Chapter 365: The Three-Faced One

"It seems like you are still doing legitimate business," Geralt said to the mage beside him.

"I don't know what kind of alchemy materials the young man needs, but we have many specialties from the North!"

The mage continued to act like he didn't know Geralt. He tried several times to break free from Geralt's grip, but being a mage, he knew he couldn't handle him. Now, he was just stalling, waiting for reinforcements.

The blue wooden door led to the underground level, where there was only a small lounge for resting and a long corridor. There were many wooden doors along both sides of the hallway. Geralt's sharp sense of smell detected the strong scent of dried flowers and animal horns, indicating that the area was filled with storerooms and bedrooms.

Geralt pushed the mage down onto a sofa and leaned casually against a wine cabinet. "I want vampire ashes!"

The mage adjusted his robe. Although he was over ten years older than Geralt, he still wanted to maintain his dignity. "Young man, you've already experienced a female vampire before. We only have the living ones here, not the dead."

Geralt stared him in the eye. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Jason," the mage replied nonchalantly.

Only giving his first name and sticking to his stubbornness, Geralt knew reinforcements would arrive soon. He drew the Sea Wraith from his back and held it tightly. "Jason, we're both mages. Eight years ago, there was a vampire plague on the continent, and in the end, only two were left, both imprisoned in Tyrosh."

Jason nodded, his hands resting on his knees. If Geralt made a move, he was ready to fight back.

Geralt pressed on. "So how did the six female vampires here come to be?"

"I don't know."

Geralt's voice became colder. "I sensed vampire ashes when I arrived. Where did you send them?"

"I don't know."

Geralt's patience was wearing thin. "Who is your superior?"

"I don't know."

Though Geralt was only thirteen, his irritation grew as the mage kept denying everything. Geralt quickly walked toward him.

The mage raised both hands toward Geralt, his palms glowing with red magic. But before he could unleash his spell, a woman's scream echoed, almost as if someone were about to die.

"Ahh!" The sharp scream disrupted the mage's concentration. The magic he had gathered scattered into two bursts of flames. By the time he regained his composure, Geralt's sword was already pressed against his neck.

The mage, ears ringing in pain, touched his right ear, finding it covered in blood.

"The Sea Wraith! You're Geralt!" The mage's façade finally cracked. He knew that this impulsive young man might kill him at any moment. "No evidence, no trial—killing in our place. If you do this, you will become a criminal too! Geralt, put down your weapon, and let's talk!"

Geralt paused at his words but kept the sword at the mage's neck. "Those female vampires are the evidence! Six of them! How were they turned?"

"Lord Wright is always just. Even though you're his adopted son, that doesn't give you the right to act recklessly!" The mage glared at the dark sword, still refusing to give in.

"My accomplishments and the Sea Wraith didn't come because of my status as an adopted son!"

Geralt's voice was firm as he raised his left hand, fingers splayed, and placed it on the mage's face. White light enveloped the mage. "I ask, you answer."

"Understood." The mage lowered his hands slowly, his eyes becoming glazed.

Geralt retracted his arm. "Where did the female vampires come from?"

"My women came from all over. I only know that they all willingly transformed." The mage's head still radiated white light.

"Who turned them into vampires?" Geralt was certain that one vampire was breeding offspring.

"No vampire."

"No vampire?" Geralt slapped him across the face. "Did they just appear out of thin air?"

"Really none! We brought them to the guest room upstairs. After they came out, they were vampires. We, the mages, didn't detect any undead creatures inside at the time."

It seemed the mage was telling the truth. No biting, no breeding offspring? Geralt gritted his teeth. This skin-peeling family had clearly never done anything good.

"I'll ask again. Where did the vampire ashes you're selling come from?"

"Supplied by Lord Bolton."

"The Dreadfort in the North!" Geralt was surprised. "So, the female vampires and the vampire ashes here come from two different suppliers?"

"I'm just a small manager. I don't know much about the higher-ups. All I know is that Lord Wright brought back a female vampire from beyond the Wall. She wasn't executed at Dreadfort, but Lord Bolton bought some other ashes to give to Robb as a report."

"Damn it!" Geralt started to worry if Dreadfort was already full of vampires.

Bang! The blue wooden door outside the small hall was slammed open, and a dozen or so mages in various robes rushed in.

"Stop! Remove the magic immediately!" The leader, upon seeing the white light on the mage's head, shouted.

"He has already confessed to the crime of developing vampire offspring! There are still live witnesses here. Are you going to turn yourselves in to the Magic administration Committee, or should I take your leader to them?" Seeing so many mages enter, Geralt took a few steps back.

"The white-haired kid, I'm Bol, the one in charge here!" The man had a red-and-white striped poisonous snake wrapped around his wrist. The snake's head rested on his shoulder, staring at Geralt, baring its fangs and flicking its forked tongue.

"Bol, another fake name, a petty person hiding behind a facade!" Geralt began to observe him carefully.

With black hair, a long beard, a mage's robe woven with gold threads, holding a battle axe inscribed with runes, and the poisonous snake on his body, Bol was an affluent Skinchanger from the North.

"Do all you Southerners have such bad manners?" Seeing Geralt's eyes, Bol activated his Skinchanger ability, and his eyes slowly turned into snake-like vertical slits.

"Only me!" Outnumbered, this Skinchanger was not someone Geralt could easily deal with, so he sheathed his sword.

"Geralt of Tyrosh, heh, you dared to investigate alone without knowing the strength of your opponents. Should I praise your bravery or your ignorance?" As Bol finished speaking, the snake on his shoulder suddenly raised its head, and two streams of venom shot out from its fangs toward Geralt.

Buzz~~ Geralt raised his arm, sending out a tremendous push of force from his palm, sending the venom, the carpet, the furniture, and the dust in the air flying outward.

"Damn!" Before the smoke cleared, Geralt saw a dozen fireballs flying toward him through the dust.

Among them were regular fireballs and explosive ones. In such a narrow space, there was no way to dodge, so Geralt could only raise a magical shield to block them.

"Strange magic shield!"

Geralt's shield was different from other mages. It was a spherical shield that enveloped his entire body. The orange shield blocked all the magical attacks, not even tearing his clothes. Bol couldn't help but mutter in amazement.

The fireballs kept exploding against the shield, one round after another, and soon ice spikes and lightning joined in.

As Geralt's magical shield gradually faded from orange to a pale yellow, it became clear that even though he was two levels higher, he couldn't withstand such a drain from fighting against so many mages.

Moreover, the strongest Skinchanger was still standing in place. Geralt peered through his shield and saw Bol grinning at him, the runes on his battle axe glowing blue.

"I surrender!" Geralt shouted.

The magical attacks stopped, and only when Bol saw the magical shield about to shatter did he speak: "Stop!"

As the attacks ceased, Geralt collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily. Two mages approached him, removed his weapons, and shackled his hands and feet with heavy iron chains. They also found a pile of glass vials on him, all containing strange alchemical potions.

Bol picked up the Sea Wraith, examining it as he spoke, "Young man, you had multiple chances to break the magic attacks, but you missed every single one. You're far from capable of handling things on your own!"

Geralt lowered his head. Until now, he had only fought regular humans, relying on his magic to crush them easily. This was the first time he had faced so many mages' attacks in battle, and he had completely forgotten the techniques he usually trained with, foolishly trying to match their magical power.

"Bol, what should we do with him? He is Wright's foster son, after all?" A mage, covering his ears, asked.

"There are detection towers in White Harbor, and the mages there have been paid off. Any vampire increase or decrease in the city is just reported. But if any human mage's reaction suddenly disappears, it will trigger an investigation. Especially Geralt, we need to get him out of the city first."

Geralt felt a bit relieved, knowing he wouldn't be killed immediately.

At that moment, Bol's eyes turned yellow again.

A long wolf howl echoed through the building, reaching them.

Geralt shouted, "Dual Skinchanger!"

Bol raised a finger in front of Geralt's face. A small, pointed beak emerged from his coat, and a tiny raven with incomplete feathers and unable to fly appeared.

"Oh, by the way, the three of your freezing companions have also been captured. You're Wright's foster son, yet you're inside having fun with women while your men freeze outside. That's not the style of your foster father at all."

Geralt was furious and roared, "Who the hell are you!"

a three animal Skinchanger, apart from factors like illiteracy, poor training, and injuries, should theoretically be on par with Qyburn. It's impossible for them to remain inconspicuous.

Bol grabbed Geralt's chin with his calloused palm, and their two sets of strange eyes locked: "Do you think I'm foolish enough to tell you my real name? Shut his mouth, take him away!"

---

White Harbor has two major port areas. The larger one is for ocean-going ships, while the smaller one is for river vessels.

The next morning, a group of mages boarded a ship heading into the White Knife river.

A dozen or so city guards under Lord Manderly were checking the cargo on the ship, while a few tax officials were chatting with Bol and the other mages on the deck.

"Geralt! Why haven't the guards reacted?"

Bronn repeatedly slammed the iron cage with the shackles on his hands. The sound was deafening, yet the soldiers, standing right next to him, completely ignored it.

"We've set up a magic array around this iron cage, blocking all sound. All the soldiers see is a pile of rotten wood," Geralt's limbs were tightly bound to the iron frame.

"Aren't you a mage too? Think of something!" Sandor's deep voice came from the side. He was so massive that he had received the same treatment as Geralt, locked to another iron frame. Only the lean Bronn and the frail Jaqen, both wearing shackles, could still move freely in the cage.

"Come, come, take a look at my lock, made of fine steel! Before I can even try to break it with magic, I'll be killed by the magic myself!" Geralt now understood what Wright had meant; mages weren't invincible.

Jaqen sat cross-legged on the floor: "After we leave the city, will they execute us?"

Bronn didn't answer him but instead turned to curse at Geralt: "Dammit, we only earned twenty gold dragons, and the three of us are risking our lives for it!"

Geralt shrugged: "Save your energy, we might still get a chance to fight back."