The frost atronach and Gawain were searching the corner carefully for the sorceress. At the same time, Rience had conjured a screen of light. A short-haired, burly man in a knight's attire stood within the screen. Behind him were rows of bookshelves and a vat filled with water. Roy could vaguely see an endless beach outside the window behind the man.
Vilgefortz looked at his subordinate, and he tensed up a little. Surprised, he said, "What happened, Rience?"
A man was holding a blade seemingly made out of bones to Rience's throat. Rience's face was contorted in pain, guilt and frustration filling his eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated, and with a weak voice, he said, "I-I apologize, Master Vilgefortz. Th-The brat—"
"One more unnecessary word and my hands might just… slip." The man stuck his head out. He had short black hair and eyes of golden and silver hue. He seemed conflicted. The man warned Rience, "You'd better make peace with the gods when that happens."
Rience froze and stopped talking.
"Hello, Vilgefortz. Master sorcerer, member of the brotherhood, and beloved figure of the Continent's rulers. Your reputation precedes you."
Roy spaced out for a moment. After so many ordeals, he finally met Vilgefortz. The sorcerer who easily defeated Geralt and burned a higher vampire to cinders.
'Vilgefortz.
Age: 68 years old
Gender: Male
Status: Sorcerer, Druid, Alchemist, Member of the Sorcerer Brotherhood.
HP: 320
Mana: ?
Strength: 32
Constitution: 32
Dexterity: 25
Perception: 20
Charisma: 16
Spirit: ?
Skills:
Source, Elementalist Level 8, Staff Mastery Level 10, Quickspell Mastery Level 10, Meditation Level 10, Teleportation Level 10, Mirror Image Level 10, Anti-Gravity Field Level 10, Chromatic Barrier Level 10, Shadow Escape Level 10, Empathic Probe Level 10, Astrology Level 5… (more than three hundred skills hidden)'
***
Roy inhaled sharply. He knew Vilgefortz was powerful, but this was beyond his imagination. The multitude of spells he knew alone vastly overpowered Roy's repertoire, and his incredible stats meant he was also as much an experienced fighter as he was a sorcerer.
In the original timeline, Geralt and Vilgefortz battled during the political shift in Thanedd a few years down the line. With his skill with the staff, Vilgefortz broke Geralt's legs, and the White Wolf's legs weren't the same since then. In the game, this translated to Geralt taking lethal fall damage if he were to jump off the height of a one-story building or more.
In a real battle, Roy would be crushed in a few exchanges. Vilgefortz was the strongest enemy he had seen to date, but he would not run away. If he failed to take Vilgefortz down, this man would stop at nothing until he destroyed the witchers and the children.
"You seem to have seen me before, but I can’t say the same about you," said Vilgefortz calmly. He stared at the young witcher, particularly the viper medallion hanging around his neck. He didn't remember ever seeing this lad before.
"Name's Roy. A nobody who got dragged into your schemes."
"I see. What a surprise." Vilgefortz smiled. There was praise and mockery in his smile. "I'm impressed, witcher. You managed to escape despite the heavy assault from Scoia'tael and Eternal Fire's guards. Not only that, you captured Rience and established contact with me. You're a top-notch escape artist if I've ever seen one. Very well, name your terms."
Vilgefortz crossed his arms nonchalantly. "What will it take for you to let him go?"
"Your rabid dogs have been running around attacking anyone they see. I wonder if you're as mad as they are. If you have even an ounce of shame left in you, you'll come over right away." Roy sneered. "Then you'll tell the people of Novigrad all about your conspiracy. And I demand you apologize to me and my brethren."
Vilgefortz smiled mirthlessly. "That is an amusing request, Roy. Despite this being our first meeting, you're already making unreasonable demands. If that insult is your way to get at me, then it is a lowly strategy indeed."
"Someone's mad." Roy smiled. "Didn't think a member of the Sorcerer Brotherhood would be so fickle. Oh, but I'm not done. We're not the only ones you owe an apology to. There's also Pavetta. And Ciri, who lost her home and family because of your scheme. No, an apology isn't enough. You will pay for your mistakes with your own life."
"Ah, Pavetta." Vilgefortz smiled again, but there was surprise in his eyes. "How did you know of her? Are you a relative of Emhyr? Or might you be the descendant of that ship's sailor?"
Memories were dragged up. It was back in the day when Emhyr was not yet emperor. He was still Duny, the husband of Pavetta and the son-in-law of Calanthe. Calanthe kept an incredibly close eye on Duny, giving him no chance to escape.
And thus, Duny contacted Vilgefortz in secret, requesting that he create a storm while he, Pavetta, and Ciri were coming back from Skellige. Pavetta, however, saw through her husband's scheme, and she left Ciri in Skellige. When the storm hit, she refused to work with Duny and lost her life in Sedna Abyss.
Duny made his return to Nilfgaard and emerged triumphant in his bid for the throne, and he became the emperor of Nilfgaard, the tyrant of the South, and the White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of His Enemies—Emhyr var Emreis. Ever since then, Emhyr has been in close contact with the sorcerer.
***
Vilgefortz knew that almost everyone on the drakkar died in the storm. Besides Emhyr and himself, no one knew the true story of that 'accident.' Even Calanthe was kept in the dark. She was oblivious to the fact that her daughter's husband and killer had become the emperor of Nilfgaard. In all his cruelty, Emhyr destroyed the kingdom of Cintra to hide this ugly past.
So how did the witcher find out? Pity I can't read his mind through the screen.
"Oh, that's not the only thing I know, Vilgefortz. Consider my offer carefully. Open a portal and come over so we can talk. Maybe I can talk some sense into you," Roy said. Rience, his hostage, was looking somber.
"Roy, is it? You might have not realized this, but your hands are shaking. You're nervous. Fearful." Vilgefortz's eyes shone like beacons. "The witchers' are infamous now. The people of Novigrad no longer think of you as heroes. Your brethren are all but dead. Submit and plead for my pity. Show your true self and release Rience. Be genuine enough, and I might find it in myself to spare you."
Vilgefortz held his fingers together and placed them before his lips. "Your resistance is futile. It will only destroy you in the end."
"You might not realize this, Vilgefortz, but there's weakness in your voice. You're too scared to show yourself." Roy pulled Rience closer to himself and held his chin up, forcing the sorcerer to look at his master. The witcher held his blade tighter. "And to think you risked your life to start a war for this piece of human scum. Even if I were to kill you right in front of him, he will not feel an ounce of sadness for you. You are nothing but his pawn. A disposable piece in his game of chess. He can always replace you with something else."
"No, please, have mercy!" Rience's arrogance was completely erased. He broke down and cried loudly, as though he was poultry trying to struggle for dear life before the butcher could kill it.
"You still choose to go against me, witcher?" Vilgefortz questioned. He narrowed his eyes, his calm attitude gone, replaced by icy fury.
Roy laughed and slit Rience's throat open. The sorcerer's windpipe was slashed, and blood spurted out like a fountain, drenching the screen in red.
Rience the spy, the sorcerer, and servant of Vilgefortz, was killed in the face of his master. He gurgled, his eyes filled with the longing for life and frustration of dying before his time. My master has yet to become the North's ruler, and I have yet to claim my reward. I cannot—
Rience's head went limp, and he fell to the ground facefirst, his breath gone.
Roy let go of the corpse and stared at Vilgefortz. "That's for the innocent lives lost to your schemes. And the lives of my brethren you ruined. This is but the beginning, Vilgefortz. You're next."
Vilgefortz harrumphed, and the screen went dark.
A gale howled within the antechamber, and a dark portal opened up behind the witcher. Noticing that, Gawain hurled a fireball at the portal, and it hit the invisible Lydia.
Lydia let out a scream and rolled into the portal, holding her sliced-off arm.
A split second before the portal could close, Roy pulled his crossbow's trigger, and a bolt hurtled into the portal. The air around the witcher rippled, and he disappeared into thin air.
***
Everything around him changed. When he blinked back into reality, Roy found himself transported to a dim, dark hall. Looming pillars held up the arched ceiling, and a spindly, spider-like chandelier hung from above. On the walls of the four sides, gorgeous oil paintings hung.
First Landing, Insignia of the Chosen, and Novigradian Union. All important historical events, where sorcerers played crucial roles in deciding the fate of humanity. So this must be Stygga, Vilgefortz's stronghold.
Roy stepped ahead and pulled Lydia out of the pool of her own blood. He placed a pair of dimeritium cuffs on her and staunched her blood loss with a makeshift bandage.
Lydia was in a sorry state. Her beautiful blue dress was drenched in the red of blood, she lost one arm, and Roy's bolt blasted her left leg to smithereens before she could get into the portal. Her leg was a mangled mess, and Roy could see the bones jutting out of it.
Her shifting mask was still as deadpan as ever, but it was glistening from the rivulets of sweat covering it. Lydia stared at the witcher in icy silence. She couldn't speak a word even if she wanted to. In a horrifying experiment, she lost her beauty, her chin, and voice. Since that nightmarish incident, Lydia concealed her true face behind a magical mask.
She was Vilgefortz's most trusted lieutenant, and Roy could see the concern and fear in her eyes. Even when her life was at stake, she was still putting her master before herself. Lydia was the only member of Vilgefortz's clique that Roy did not hate. Her only sin was that she chose the wrong side and was complicit in spreading his evil.
Sounds of footsteps slowly descended the stairs, and the air echoed with Vilgefortz's applause. "You are a very brave man, witcher," said Vilgefortz, his voice laced with magic. Roy couldn't shake the sorcerer's voice out of his head for a while.
Lydia's eyes shone with hope and love.
"Moments ago, you were insulting me, and now here you are. Alone."
Vilgefortz came off the final step, the darkness obscuring his face. He was holding a six-feet-long metal staff in his right hand, his body at ease. The sorcerer took one step ahead, and he split into four identical copies of himself. The copies surrounded the witchers, each as real as the other.
"Welcome to my castle, witcher." The mirror images stood ten yards away, staring at Roy. They spoke at the same time, their voices echoing and overlapping. The look in their eyes was not icy or deadly. Instead, it almost felt like they were looking at an old friend.
For some inexplicable reason, the sorcerer's attitude toward Roy underwent a change. There was even a hint of passion hiding deep within his eyes. "I hope you came here for a good enough reason."
"Finally we meet, Vilgefortz." Roy propped up the listless sorceress, looking around cautiously. Even with the power of Observe, Roy could not see which one was the real Vilgefortz.
Still, he had to stay calm in the face of this formidable enemy. This was different from their short meeting through the screen. Seeing Vilgefortz for himself told Roy how powerful this man was. His mana was overflowing and shone like the sun, his magical barrier made of chromatic shades. Bolts and arcs of electricity danced around him.
Roy couldn't be sure which one was the real Vilgefortz, but his temples were throbbing, his Elder Blood yelling out a warning. This castle was home to a danger far greater than Gruffyd the higher vampire.
"I have a feeling you know me and my story well." The mirror images looked at Roy curiously. "Can you tell me where we've met before?"
Roy looked around in silence. The medallion before his neck buzzed. The mana in the air rippled for a moment and quickly disappeared.
Vilgefortz was surprised. All the mind-reading spells he threw at the witcher were rendered ineffective. It was as though the spells had slammed into a wall that refused them access. He's born with anti-mind reading abilities.
Roy did not answer. Vilgefortz turned his gaze to the moaning Lydia, and he changed the subject. "Be gentle with Lydia. She's a good girl, and she deserves no torment."
Vilgefortz was gentle, but not out of love. He was only caring for a good lieutenant. This was just him being professional. The mirror images smiled. "The fact you barged into my home and didn't attack right away means there's room for negotiations. If you release Lydia and allow her to nurse her wounds, I will let Rience's death slide."
The mirror images took a collective step forward. The sorcerer was genuine. "And then we can talk. Equally and fairly, without any grudge or bad blood between us. You have a lot of questions about me, and so do I about you. A witcher possessing this many abilities is unheard of, and I do love making friends with powerful people. If we set aside our prejudice, perhaps we can strike a deal."
"Just because I'm young doesn't mean I'm gullible, Vilgefortz," Roy refused. He knew this man was a cunning old bastard. "I don't trust you, but you got one part right. Lydia's the only one in your clique who's sound of mind." Roy looked into Vilgefortz's eyes. "Schirru and Rience are fucked in the head, more or less. If I'm right, Lydia is also a painter, isn't she? Everything on these walls is made by her. I can see that she loves you deeply. She would do anything for you, even if it meant her death."
"But you've never responded to her feelings." Roy stared at the sorcerer. He was trying to use words as his weapon, attempting to break Vilgefortz's facade even a little, but the sorcerer was unfazed.
"You're the one who proposed a deal. I would like to see a gesture. Tell me, have you ever loved Lydia?"
The witcher launched his second attack, and Lydia froze. She then breathed heavily.
"Probing into another man's private matters is a peculiar hobby."
Vilgefortz's pupils contracted for a moment before he fell into silence. A gust of icy wind howled through the halls, the fire in the hearth crackling. The light of the fire projected shadows upon the faces of the chamber's occupants.
"Witcher, Lydia is a remarkable assistant. She's reliable, caring, and selfless. I trust her completely." He knew Lydia was staring at him, and he accepted that stare. "But that is all. I am no longer young enough to be swayed by love. Women are on a lower level of evolution, and that's why they're more easily swayed by their feelings."
Lydia hung her head low, the light in her eyes dim, her heart freezing over. Suddenly, she hated the witcher. Couldn't he let me at least hold on to this dream of mine? Why must he destroy my fantasy?
"I have a more important goal to reach." Vilgefortz was, to an extent, an idealist. His face was almost glowing golden when he spoke of his goal. "And I will sacrifice anything for that, even Lydia's life. Do not attempt to use her as a hostage or a chip for your goals. It will not work."
"Look at the skies above whenever you are making a decision, Roy." Vilgefortz then blurted his famous quote. "Do not mistake stars reflected in a pond for the night sky. You will find yourself in a predicament indeed."
***
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