I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 149 Istvan Must Die

Upon hearing this, a hint of mockery, which only he himself could understand, flashed deep in Zieg's eyes.

In the original storyline, this venomous snake used this flawless excuse to swam brazenly into Skaritz's territory.

As a time traveler, Sieg knew better than anyone that István Tos was not a representative of any Hungarian opposition nobles.

The opposition? Him?

More like reactionaries.

He is Sigismund's sharpest fang, a venomous snake who would sell his soul for profit.

The so-called "alliance" is nothing but an excuse.

His true purpose in coming here was to allow Sigismund to peer closely through those eyes and greedily examine the vulnerabilities in Skarlitz's city defenses, the strength of its troops, and most importantly, the Skarlitz silver mine, which was enough to support a war.

In the original story, this always-smiling man manipulated everyone.

Even seasoned veterans like Radji, and even the later "Huszczek War God" Jan Žishka, were blinded by his superb acting skills.

But now, the hunter has changed.

Now that Zieg is in this position, the script will never follow that tragic path again.

"Since he's an ally," Zieg said, "we can't keep him waiting outside." "Please invite him in," Zieg said, "let me meet this representative of the Hungarian opposition nobles."

Radji did not notice anything amiss and immediately got up, instructing his trusted confidant guarding the door to fetch someone.

Before long, the heavy oak door was pushed open again with a teeth-grinding scraping sound.

A figure walked with elegant and graceful steps into the light and shadow of the hall.

He was a man around thirty years old, not particularly tall, but with a very upright posture.

He wore a soft hat, which was neatly and elegantly styled, with a long cloth tail hanging down one side, swaying gently with his steps.

A slightly round face peeked out from under the brim of the hat. His chin was clean-shaven, and he had no beard. His features weren't particularly sharp, but his eyes, which always seemed to be weighing something, gave him a shrewd and unapproachable air.

He wore a dark short jacket, with thick fabric supporting his dignified silhouette on the shoulders, back, and chest. The jacket was fastened with two leather straps and trimmed with delicate gold thread.

This outfit, unlike the blatant plate armor of a knight, was enough to show that his status was not low.

Istvan walked to the center of the hall, his gaze first lightly touching Radji, then locking onto Zieg, who was sitting in the main seat, like a keen eagle.

A barely perceptible hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, which always held a hint of a smile—clearly, the conspicuous ducal crest on Zieg's chest exceeded his intelligence expectations.

But he quickly adjusted his posture, elegantly placing one hand on his chest and bowing slightly, performing an impeccable aristocratic courtesy.

"Istvan Toth pays his respects to you, Your Highness Duke of Görlitz."

Zieg leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing the talented actor.

"I heard that His Excellency István has come representing the Hungarian opposition?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Istvan straightened up, a look of grief and indignation mixed with righteous indignation on his face.

"Sigismund, that usurper, did absolutely outrageous things in Hungary, and has long since aroused the wrath of both heaven and man."

"He raised taxes, slaughtered dissidents, and allowed infidels to hire mercenaries to plunder our land. The Hungarian nobles—all wished they could overthrow his throne and banish him back to hell immediately."

Istvan closed his eyes in anguish, as if the horrific scenes were unfolding before his eyes. "In my homeland, just because a baron refused to pay the so-called war tax," Sigismund's Cuman mercenaries stormed into his territory. They tied the baron to the back of his horse and dragged him to his death, and took his wife and daughters—we wouldn't even do such atrocities to infidels."

He reopened his eyes, his narrow pupils burning with the flames of revenge—if Zieg hadn't read the script, he probably would have been fooled by this superb acting.

"So I have come here, Your Highness." István stepped forward, clenched his right fist and pressed it heavily against his chest, his tone impassioned, "The nobles of Hungary have had enough of that red-haired devil's tyranny."

"We are secretly amassing strength. We have gold, warhorses, and even our spies in the Buda court. But we lack one crucial thing."

"Oh?" Zieg raised an eyebrow slightly, seizing the opportunity to ask, "What are you lacking?"

"A flag."

Istvan's voice became incredibly seductive as he looked directly at Zieg, as if he were looking at a sole savior, "a legitimate, noble banner that can command all heroes."

"Sigismund may be cruel, but he does possess the crown. The only way to oppose the king is to rely on another true king with royal blood."

"Originally, we placed high hopes on His Majesty Wenceslaus, but now he is imprisoned—God is our witness, Your Highness, if you are willing to raise the banner of righteousness, the nobles of Hungary are willing to unite under your banner. We can cut off Sigismund's supply lines from the rear and set fire to his stronghold!"

A brief silence fell over the hall.

Radji stood to the side, listening with fervor.

He was clearly impressed by the grand vision described by Istvan.

He looked at Zieg, his eyes full of expectation.

Zieg paused for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons.

In reality, he was barely suppressing the urge to applaud the liar in front of him who was spouting nonsense.

What a perfect pitch, Zieg thought. He flattered me to death while offering a pie in the sky that I could never have. His only goal was to gain my trust so that I could stay in Bohemia and cause trouble without worry.

"Your Excellency István."

Zig slowly rose from the main seat covered with a bearskin.

"I can feel your sincerity."

Zieg smiled broadly and patted Istvan's shoulder "kindly" with his hand.

He seemed completely unaware of how heavy his strength was for an ordinary person, squeezing Istvan's shoulder so hard that the bones cracked faintly.

The latter's face paled instantly, but he had no choice but to force a smile and endure it.

"In this world full of betrayal, it is my honor to meet a warrior who dares to risk his life for justice."

He looked at Radzi, "Lord Radzi, please order the kitchen to prepare a banquet. Since His Excellency István has brought the friendship of the Hungarian nobility, we cannot neglect our ally with meager food. Tonight, in this frontier region, we will forge that 'Holy Alliance' that will make Sigismund tremble."

Seeing Zieg's "spirited" appearance, as if he had already begun to fantasize about victory, Istvan finally felt relieved.

Young, arrogant, and ambitious.

This is the label Istvan gave to Zieg in his mind.

Even a lion with sharp claws is nothing more than a hunter's trap if it's not smart enough.

Despite the excruciating pain in his shoulder, Istvan put on a perfect, tearful smile and bowed deeply once more: "As you wish, Your Highness. This will be the beginning of Sigismund's nightmare."

Zieg looked at the bowed head before him, and his smile deepened.

Yes, this was indeed the beginning of a nightmare.

However, it's your nightmare.