New chapter is live.
Settle in, take your time, and let’s see what waits in the dark 🖤
✦
Marek felt no moral burden over selling virility tonics.
He was spreading joy and affection.
Angoulême seemed to feel no burden either.
The wild girl lacked many social graces, but loyalty she had in abundance.
That was not her fault.
It was the fault of the world that had shaped her.
Since he had decided to stay in Vergen for a while and recover, finding an agent to sell the goods became urgent.
Zoltan was easily one of the best local intermediaries.
He had not missed Lambert’s departure because he valued the witcher any less.
After drinking Lambert’s farewell round the previous night, someone had dragged him to another table, and he had drunk himself senseless.
After the Battle of Brenna against Nilfgaard, veterans like Zoltan were welcome among the people of Aedirn.
His daily life seemed to consist of either being in a tavern or walking toward one.
So when the Phantom Company came to visit, he was sleeping soundly on the floor.
***
The rise of the Phantom Company remains tangled in many mysteries.
Yet if one remembers that it was founded by the Sage of the Flame, even the strangest accounts become somewhat easier to accept.
Some scholars dispute this claim.
They believe the Company was selected and supported by the Sage rather than founded by him, because some of the Phantom Company’s actions remain controversial to this day.
To connect them without evidence, these scholars argue, is to stain the flawless image of the Sage of the Flame.
At present, most records agree that the Phantom Company’s first public activity occurred in Vergen, in Upper Aedirn, beginning with the visit of the Golden Eagle, Angoulême, to Zoltan Chivay.
This claim is also doubted by many, because in Vergen’s local tales, the Phantom Company’s grand debut involved selling virility tonics.
That tone clearly does not match the legends told elsewhere.
Excerpt from Lives of the Great Adventurers, Volume Five
Zoltan’s home was also a cave cut into the mountainside.
The dwarf with the thick beard and crest of hair was an incurable optimist, a committed altruist, and a lover of strong drink and vulgar songs.
Marek knew all that because he had known Zoltan long before Zoltan knew him.
As Geralt’s loyal friend, the dwarf had earned Marek’s approval in the memories from his former life.
When shaken awake, Zoltan showed his usual disregard for ceremony.
He did not even ask why Marek and Angoulême were there.
“Hey, lad.
You’re here.
Where’s Lambert?”
Angoulême brought him a cup of cool water.
Marek helped Zoltan up from the floor and into a chair.
“Gone already.
Angoulême and I saw him off.”
Zoltan took the water and gulped it down.
“Oh, no.
Damn it.
I overslept.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Marek said.
“Lambert knows what happened.
He said he’s sorry he can’t attend your engagement ceremony, but the next time he passes through Vergen, he’ll come drink with you.”
“Ha.
Witchers are good folk.
Never understood why you humans dislike them.”
Marek spread his hands.
He and the dwarf laughed together.
The mood was good.
Marek was preparing to exchange a few more pleasantries and then ease into business.
Angoulême cut in abruptly.
“Zoltan, this is the Phantom Company’s first operation.
We need your help.”
The interruption was so stiff that the air froze.
Marek’s words stuck halfway in his throat, and for a moment he had no idea how to rescue the conversation.
Fortunately, Zoltan burst into cheerful laughter.
“Hahaha!
The White Wolf’s hanza changed its name to the Phantom Company?”
The old dwarf truly cared about Angoulême.
He followed her train of thought with ease.
She looked proudly confident.
“Yes.
We have a new way of doing things too.
Very impressive.
Listen: the Phantom Company walks the world, aids the wronged, and cuts down the wicked.”
Zoltan laughed even harder.
“Oh, it has a ring to it.
I hear that and know at once this is a proper secret organization.”
He gave Marek a thumbs-up.
He was absolutely certain those words had not come from Angoulême’s head.
Marek, meanwhile, felt shame cutting into him one layer at a time.
The nonsense he had improvised to comfort Angoulême had already come back to strike him.
She clearly needed more education.
A secret organization’s guiding principles should not be shouted at every acquaintance.
Angoulême, of course, kept talking without restraint.
“In private, I’ll call him captain from now on.
I have a new surname too: Radan.
Isn’t it imposing?
Sounds fierce.
The captain gave me his own family name, so from now on I’m Angoulême Radan.”
Zoltan’s brows drew together.
He turned his head toward Marek.
“Even the surname?
You…”
The girl cut him off.
“Marek said the name Radan will ring through the world because of us.”
Zoltan was stopped by the longing on her face.
After a moment, he nodded.
“All right.
I understand.
Then, ahem.”
He puffed out his chest and belly, making himself solemn.
“Members of the Phantom Company, Marek and Angoulême of the Radan family, what brings you to my home?”
After a brief, concentrated humiliation, the conversation finally reached the point.
Marek wasted no time laying out what he could offer.
He set both elbows on the table, folded his hands beneath his chin, and sharpened his gaze. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
“Zoltan, I have a medicinal formula that will not lack buyers.
I need someone to help sell the product.
Can you introduce me to friends who might be interested?
Everyone can earn something.”
Zoltan’s reaction was not the ready interest Marek expected.
His face grew solemn.
His brows knitted, and his mouth pressed into a tight line as if he had met a difficult matter.
The expression was obviously wrong.
Marek immediately fell silent and considered whether he had said something mistaken or overlooked something important.
After a while, Zoltan exhaled and spoke seriously.
“I’m an experienced dwarf, so I’ll say this straight.
I can’t help with fisstech.
I don’t touch that stuff, and I advise you both to stay away from it.
A lot of young fools think it’s nothing these days, but…”
“What’s wrong with fisstech?” Angoulême jumped in at once, as if anyone who lectured her leader needed to be taught manners.
Marek understood the misunderstanding and saw the conversation about to grow worse.
“Angoulême, be quiet.
Zoltan, you misunderstood.
It is not fisstech.
Nothing like that.”
He explained in the fewest possible words.
Letting the girl continue talking nonsense would only deepen the misunderstanding.
At his words, Angoulême and Zoltan both stared at him in surprise, mouths slightly open, as if he had said something incredible.
Marek breathed in.
“It’s a virility tonic.
More precisely, a virility draught.
A secret weapon for men who need help remembering their courage below the belt.”
“Oh.”
Realizing she had said something foolish, Angoulême sank back into her chair.
“Ah.
Sorry.” Zoltan had no way to avoid the mistake, so he apologized openly.
He still tried to explain.
“Virility tonics sell well, but they’re hard to make and the effect is unstable.
You said it so casually and looked like some little schemer, so I misunderstood.”
At that point, there was little left to discuss.
Some things were better seen than explained.
Some products made customers after one use.
Marek took six vials from the Bottomless Herb Satchel and pushed them into Zoltan’s hands.
“Trust me.
Let your friends who need them try.
They’ll tell you to call me Master Radan.”
✦
✦
✦
Want to keep going?
I hope this chapter gave you another reason to stay with the story.
There’s still plenty ahead, and things are only starting to unfold.