Only then did the king change the subject.
“How is Adda?”
Feket let out a quiet breath of relief. “There is no sign of magic about Her Highness, which suggests she has not had further contact with Church affairs of late. But she did once establish a deep bond with the Lady of the Lake...” Feket suggested carefully, “If you simply allow that to stand, might there not be some hidden danger?”
“If I keep pressing her, she won’t even acknowledge me as her own father.” Foltest gave a helpless sigh. “For now, do not press her too hard.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.”
“There is another important matter...” The king paused, some hesitation on his face. “The medicine I mentioned last time, is it ready?”
Feket’s expression shifted in understanding. There had always been plenty of rumors about Foltest’s disorderly private life. Like most kings, he could not break himself of his taste for women, and many of his amorous stories were widely told among the common folk, such as the matter of his own ... and the birth of Princess Adda.
And such as the many lovers he kept outside the palace, with a particular taste for the wives of men in his own service.
Now there was one more to add. Not long ago, one of those lovers had borne him a child.
“Your Majesty, allow me to confirm, was it a boy or a girl?”
“A girl.” The disappointment in Foltest’s voice could not be concealed. He even suspected that the lack of Sorcerer Azar’s secret medicine was exactly why his son had turned into a daughter.
“In that case, Your Majesty...” Feket said, “I can assure you that the potion blended by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers will make the little princess healthier, lovelier, and livelier.”
...
In a house in the Trade Quarter.
“Abigail, a priest of the God of Ill Omen?” Adda pointed the barbed leather whip in her hand toward the trembling girl in the corner, while the other hand idly wound a mass of thick hair around her shoulder. “I have read the relevant materials in the royal library. Priests of the God of Ill Omen are very skilled in curses.”
Adda’s fine brows were drawn tightly together, and without realizing it she touched the amulet at her throat. Geralt of Rivia had given it to her to lift the Ekhidna curse and keep it from returning.
“To think such an evil organization was hidden right under my nose. How did you find it?”
“It was chance, really.” Roy recounted how they had traced the hidden chamber in the sewers through the Fleder corpses. Adda’s eyes lit up as she listened. “I was just worrying over the lack of a prayer chamber, and now someone delivers a ready-made secret stronghold to my door. Truly, the Lady of the Lake watches over us.”
“You ... what exactly do you want to do?” Abigail curled herself into a tight ball. Even though she had no magic, white dimeritium shackles had still been locked around her pale wrists and ankles.
Her plain little face was full of panic, like some harmless white rabbit.
Adda smiled at the girl gently. “What we want depends on your attitude. Let us begin with introductions, Abigail, priest of the God of Ill Omen. How old are you? And where are your parents, your kin, your friends?”
“I...” Abigail was watched by three Witchers and one dazzling princess. She stammered for a long time before finally speaking in fragments. “I turned fifteen last month ... I already told them, I’m an orphan. I have no friends, no family, only fellow believers. My mentor, the previous priest of the Vizima Church, adopted me...” A trace of sorrow rose in Abigail’s bright eyes. “But my mentor died two years ago.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.