Chapter 348: He Chases, He Flees, Neither Can Escape
"Mr. Willy, the Nilfgaardian Empire isn't some paradise of opportunity. Otherwise, the people in their conquered territories wouldn't be constantly rising up for independence."
"If you think you can simply spend a few coins to buy a title, even a non-hereditary one without land, you are gravely mistaken."
Seeing that Lynn didn't outright refuse, Alphonse's smile grew wider.
"Of course, I have no such grand hopes. The price I must pay is not gold."
This piqued Lynn's curiosity. "Oh, and what might that be?"
Alphonse Willy was a character who never appeared in the original story, only a figure mentioned in the background. His son, Cyprian Willy, on the other hand, had a significant role in the game. Known as Whoreson Junior for his cruelty, sadism, and utter lack of restraint, he inherited all these traits from his father.
Initially, Lynn had no intention of letting Whoreson I see the next day's sun, but now, having learned of his ambitions, he was intrigued by what this gang leader was truly after.
"I believe that is a private matter between me and my southern friends. As for us, my lord Baron, why don't we just stick to a simple business partnership? What do you say?"
Lynn wasn't about to let him stop there. He shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't see it that way. If you refuse to reveal your true intentions, I'm afraid our partnership ends here. I simply cannot trust someone who keeps things from me."
...
In the end, Alphonse conceded. "Very well, if you insist... but I hope you won't speak of this. It wouldn't be good for anyone."
After a noncommittal response from the witcher, Alphonse stated, "I can offer information to the Nilfgaardians."
"That's it?"
"Of course. Novigrad is a Free City, beholden to no political entity. It's the jewel of the North, and you could even call it the heart of the North." Alphonse paused. "You have no idea how much information passes through Novigrad every day. Whether or not the Nilfgaardians advance further north, they will always need the information I can provide."
Lynn knew that Novigrad was effectively the equivalent of Spain during the Second World War: a place where spies from both sides could operate freely. But Alphonse didn't know that Lynn knew, and there was no reason to tell him.
"Aren't you afraid of being exposed? Novigrad is sandwiched between Temeria and Redania. If they found out you were betraying the North, even if all three gangs stood as one, they couldn't save you."
Alphonse sneered. "If you don't say anything and I don't say anything, how will they find out? As long as I'm careful, I won't leave a trace." He continued, "Besides, how do you think I went from being penniless to the head of the Willy gang? Everything has risks. Unless you're content to be a good little citizen who gets pushed around his entire life, then yes, there is no risk."
"I've told you everything you wanted to know. So, what do you say, my lord Baron? Are you satisfied now?"
Lynn nodded. "I'm very satisfied. So, you can go die now."
Before the words were out, Lynn had already cast the Aard Sign. An invisible wave of force swept past Alphonse Willy's head, slamming into the two guards and the sorcerer behind him. Unprepared, all three were sent sprawling.
With a flick of his wrist, Lynn pulled a greatsword he'd picked up from Tyensel's shop out of his enchanted leather pouch. He pushed off the ground with immense force, launching himself like an arrow straight at the sorcerer.
The sorcerer's reaction was swift. Still on the floor and unable to stand, he conjured a gesture with his hands, and a ball of chilling ice spikes began to form. Seeing Lynn charging at him, he instinctively hurled the frozen cluster at him.
"Igni."
A stream of fire shot from Lynn's left palm, vaporizing the ice spikes in mid-air. The sorcerer's eyes widened in alarm as he hastily prepared a second spell, but it was already too late. Lynn was upon him, and the greatsword came down.
The nascent spell fizzled into nothing as the light vanished. Blood stained the wooden floor.
In that brief moment, the two guards had managed to get back on their feet. Roaring, they rushed toward him, swinging their longsword and morningstar.
Lynn turned, raising the greatsword high before bringing it down in a brutal, no-frills vertical slash. To the guard's horror, his longsword was split in two. The heavy downward strike continued, slicing into his shoulder blade and effortlessly sinking into his shoulder amid a spray of blood, nearly cutting the man in half.
Pulling the blade free, Lynn spun around. He dodged the other guard's morningstar and swung his greatsword in a wide arc, easily severing the man's thigh. The guard fell to the floor, his blood quickly making the wood slick. He clutched his severed leg, his screams of agony piercing the air.
Lynn twirled his sword, then gripped it with the blade facing downward. Thump! The blade pierced the heart of the screaming guard.
Lynn pulled out the greatsword, flicked the blood from its blade, and turned his cold, indifferent eyes toward Whoreson I.
Alphonse Willy was completely dumbfounded. Not by the gruesome scene before him, of course. He'd seen things ten times bloodier. The problem was that he was always the one doing the torturing. When he was the one left to be butchered, it was a completely different matter.
The old butler quickly drew a small, intricate hand crossbow from his waist. It was even shorter than a light crossbow, designed to be held with one hand and even usable by a woman. Its drawbacks were a lack of range and power, but its advantage was its convenience.
After aiming at Lynn, the old man pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation.
Then, Alphonse and the old man witnessed a sight they would never forget. The small bolt sliced through the air, struck the greatsword's horizontal blade, broke in two, and flew off to the sides.
The sight was so shocking that Alphonse turned and ran. The old man, in a final act of foolish loyalty, moved to block the space between Lynn and Alphonse. But he only delayed Lynn for less than a second.
Alphonse hadn't even made it out of the room when the greatsword, which had been thrown from behind him, struck him in the back, sending him sprawling face-down. The pain was excruciating, but in that moment, Alphonse seemed to find a well of boundless courage and struggled to crawl toward the door.
He didn't get far, however, before he heard the sound of footsteps, filled with a sense of utter despair, coming up behind him.
He couldn't even manage a plea for mercy before Lynn's expressionless face appeared, and a boot came down. The sole of the boot met the back of Alphonse's skull with a sickening crunch, and his head burst open like a ripe melon.
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