A glint shined in the darkness, winking at the tiny needle of light that peered into the gloomy large cave. Dust and gloom danced around all areas of the chasm as large, heavy feet shuffled around the rocky floor. Grunts and moans sounded as the mysterious creatures moved with daunting intent as they carefully protected the shiny gemstone that sat at the back of the rocky alcove. Smells of chargrilled skin and set blood reeked and bounced inside the coffin-like interior, scrambling up any nostril that inhaled; jabbing the senses with pitchforks. The giant silhouettes that only slightly managed to stand out against the minute volume of light was so rigid and gigantic that it would send fright up anyone's spine. They were like giants that seemed as if they were the size of towers. One man's struggled voice splat out in the corner of the cave, tiny and restless. Blood dripped out of his mouth rashly as he tried to grab the precious glittering item that lie a few metres ahead of him. Unfortunately, the spike that had impaled him did not allow him to move, stuck against the nail that jolted through his guts. He continued to struggle, ignoring the fact that the more he moved, the more significantly the blood would gush out of his open wounds. For a moment, the enormous pool of blood, created by him and the many rotted corpses around him, shimmered more than the artefact; like passive competition. One of the shuffling giants heard his useless splattering and slowly grumbled towards the faint noise that he emitted. A few seconds passed until the man aggressively had his skull crushed against the weight of the creature's toe. More passed, until the giant grunted a sigh of satisfaction and turned back to join the rest of his narrow-minded comrades. They continued to shuffle in the dimly lit cave, ripping limbs from the corpses that decorated the cave then eating them with large amounts of pleasure. The grunts and moans continued as the glistening joyous gemstone winked at the crack of sunlight that danced at the other end of the chasm…
It was a sunny day at Kaer Morhen. The Sun blistered the concrete that made up the structured walls around the castle. Leaves and vines tried to protect them by frolicking against the mild wind. The air was calm, cheerful and complementing well with the strategical odour that emitted by the witchers that occupied the plots of lands. At one of many of the balconies that stuck out of the main part of the castle stood Geralt of Rivia, a monster hunter and master swordsman. Despite his title, Geralt does not hail from the city of Rivia. After being left with the witchers by his mother, Visenna, he grew up in their keep of Kaer Morhen in the realm of Kaedwen. He stood, hands on the warming stone banister, proudly upon the vast landscape of the Witcher castle. The scar of his face enjoyed the sunshine as he gazed upon the lush green fields in the distance. As he watched the scenery, blurs and gossips could be heard from down below. Ink blots of moving figures dotted the stone and grass on the ground, talking and going about their business. It was peaceful.
"Come on, my love. Cirilla cannot wait all day." Yennefer brushed up behind him, her raven-black hair stunning the sunlight. She was the youngest member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers yet is also the love of the Witcher and a mother figure to Ciri. She cuddled against him despite the hot temperature. Her smile emitted into Geralt's contented eyes, penetrating all defensive aspects of his personality. His heart seemed to melt inside as he gazed back onto her alluring face.
"I thought she could stand to wait a little longer." Geralt brought about a smile. They exchanged complements for an unusual amount of time before swiftly heading into the cool shade within the building. After Geralt had returned, after a few hours, Yennefer suggested a potential opportunity.
"A contract came up." She introduced. Geralt seemed annoyed at first, wanting a break from monster hunting – mostly due to the short amount of time since his last contract, hunting down a poor phantom on the Isle of Frologhe, just a mile off from Novigrad. "Don't sigh like that!" she laughed, "I don't think it's that bad. Have you heard of the very… monotonous King: Yeoman Janshai? Apparently, he needs a witcher to deal with a challenging yet peculiar job. Thoughts?" Geralt reluctantly agreed and decided to head out with Yennefer on horseback to a daunting castle to the west of Velen after admitting their departure to Cirilla and the rest of witchers that occupied their home.
The ride to the castle was short and swift. Geralt gazed and the frosty towers and pillars that built up the building. The area was in the north of the Skellige Isles, resulting in the chilly air. The concrete blocks seemed to almost shiver as a way of keeping warm. Yennefer and Geralt dismounted their steeds and tied them to a nearby fence in a fancy stall. The Witcher said his farewells to Roach and followed the sorceress across the bridge and into the castle. As they entered, torches hung from the interior infrastructure, occupying the immediate atmosphere with a pleasing warmth. Their orange light lit the otherwise darkened areas with ease and kept the mood of nearby soldiers content while they stood on guard with heavy steel and weapons. Several men were positioned around various corners of the well-built castle, perceptive for any unexpected movements or invasions – although their eyes seemed more tired than eager. Geralt and Yennefer came to a large open hall, red carpets smothering the cobblestones and wooden tables and chairs stood balancing metallic cups and plates. The room felt increasingly lonely than the others although the quantity of guards had multiplied. Geralt thought perhaps it was the long and bare echo that bounced footsteps and the occasional coughs. He looked around like an eagle, mapping out the room. Door… behind them. Windows… Possible escape route if the conversation gets too dull. Gigantic, important-looking throne… in the centre, being engaged by a particularly impertinent man who couldn't help to show off his gleaming, shiny crown upon his head.
"Come, Witcher." He began, "I have a request you won't want to turn down…" He left the information cryptic, which agitated Geralt somewhat. He preferred to get straight to the point, getting muddy and bloody in the fields fighting a noon wraith; but no… snobby conversations with rich kings it is… He looked at Yennefer who seemed entirely undisrupted by the arrogance that persuaded the hall, almost waltzing towards the man with an uncaring nature about her. "Straight to the point then…" the man, who was later identified to be Janshai, the king Yen was talking about earlier, greeted the pair, "There are ten amulets that I used to have in my company. Ten amulets which were… relatively expensive pieces of merchandise. Now, only one remains." He unveiled the shiny artefact from his neck. Pieces of expensive emeralds and rubies danced along the untouched gold of the necklace. Even Geralt could see that, no doubt, it was expensive and fragile. "I need you to find the other nine, scattered across the various lands and bring them to me, with haste! Don't worry, you will be payed a hefty sum of cash towards the completion of the contract." Geralt needed information, not motivation, and as he was given a tiny piece of parchment with all of the suspected locations of the amulets, he asked questions.
"Who stole them?" he poked.
"Who can say? I am unsure who or what stole them. It came in the blackest of moons to steal them under the noses of my men." Geralt looked around. There were plenty of guards stationed. It seemed unlikely that anyone could steal even a steel cup from this place without becoming plummeted to the ground by their heavy bodies. More questions were rallied before Geralt and Yennefer left the castle, sighing under the unanswered problems and missing gaps in their knowledge.
"How would someone manage to steal items as cherished as those without being caught?" Yennefer thought aloud.
"Exactly what I was thinking." The Witcher agreed. After some discussion, they decided to look at the list of locations in which some of the amulets might be. Velen. Novigrad. Skellige. All of the usual places but one which stood out from the page… Toussaint. Geralt thought to himself that this might not be some usual contract, and that this might be more complex than he originally thought…
The both of them travelled to the nearest location on the list: Novigrad. As they reached the cobblestone bridge which was half crumbled into the river, they dismounted their horses and headed into the bustled town centre. People rushed around their usual lives, the red rooftops gleamed in positive expression around the city, reflecting the cheery Sun to complement the general mood. Alleyways that let people down to shops and marketplaces spun off the main square like spindly legs of spiders. The wind squeezed through the tiniest gaps between the compact bodies that shuffled around the city. Bells rung furiously, men shouted – proudly selling their goods profusely; everything on display. Fish, fruit, vegetables… everything was there, ejecting their sweet aroma over everybody nearby. Geralt stopped and consulted Yennefer.
"Janshai said we're looking for a couple of shady thieves in blue leather clothing." He began. "A rag of some caught clothing was found snagged on a torch sconce on the night of the incident, said that's our best guess…" He rambled on swiftly with the item in his hand, without recognising that Yennefer had a more pressing issue on her mind.
"I think Ciri should come along. Three heads are better than two." She exclaimed.
"Absolutely not," Geralt stabbed, "We just got her back from the Wild Hunt; do you really think I'm going to let her out of Kaer Morhen's walls again?" He sighed. "As much as I know you admire her, Yen, we cannot let her come along…" he trailed off. He found a bench a few metres away from him and sat on it, swinging his head in his hands.
"I understand. You're right." She joined him. The Sun seemed evermore hot now, producing sweat on the forehead of various people, including Geralt.
"It's just… too dangerous."
"Very well." Yennefer agreed, "Come on, we have to trail that first lead." After a few moments of rest, they swiftly got up and headed towards the market stalls in hope for a lead about a missing amulet. From behind a large barrel in the dimmed light of an alleyway, Ciri peeked around the object, then quickly retreating back down Novigrad's city corridors after eavesdropping the conversation. Whilst making sure she evaded their sights, Cirilla dodged the witcher and sorceress whilst heading to the other half of the market stalls, asking about some thieves in blue clothing that may have passed through. Geralt, oblivious to Cirilla's presence, blindly started asking the local sellers about their current evidence and information. The hustle and bustle of Novigrad continued. People bounced off each other manically whilst the tall stretching houses danced in the now dwindling Sun. Somewhere in this ocean was a very expensive amulet, and the Witcher was positive they were going to find it.