Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.
Here is a nice big update. I'll go over and fix through any problems with it later on. It took me a while to write it this down, and I just pretty much want it out here now.
"Geralt of Rivia!" The Bloody Baron raised his cup. "I thought I might never see you again, witcher! You look like you haven't changed one bit."
Geralt and his companions had arrived at Crow's Perch to a warm welcome. While it was true that he had done the baron a favor a long time ago, he didn't think he would have already returned from the Blue Mountains. Honestly, he wasn't so sure the baron would have returned at all.
Phillip Strenger, more commonly referred to as the Bloody Baron, was a former Temerian soldier who had declared his loyalty to Nilfgaard after realizing that resisting them was futile in the Third Northern War. The Nilfgaardian emperor had since appointed Strenger authority over Velen.
"It's nice to see you too, baron," said Geralt, raising his cup as well to meet his. "You've… uh, you've certainly gotten thin since we last saw each other."
Last Geralt remembered of him, the baron was rather rotund for a former soldier. No doubt he'd enjoy the benefits of his newfound rule before the witcher and he had met.
"Noticed that have ya?" The baron laughed as he patted his stomach. "Might be because I never touched another bottle of drink, but also moving up and down mountains will do that to you. By Melitele's tits, witcher, I lost count how many times we had to forage for berries and such just so we had somethin' to nibble on." He drank heartily from his cup. "Blasted monsters everywhere as well. I haven't moved that much even during my time in the war. It's no wonder I lost a bit of weight."
"Noticed the hanging corpses on the way here as well," said Geralt after drinking from his cup.
When Geralt and his company came into the region, many hanged men were hung from the trees. There wasn't an hour past down the road did they fail to see a man's body hanging off his feet with a rope on his neck. Geralt had heard that the situation in Velen was rather bleak after the war, but he really didn't think that the baron had anything to do with it. After all, he was supposed to have been at the Blue Mountains during the time.
The baron didn't seem bothered much by that as he tore off a leg from the roasted turkey at their table.
"A sign of progress, witcher," said the baron through a mouthful of turkey, pointing the leg at Geralt. "Those men had what's coming to them. Just wish it had happened sooner. Maybe then I wouldn't have as much to worry about."
"Hanging men as a sign of progress doesn't seem to be a very efficient way of measuring," said Lambert. He sat next to Geralt, cautiously eyeing the baron as he ate. "Maybe conducting a survey would yield better results? Just a suggestion."
"Well, you can take that suggestion and shove it up your arse!" answered the baron. "Hanging is more than those filthy bastards deserved for what they'd done. Can you believe that the people had even said that I'd gotten soft since my time away? Me? The ploughing Bloody Baron of all people!"
"No," said Geralt. "I don't think I could believe that."
"Well, it's true." The baron seemed to think as he stared at his cup. "Perhaps I did turn soft. I'm a changed man after all, witcher. Not the man you once knew. Certainly not the same man that took to the bottle and beat his wife and child with it."
"Could've fooled me," mumbled Eskel, chewing on a sausage.
"So what did those men do?" asked Geralt. For all his contradictions when they first met, the witcher knew the baron wasn't the kind of man to do things without reason. If he had the men hanged, it might just be well that they did deserve it. Though, time does change a man. Who knows what really happened in those mountains.
"It's a rather long tale, witcher," informed the baron.
"Hmm…"
"Not our problem, Wolf," said Eskel, reminding him not to meddle. As much as possible, a witcher never took sides. They slay the monster, get paid in coin, then leave for the next one. Vesemir constantly reminded them of that every time they tried to do something stupid.
"Maybe next time, then," said Geralt. He leaned over the table and looked at the baron. "We're here on a rather important business."
"Really now?" The baron put down his cup and appeared more attentive. "I guessed you wouldn't have come all the way here with two of your friends just to welcome me back. Well and good, out with it then. What is it that you need?"
"You seen any ashen haired women recently?" said Lambert.
"And before you answer, it's not Ciri," added Geralt. "Already found Ciri. The one we're looking for is—"
"The Lady Maria," whispered the baron.
There was a brief silence as Geralt watched the baron's face scrounge in deep thought. It seemed that they were in the right track. They weren't sure that the woman had passed through here, but if the baron knew of her after just arriving back from the Blue Mountains, then it's safe to say that they were close.
"You know of her?" said Geralt.
"I do," said the baron. He took the bottle of juice and refilled his cup. "Looks like you're going to have to listen to my tale after all, witcher. The woman you're searching for took great part in it."
"Not gonna cut it into bits and pieces that I'll have to work for, will you?"
"Shut it. I'll tell the whole bloody story this time. No cuts or breaks, I swear. Just sit down, drink your mead and listen."
The baron closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"How did it start? Let me see…"
"I want those horses tied down this time, dammit! If we keep losing them every time a nekker, ghoul or whatever other fuckin' shite out there shows up, we'll be damn walking the rest of the way!"
The baron shouted at his men as they set up camp for the night. They had come a long way from the Blue Mountains. A harsh journey. Even coming home after all that time, they still couldn't relax one bit. Bandits and monsters kept them on their toes. They lost more than a dozen men since the beginning.
The very first thing the men did was start up the campfires. Once the sun sets, darkness is quick to take the land. The heat and light of the fire gave them some measure of small comfort against the monsters and beasts that lurked in the dark. Though, passing thoughts among the men were if it were better or not to see them.
The baron sighed as he sat on a tree stump by the campfire. He warmed his hands by the fire, his stomach rumbling.
"Keswin, when'll you have that stew ready?" he asked the soldier who was shuffling over a sack behind the cauldron.
"Have it done soon as I find those taters, baron," answered the man.
"Oh for—It's right next to you, you dimwit!" The baron walked over and grabbed the sack. "Here! Get it ready as soon as you can."
The food hadn't been the same since they lost their cook to a wolf pack about a week ago. The first few days of nothing but swill had been hard to stomach. At least now the food was somewhat edible after those failed poor excuses of a meal that even pigs would hesitate to eat. Not that any of them there could complain much since no one else knew better.
The baron snapped twigs and threw them in the fire as he waited for their meal to finish. There wasn't much to do come night time. Sometimes he and the men would go for a few rounds of gwent, but other than that there was not much else to do but pass the time idly till sleep takes them. Half of their people usually stood guard around the camp. It was dangerous times they lived in. At least, a lot more dangerous than before. Even after the war with Nilfgaard was over.
Even once they reached the familiar region of Velen, it hadn't gotten easier on them. Dense forests, swamplands and war-torn battlefields that were still littered with the rotting corpses of men… it was a brutal place to live. Still… many people called it their home. It's one reason the baron had bothered ever returning.
"Baron!"
The baron stood up quickly at the panicked shout of one of his men, his hand already at the hilt of his sword.
The soldier approached him with fear in his eyes. It was one of his soldiers on guard duty. Something had him spooked.
"What?" he asked gruffly, tensed for battle. The rest of his men clamored around the camp for their swords, shields, bows and arrows. "What is it? More nekkers, foglets, ghouls? Or are those blasted pack of wolves back for more?!"
The fear-stricken soldier shook his head.
"What is it then?!" demanded the baron.
"I… I think someone's coming down the road, baron. I hear their horse."
"Bloody hell." The baron smacked the man on the side of his head. "Don't be daft, you idiot! There aren't no men foolish enough to travel at night. Not on a moonless night as this! You got us all riled up for nothing!"
"I-I swear it's what I heard, baron!" insisted the soldier.
The baron frowned unhappily at his man. "Shut up and get back to your post before I—"
A soft sound coming from the darkness at the edge of the camp was quick to silence the baron's words. He and the rest of his men all stayed silent as they listened carefully. The slow clip-clop of hooves on the ground was unmistakable.
"Dammit!" cursed the baron. He unsheathed his sword and faced the direction the sounds came. His men did the same. "Don't let it get near the tents!"
As the baron had said earlier, there are very few men that would choose to travel through the night. The only other reasonable explanation would be that it wasn't human at all. For everyone knew that evil monsters liked to move in the cover of darkness.
As they waited with weapons drawn and ready, the sound of the trotting horse slowly grows louder. It was getting closer to them. When the baron's hands turned almost blue from how tightly he was grabbing his sword, they finally saw the appearance of the rider. The light of their campfire illuminated the figure of the rider and his horse softly.
Though the light was dim to clearly make out the appearance clearly, the rider seemed well-dressed. His attire was not something that any of them there were quite familiar with, though they recognized it to be of fine make with a cape flowing from the back.
"Halt!" called the baron. "You may stand where you are. Come any closer and me and my men will bury our blades and arrows through your chest!"
Sweat ran down the baron's back. He couldn't see the rider's face due to the feathered tri-tipped hat he wore. The horse's head also blocked their view of his face. However, the rider seemed to understand what was said. He made no motion of approaching them.
"Identify yourself and state your business," said the baron.
There was a short pause before the rider answered.
"…I mean no harm." A soft-spoken voice answered that could only belong to that of a woman. It surprised the baron and his men to hear it. "I only seek refuge from the darkness of the night. May you share your light with this passing stranger?"
The baron frowned. This woman wasn't dressed like any woman he'd seen. To even travel through the dark of night? He and his men had heard enough tales of ladies of the night that approached one's campfire on their travels. None of it ended well for those travelers.
He was unsure of the rider. He could send her away and that would be the end of it, but if what she said really was true, then that would mean almost certain death for her. Still, he had to be cautious. It was not just his life he feared for.
"Get down from your horse, and we'll see," he replied. "I'd like to have a good look at you before I decide."
There was a short silence as the rider seemed to cast her eyes over him. He couldn't see it, but he could feel her watching him like a wolf. It relieved him when she unsaddled herself from her horse.
She stepped up closer to them, merely a few feet away from their pointed swords. The orange glow of their campfire brightened her features. Ashen hair and pale skin. Her clothes were obviously stitched with the quality of no poor men, but it was clear to see that it was made not for the comforts of one's home protected by walls.
The men gulped as they seemed entranced by her beauty. Though, there was no lust in those eyes of theirs. Only fear. Understandable, given the stories they had heard.
A woman of transcendent like beauty. A sculptor would be hard to depict the fine features of her face. Such things are said to exist only as a mask to hide behind. Usually to hide the true face of a monster. Succubus, bruxa, wraiths, white ladies, and such… there was no end to the number of creatures that used the lust of men to pull them to the sweet embrace of death.
"Catch." The baron tossed something out of his pocket.
The rider caught it easily in her hand. She opened her palm to see a coin in her gloved hand.
"Pure silver," answered the baron as she looked back to him. He sheathed his sword. "I'm not sure what your intentions are travellin' like this in the middle of the night, but at least I can be sure that you're no monster. Least not one that can look at silver in their hand without so much as a flinch. Come then, join me by the fire as we wait for supper. I'd like to know who you are and where it is you came from."
The atmosphere around the camp returned to normal. His men once more returned to their posts and to their duties. Gone was their fear of a monster being in their midst. Instead, the men sent curious stares at the woman that joined their camp.
The baron himself observed the movements of their temporary guest. He'd watched how she tied her horse down, how she walked, how she sat opposite of him. He could tell the woman was no ordinary traveler.
"Might I ask why a lady such as yerself be doing 'round these parts?" queried the baron. He noticed the ornate sheath of the saber she carried at her waist.
Phillip Strenger knew this woman was a noble. He was sure of it. He'd seen the difference. Sorceress were familiar with court manners and culture. They could play their roles well with any of the aristocrats from almost every country and culture. However, there truly was a difference from those who practiced and learned to those who were born into it. And the woman in front of him, dressed as she was, was clearly of high birth.
Almost every action she took was far too refined. Soft and never lacking in elegance.
He wondered how this woman survived the night. It seemed far too improbable.
"I come seeking to hunt," said the lady.
"To hunt?" The baron raised his eyebrow at her. "To hunt what? Foxes and rabbits? 'fraid you came to the wrong place for such fanciful sport. You're in Velen. This place isn't for bored noblewomen hoping for a bit of excitement."
"To hunt beasts." The woman laid her saber on her lap, tracing her fingers over it. Somehow, the baron knew that blade was no mere accessory. "I've heard from the villagers. There are so many of them here."
"Beasts? You mean monsters?" The baron felt incredulous at this. "What are you? A witcher? Don't be foolish. Though if you come seeking monsters, there's no better place than here, I suppose. Velen, after the third Northern War, is the perfect place for the pests. Necrophages gather near the old battlefields, ogroids stalk the hills, and relicts hide behind every tree. I don't see why anyone would ever want to go here."
"Then why are you here?"
The baron was silent as the woman looked at him with no trace of emotion on her face. He didn't know if she was truly interested or not. She seemed entirely apathetic from the moment he saw her.
"As shitty of a place as it is… there are still those who call it home," he said.
"Phillip?" a different woman's voice came from the baron's tent.
"Right here, my dear."
The baron was quick to get up on his feet and walk to his tent. There he held out his hand to a seemingly frail old woman. He tenderly pulled her from the tent and escorted her out to take a seat near the campfire.
"Anna," said the baron. "Stew's just about ready. It won't take much longer."
The woman was the baron's wife, Anna Strenger. Her treatment in the Blue Mountains from the medicine man had been successful. As the baron had hoped, the medicine man had managed to piece together the shattered mind of his beloved, though it took a long time for her to recover. However, not was all as simple and easy after that.
"Anna, we've a guest," gently said the baron whilst holding her hand. "I hope you don't mind."
Anna seemed to have just noticed the woman sitting opposite the fire.
"Oh, how wonderful to have another lady in our company," said Anna. She smiled at their guest. "My goodness I'm so sorry for how I look. I must be absolutely dreadful right now."
"Not at all." Their guest stood and bowed graciously. "I offer my gratitude and thanks for you and your husband's hospitality for a stranger."
"My, how proper." Anna looked flattered. "I beg your pardon, my lady. I know my manners are probably ill-suited. Especially that of my husband's. I hope we don't offend."
Their guest shook her head and offered a small smile, the first ever emotion the baron had seen her show, at Anna. It warmed her cold beauty to that of one so sublime.
"You need not fear so," she said. "I take no offense so easily. My etiquette is merely something I had failed to forget. I hold no power over you or anyone else. Please, pay no thought to it."
"Dear, why haven't you introduced us?" glared Anna at her husband, she seemed to be hiding how happy she was by scolding him. "Don't embarrass us now in front of such a handsome young lady."
"Right, right." The baron liked how his wife was in a good mood. "This is… uh, curses…" He scratched his head in frustration. "I forgot we haven't properly introduced ourselves after that whole fiasco."
"My name is Maria," the lady bowed once more for her introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"Lady Maria." Anna curtsied in a rather rushed way. It's been some time since last she had done so. "Anna Strenger, wife of this brute of a man next to me. It's a pleasure to have you here with us."
"Hope you enjoyed your meals."
Anna Strenger placed another warm pot of an aromatic dish on the table. She smiled warmly at the witchers sitting at their table. The baron grabbed her hand and pulled her to him for a kiss on her cheeks.
"It was the best thing I've ever had, dear," he said to her.
His wife slapped him lightly. "Oh, you! Don't think I'll start giving you more to eat after this. I won't have you turn round again."
The baron laughed as Anna returned to the kitchen.
"Glad to see your trip to the mountains worked well for her," said Geralt.
"Aye," nodded the baron. "Though, I greatly underestimated getting there. Turns out that damned hermit moved higher up the mountains since last I saw him. It wasn't an easy trek for any of us." He stared solemnly at the freshly made stew. "Anna… he hadn't entirely managed to heal her mind as it was."
"Seemed alright to me," said Eskel as he tore a piece of turkey.
"Geralt was right." The baron looked grim. "Those experiences she's had? They left a mark on my poor Anna. Not even that hermit could cleanse her of it. He advised us to return home. To see our daughter. He said seeing her might help Anna."
"What exactly was wrong with her?" said Geralt.
"Monsters, witcher. Monsters haunted her dreams."
A terrified shrill scream tore through the night, waking everyone at the camp. Some of the men quickly grabbed their weapons in panic, but those who were already awake just frowned and grumbled as they stared at the source.
In their tent, the baron tried to get close to his wife as she huddled in a corner with her sheets over her.
"Anna, dearest, it's okay! It's oka—"
"Get back! Get back, fiend!" She scratched at him, forcing him to back away as his wife shivered in fright. "Please go away! Don't take me! Don't take me!"
"Anna, please…" the baron tried to calm her down. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe. It's safe. I won't let them touch you, I swear. Come back to me, dearest."
He was able to close in and bring his wife to his embrace. Anna sobbed loudly in his arms, grabbing him tightly. They stayed like that for half the hour.
"Calmed down now, have we?" said the baron. "Want me to get your medicine?"
"Please…" weakly replied Anna. "I… I don't want to see them. Not tonight. Especially not when we've a guest here." She grabbed hold of the baron's arm again. "Oh, Phillip. Was I too loud? I must've frightened the poor dear…"
"No, dear," lied the baron. "It wasn't as loud as the usual. I'm sure she still sleeps soundly. Here, I have your medicine ready for you."
He handed her a cup of wine that he added the powdered medicine unto. It was a concoction created by the hermit specifically for her. It allowed her to slumber without interruption. Unfortunately, she could not take it every night. The hermit had advised them not to use it as much as possible. The medicine had ill-effect in the long term. One that would slowly increase the likelihood of her never waking from her slumber.
Every time she took it, the baron felt incomparable dread befall him. He'd always fear if it would be the day she would never open her eyes. When it was she who slept soundly, it was him that lied awake. They'd tried to limit its use, however, Anna would never get her sleep if they did.
"Sleep now, my dear." The baron laid his wife, already half-asleep with her eyelids heavy, on their bed. "No need for worry. Have a good rest. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you…"
Once his wife snoozed peacefully, the baron went out of their tent. He already knew he would no longer be able to sleep, so he may as well check around the camp. He saw some of his men twist and turn in their cots on the ground. They were most likely trying to get back to sleep after what happened. Sad as it was, they were already used to it.
His eyes wandered to the silhouette of their guest sitting by the crackling campfire.
"I… apologize if I've disturbed your sleep," he said as he walked up to her. "My wife… night terrors haunt her, you see? She'd been through a lot. I hope you can understand."
"I do…" said Lady Maria sitting with her back to him. "Oh, how very well I do understand… the horrors of a dream. It's a never ending torment."
"Then I pity you," said the baron. "It's been hard on my wife. Though, I don't see the marks it bears on you. Have you a way to stop it?" There was hope in his voice. Hope that maybe there was something he could do. "If you know of a way… please, I'll offer you whatever I have. Whatever it is that you want, just name it."
Maria was silent as the baron stood there waiting for her answer.
"…I cannot help you," she finally answered. "Simply because I know not myself how it came to pass."
The baron tightened his knuckles, then sighed.
"I suppose I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Things like this are never easy to get rid of. It's the cost of my mistakes that have made her like this. Even so, she shouldn't be the one to bear them. I'm sorry to trouble you with our own problems. She just took her medicine, so she should stay quiet for the rest of the night. I'll leave you in peace now. Best get some rest. We still have a day's ride until we reach Crow's Perch. If you are heading that way, you are more than welcome to join us."
"You have my gratitude once more," said Maria.
"Pay it no mind," said the baron. "Velen is a dung heap, but it's my dung heap. I know my Anna would appreciate you coming along with us."
The baron left Maria alone to check up on the rest of his camp. For the rest of that night, Maria just stared into the campfire in complete silence. The flickering orange glow of the fire illuminated her idle figure in a strange light that the men on guard found eerily captivating.
By the time the first light of dawn had shone in the skies, the baron's men had already begun packing for their journey. They always moved as much as they can while there is still light. The safety it brings them may be limited, but it is always welcomed. Hopefully, the sun will wait for them until they've reached the palisaded walls of Crow's Perch.
On the road, Lady Maria rode beside the baron's wagon, making conversation with Anna. She and her seemed to get along swimmingly.
"You've never been to these parts, Lady Maria?" asked Anna as she heard from their guest that this was her first time in the Northern Realms. "Do you hail from the south? Or perhaps from somewhere farther off like Zerrikania?"
"All I know is that I am lost," said Maria with a sad smile. "And very far away from the lands of my home. I fear I will never return to it."
"How'd you get lost this far then?" asked the baron who had been listening as he drove the cart. "You'd think you at least knew which direction that is you came from."
"I simply awoke one day to find myself in this strange land."
That is a hard thing to believe. But given the garbs she wore of clearly foreign make, perhaps it wasn't too tall of a tale. But then again, it's not like the baron kept up with the latest fashions. He and the people of Velen are a more practical lot than those fancily dressed men and women of Novigrad and Nilfgaard. Only sorceress would deign to keep up with such trends.
"That's terrible," said Anna. "Waking up all alone with no memories of getting here; it must have been difficult for you."
"Not at all." Maria shook her head. "The nearby villagers were kind. They offered me assistance and hospitality. I cannot express well how much I am thankful to them for it."
"Hmmm…" The baron glanced at her appearance. No doubt he knew well what the villagers had been thinking when they first saw her. He had worked for nobles once before, so he understood the thoughts of peasants better than most. "Yes… mighty kind, those villagers…"
"Well, you are more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you want," said Anna firmly. "We can't have a lovely young woman like yerself be out here alone. This world is a dangerous place we live in."
"I thank you kindly for your offer," bowed Maria. "Though, danger is something that is no stranger to me. I am a Hunter, after all. What are we without beasts to prey but beasts ourselves?"
"A hunter?" asked Anna. "A fine lady such as yourself?"
"That's right," nodded the baron. "You said you wanted to hunt here. Hunt monsters."
Anna looked somewhat disturbed by that.
"You mustn't," she pleaded. "You don't know how terrifying—how horrible they are." Her face was colored with fear. "…The ones that hide their true faces are the worse. They hide beneath human skins, but they do far worse than the ones you normally see. At least the nekkers, drowners, and such will kill you simply and quickly…"
The baron held his wife's trembling hands to comfort her.
"I am sorry if I caused you unease," said Maria. "But a Hunter… must hunt. You need not worry for my safety. As the student of Gehrman the First Hunter, I am more than capable of handling beasts."
"That sounds a bit like a witcher?" said the baron. "Can you tell me exactly what hunters do in your land?"
"We hunt beasts." The lady unconsciously laid her hand on the blade by her waist. "We are born of the blood. Made men by the blood. Undone by the blood. We are Hunters. We hunt beasts. It is… just what Hunters do."
"Blood? What do you mea—"
Before the baron could ask his question, a call from the front of their small caravan catches their attention. The train of horses had halted so they could not proceed. One of his men could be seen riding back towards them.
"Baron?" said his soldier. "There's something up ahead. You might want to see it."
"Then move the bloody horses forward so I can get there!"
The soldier glanced briefly at his wife. He moved closer to whisper something in the baron's ear that caused his eyes to widen. The baron jumped down from the cart immediately.
"Phillip?"
"Worry not, dearest," said the baron with a smile. "One of the wagons seemed to have gotten stuck in a ditch. These poor excuses for men are just too weak to pull it out of the mud so they need me to help get it out. I'll be back quickly."
The soldier gave his horse to the baron, who trotted off as soon as he got on.
"Your husband is quite dependable," remarked Maria.
"Yes, that he is," said Anna. "Mind you he hadn't always been this way, but I can't say I hate him for it. He's gone through a lot for me, proven that he is a man of his word. I know I've caused more headaches than most would care." She turned her eyes to the south of them. "We've even had to take a longer route just because of me."
"Is there something there?" Maria asked as she looked where Anna's eyes were.
"Just a place…" said Anna. "A bog. One that had been the home of wicked things…"
"You recognize it, baron?"
"I'm looking at it, aren't I?"
The baron stared at the object hanging underneath a rotting tree by the roadside in their path. He frowned at seeing it when he first saw sight of it. He couldn't mistake it. He had encountered it once before, after all. It brought about unpleasant memories for him.
"What do you make of it, sir?" said one of his men who had gathered there. They were all unsettled by the sight of the object.
"That there are some folk who just can't let go of the past."
"But this close to Crow's Perch?" said another. "Right in front of a main road as well. Maybe its best we turn back?"
"Turn back?!" shouted the baron in anger. He grabbed the man that suggested so. "Turn back all the way back to the fuckin' Blue Mountains just because of an ugly trinket on a tree?! I am the fucking Bloody Baron that rules here! I'll not turn around with my tail behind my legs like some frightened pup!"
The baron grabbed the trinket from the tree and threw it on the ground.
"Burn it!" he said as he glared at his men. "Burn all of it! I want all of you to ride up ahead and gather every single one within sight of the road. I'll not have Anna see any of it. If even a single one is missed, I'll bash your heads myself! You hear me?!"
The men were quick to follow his orders. They got on their horses and rode ahead just as he said.
Once the men left, the baron turned his attention back at the trinket he threw. It was a grotesque item made of stringed together human ears. It had been spinning like wind chimes as it had hung on the tree. He'd seen them before.
Back at Crookback Bog.
"…What in the hell is going on here?"
Their travel Crow's Perch had been delayed a bit. The baron informed his wife that it had been hard to pull the wagon out of the ditch, which was the reason for the delay. In truth, he wanted to make sure his men had gotten every single ear in their way. He did not want to put any further stress on her. He would sort all of it out once they reached home anyway. He'd be damned sure of it.
It wasn't long before they started seeing travelers and peasants walking down the road with them. Mottled folk that worked the fields, merchants that traveled to hawk their wares, and some folk just passing through from this place to another. Crossroads to and from are close to Crow's Perch.
A soldier, not one of his original men, was on the road up ahead of them. He seemed to be accosting a family by the roadside. Unfortunately, this wasn't an uncommon thing even back when he'd still been here.
"Come on then, you know the drill," he said to the man of the family. "Pay up or you and yours will be up next for this year's offering."
"But, sir, we just gave them to you's this harvest," said the peasant.
"Oh, whassat you?" the rough soldier scratched his chin in thought. "Well, I must've lost it before it got to the sergeant. Sorry about that, but I guess you'll have to pay up again."
"Sir!" The peasant got on his knees. "We've nothing left to give! We've sold all we can to pay it the first time!"
"Then I suppose you'll just have to show at this year's offering," grinned the soldier. "You know you have to pay tribute to the lord of Velen. He's doing this for everyone's good, you understand?"
"I ain't doing anything for shite!"
The baron said as he came up on his horse with his men in tow behind him. He glowered at the soldier in front of them.
"And who the hell are you?!" demanded the soldier, looking like he was nonplussed by the baron and his well-armed men behind him.
The baron trotted his horse up to the man, and put his boot up his face.
"You think you can use my name and authority and not recognize me?" he spat at him.
"B-Baron!" The soldier could barely say through his broken teeth. "Y-You're back!"
The man backed away and struggled to get back on his feet. He looked like a confused mutt that had just seen the chick he was chasing turn into a cockatrice.
"That's right," said the baron. "I'm back. Now why don't you run along and inform my sergeant of my return. Tell him I expect a full report on everything that's happened while I'd been gone. Also, tell him that I'm righteously pissed off, so he'd better have good food on the table before I get there."
The soldier scampered back to his horse in a panic and rode off to do as he was told.
"Blubberin' idiot," muttered the baron. He approached the family left on the roadside. "I take it you folk know who I am? Or am I going to have to reintroduce myself?"
"No, baron," the peasant man bowed his head down. "It be clear to us who you are."
"Good, because I need you to tell me what exactly has been going on here since I've been gone. I've already stepped on one little shit, I'd rather know if there any others."
The peasant man exchanged doubtful glances with the rest of his family behind him before he answered.
"Things are not as it were, baron," said the man in a frightened tone. "It's been worse since you left. We can't speak any more than that. They have ears everywhere listening on us folk."
"You mean those ears scattered all over the place?" said the baron. "Dammit! So it is as serious as I feared. Does Ardal have anything to do with it?"
The peasant held his tongue. It was obvious to anyone by the face he was making that he was scared to death of saying anything more.
"Fine then," grunted the baron, leaving the family as he once more led the front with his men. "I suppose we'll see for ourselves what's happened."
"It's strange that Phillip isn't here with me."
Anna kept stretching her neck from her seat on the cart to check and see if she could make out her husband's figure at the front of the caravan. Her husband had left Keswin to drive the cart while he was gone. The baron had told her he wanted to make sure they suffered no more delays, so he had to lead the men for the time being.
"Only for no more than a few hours now, mistress," answered Keswin. The baron had made it clear he was not to inform his wife of any problems. "We'll soon arrive at Crow's Perch."
"I hope you do not think me poor company," said Maria. Her horse trotted alongside their wagon.
"Oh, no, no, no!" said Anna. "It's just that my husband had never left my side like this for a long time now. I just find it odd that he'd start now."
As much as possible, the baron had never left her side for more than a few hours at a time. He was concerned for her well-being. Though at times even she had found it far too much.
From up the road, passers-by glanced at their caravan. There are more people along the dirt roads now that they are approaching one of major hubs of Velen. Although, it seemed there were fewer than it had been back during their time here. Which was strange considering a war had been raging through the countryside back then.
When Anna saw one of the peasants passing by, her face froze as it seemed like the blood had drained from it. Maria had taken notice of it.
"Lady Anna?" she asked with concern. "Are you alright?"
"That man…" muttered Anna. She pointed at him. "He… he's missing an ear…"
"Yes," said Maria. "Does his disfigurement bother you?"
"No—I mean, yes!" Anna looked unsure but frightened. "It's… just a coincidence… Plenty of ways, plenty of reasons how a man might lose his ear. It doesn't have to be that. This is Velen, after all."
"Lady Anna?"
"Ah." She seemed to have realized that she had begun rambling to herself. "I'm so sorry, dear. I… I think I need some time to rest. Yes. Please excuse me."
Anna spent the remainder of their time huddled inside the wagon. Her silent murmurings could be heard by those nearby, but none dared speak of it.
"Baron! I see you've made it back down the mountains in one piece!"
The baron frowned as he saw Ardal welcoming him right outside Crow's Perch. Beside the sergeant and some soldiers, black and ashen pyres crackled and smoked. There were burned and charcoaled bodies tied to stakes The burned and charcoaled bodies of men were tied at the center of them. It was hard to make out who or what they were. Still, it was easy enough to tell that they were humanoid. Some of them had opened mouths, probably from when they screamed as the fire burned them alive.
"What's going on here, Ardal?" said the baron steely.
"Just meting out justice, baron." The sergeant saluted him as he had always had, thought the smirk on his face was as slimy as ever. "These men had been accosting your loyal people. They left us no choice. I couldn't let them go unpunished."
"And what exactly did these men do?"
Sergeant Ardal took a sword passed over to him by one of his men. He showed the symbol of the pommel to the baron. The emblem was easy enough to distinguish.
"Witch hunters…?" murmured the baron. He knew them well enough. After all, it was they and the witcher that had helped him save his wife in Crookback Bog. Not to mention that his own daughter had joined their order.
"Aye, baron," nodded sergeant Ardal. "They've been accusing men and women alike of dark magics and called for us to burn them. I don't know if you've heard, but their order had been getting far too… enthusiastic with their ideals of late. You remember they burned sorceress, mages, and witches alike during Radovid's rule? Well, they seemed to have gotten into the habit of doing the same to non-humans, pellars, healers, and even herbalists in recent times."
"So you thought it right to set them alight?"
The sergeant smirked. "Isn't that something the bards would tell tales about? Poetic justice? I don't rightly know. It's not like I can carry a tune. But I just thought it a fitting punishment."
The baron felt something off with his sergeant. True, he'd known the man to be ruthless and even cruel during their time together as soldiers, but there was something off putting coming off that smile of his. There was also the fact that he couldn't recognize any of his old soldiers among his company.
"Now, you and everyone else must be tired and hungry, baron?" asked Ardal. "How 'bout you come inside and enjoy the feast we've prepared? Daylight's just about over. We can talk about those reports you wanted over a warm meal."
The skies were slowly turning dark as the last signs of the sun's orange light sets on the horizon. Cold winds started to rankle through the cloth and armor of the baron and his men. His sergeant was right that it would be better to finish things behind the safety of the palisade walls. However, the baron couldn't really be so sure of that. Still, the thought of his wife pushed him to agree.
Sergeant Ardal led them through the low moat and bridge. As the baron and their caravan passed towards the hold, they noticed the frightened eyes of the people hiding inside their huts. The only other people they saw were sergeant Ardal and his men. It was hard to believe, but it seemed the conditions actually looked worse than how the baron remembered it. Not that it had been a picture of wealth before. Things just seemed a little more… displaced.
"Jorgen," whispered the baron to the man riding at his side. "Recognize any of the men here?"
"No, baron." Jorgen and the others seemed to have already been looking for their old compatriots among the soldiers there. "Me and the others can't seem to find any old faces in this lot. Doesn't seem right, sir. I can't believe all of 'em would leave their posts so easily."
"Same," answered the baron. "It feels more like we're being led like sheep to a slaughter. Have the men keep an eye out. I don't like the look of things here."
As they entered the hold, things turned warmer and festive. There was a large bonfire at the center as tables and chairs were scattered all throughout the open space. Lanterns hung by the branches of the trees that illuminated the feast that was on the tables. The food seemed to glisten and moist at the sight of the baron and his people. It was a feast worthy of a king.
"How'd you like the welcome, baron?" smirked Ardal. "Was nice of you to give us a heads up on your arrival. Wasn't sure if we'd make it with all the preparations we had to make, but as you can see, we managed well enough."
It was more than enough. All the doubts in the minds of the baron's men seemed to have evaporated at seeing all the food and alcohol in front of their eyes. Some had already taken seats and dug into the vast pile of delectable, washing it down greedily with mead at their side without even waiting on their commander's order.
The baron slowly approached a table that had the biggest looking turkey he'd ever seen in his life. The scent of it tickled his nostrils. His stomach seemed to rumble deeply. With one hand he reached out and tore a leg off. As he was about to bite into that moist morsel of meat, he heard his dear Anna behind him somewhere near his men.
"This… this isn't right?" he heard her say. "Something's not right. I know this. I know something's wrong with all of this!"
The baron frowned. His eyes wandered from the meat in his hand to his wife.
Suddenly, everyone heard a loud bang of a door opening. From the cellar of the keep, a man, haggard and looking gravely beaten, crawled on the ground. From the emblem on his garb, it was recognizable that this man belonged the order of witch hunters.
"Don't eat it! Foul magic—It's the workings of a vile witch!" he said as he coughed.
With those words of his, a spell seemed to have been undone. The leg that the baron had held had turned into a rotting leg of a corpse. He dropped it on the ground and backed away quickly. The wonderful feast that had been prepared for them had shown its true appearance. Bodies and limbs of monsters and men piled on the tables with fresh blood still oozing out of them. The mead that had been prepared was nothing but the curdled blood, already turned dark.
"What is this?!" the baron shouted. The men that had already eaten and drank spilled out the contents of their stomachs. "What's the meaning of this, Ardal?!"
He and his men took out their swords and faced the sergeant. Ardal just sighed as he scratched his head.
"Really," he said as some of his men joined him at his side. "This could have gone much simpler if you'd just ate like the pig you were. Well, I guess it was also a mistake on my part. These witch hunters are a persistent lot."
"You'll burn in the Eternal Fire for what you've done to my men!" The witch hunter dragged himself to the baron's side. He glared at Ardal with intense hatred in his eyes. "He colludes with a witch that had terrified all of Velen! We were sent here by our order to investigate. When we found out his dealings with a witch, they had us butchered and burned after they fed us the rotting corpses like they do now!"
"Ardal!" The baron growled menacingly as he pointed his blade at his sergeant. "You traitorous bastard! This is how you treat me after my return?!"
"Poor, poor Ardal. Your baron seems quite mad at the feast we've worked hard to prepare just for him."
The disembodied voice of a woman vibrated in the air. A very attractive young woman seemed to appear out of thin air behind sergeant Ardal. She caressed his cheek and kissed him on his lips as her arms wrapped around him.
"How very rude of him, isn't he, Ardal?" the witch smirked at the baron. There was something about her that seemed familiar to the baron, he just couldn't remember what.
"N-N-Noooo!" Anna screamed. She tried to back away while the baron's men held her back to stop her from leaving their side in such a dangerous situation. "Why?! Why are you here?!"
The witch cackled as she watched Anna's frightened figure. "Why? Of course, it's because I wanted revenge. You didn't think I'd leave you be now, did you?" The beautiful face scowled, turning into a frightening visage. "Not after what happened. After all, it was you! You were one of the reasons why my sisters are now dead!" She stood beside Ardal and smiled. "Come now, my old servant. It's time to reap what you've sown."
The piles and mounds of flesh on the table slicked and sloshed as they moved. They pushed together and formed some sorts of abominations slapped together of flesh and blood. They pieced together parts of men and monsters that matched the number of Ardal's men.
"Flesh golems…" murmured the witch hunter. "How repulsive the dark magic she wields."
"You've thrown yourself with that witch, Ardal!" roared the baron. "Are you so willing to lose your humanity for this?!"
Sergeant Ardal simply continued to smirk. "What can I say? After you left, I got a taste for power. And I have to say, I find it more attractive than any wench in a tavern. With you gone for good, I'd have all of Velen under my rule. I'd also get to see your carcass eaten by pigs instead, for once. What's not to like?"
He signaled his men to attack, and the battle began.
The baron's men were hardened men. They've faced men and monsters before up in the Blue Mountains. Even a witcher would find himself impressed at these veteran soldiers. They stayed their ground, with the baron himself beside them. They held back their fears even as they faced monsters, because they learned quickly that it was those who showed it that tended to die first.
"You've lost weight, baron!" grinned Ardal as he crossed blades with his old commander. "I have to say I'm disappointed at that. I was hoping I could gut you like the pig you were!"
The baron pushed him back and elbowed him, breaking his nose. "I make no distinction with appearances. I'll gut you just like any other man!"
They clashed again against one another as others fought their own battles beside them in a clamor. Two of the baron's men charged one of the abominations and pulled it down. One man took a blow from an abomination that sent him flying and crashing into Ardal's men. The golems were just as stupid as the ones made of sand and stone it would seem. Men shouted and screamed as the battle raged on. It was a chaotic spectacle.
"Where's your witch to help you now?!" snorted the baron after he butted his head into Ardal's. He'd almost cut off his sergeant's head after swinging his sword at his neck.
"You don't know?" sneered Ardal as he wiped the blood dripping from his nose. "Why don't you tell me where your wife is in this mess?"
"Anna?" Realization struck the baron. He turned to where he last saw her.
His wife laid on the ground with her back to a tree. Blood pooled around the fallen bodies of his men that had been guarding her while the Weavess approached. The witch had taken to savor her revenge slowly in the chaos of the battle.
"Anna!" The baron tried to run over to her. "Aaargh!"
Looking back behind him, Ardal had a dagger pierced into his leg. He smiled wickedly at him.
"Now don't be rude, baron," he said. "Let the ladies have their fun. We can just watch them from over here."
The baron smashed his knee onto the man's face. He tried again to move, but his injured leg couldn't support his weight. Ardal had also taken to blocking his path. He had no means of getting to where his wife was in time. He could only watch as the witch slowly walked up to his wife.
"Horrible…" The witch wagged her finger at Anna. "What a horrible servant you had been. You must be punished. Yes, punished in the most painful of ways…"
As the hand of the witch reached out to her, a blur intercepted it. The wicked hand of the witch sailed high into the air and fell on one of the tables of horrid meats.
"Aaaaahhhhhhh!" The witch lost the illusion of her beauty that she wore as she screamed whilst holding her cut appendage. Her appearance was now that of an absolutely disgusting crone that had been infected with all sorts of diseased skin.
"Not even a finger will you lay on her."
In front of Anna stood Lady Maria with her blade out. She stood firmly with her sword and feathered cap pointed at the ground.
"Foolish human!" hissed the Weavess. "I'll show you the most horr—!"
The witch seemed to freeze as she looked at the woman that had chopped her hand off. Surprisingly, she took a step back. Almost as if in fear.
"Human…?" whispered the Weavess unsurely. "You…? No… not human. You're not human. You're… something else. Someone like you can't be considered human. Even far less than that of a witcher. What are you?"
From underneath her cloak, Maria had taken out a long dagger, wielding it on her left hand as she held her sword on the other.
"I… am a Hunter," she said, raising her head to stare into the eyes of her prey. "And I've come to hunt."
"Kill her!"
All the flesh golems around them ignored the baron's men in order to fulfill the witch's command. They charged at Maria as their rotting flesh pounded on the ground.
Dual-wielding the blades in her hands, Maria slashed and dodged among the golems. She was swift and agile, her movements made with practiced ease. It was as if one were watching a performance on stage. Her blade cut easily through the jumbled together flesh of the abominations as she slashed and cleaved. Try as the golems might, they were far too slow and far too stupid to even put a scratch on her.
Before the last golem had even fallen from the fatal blow she gave it, she was already walking towards the Weavess, her intent clear.
A guttural howl pierced the night. It came from the top of the keep. The shadow of a lumbering beast could be seen under the night sky. It jumped and landed between Maria and the witch, sending tremors along the ground.
"My pet doesn't seem to like you either," cackled the witch.
The fiend roared fiercely at Maria. It charged on all fours at her with its horns. It didn't stop until it had hit one section of the palisade walls surrounding the keep, breaking a good portion of it. Though the fiend had moved quickly, his target had sidestepped its charge.
Maria had taken her blades and hit their pommels together in a twist. The sword and dagger came together to form a single twin-blade. She held it like lance, sword-end pointed at the fiend as she lowered her stance, waiting for it to come to her. The fiend obliged and came for her in another run, however, before it even got halfway to her, she had appeared in front of it. She thrusted her blade straight down the middle of the monster's skull.
The Weavess, seeing her pet killed, turned to flee. She, however, found herself unable to move or transform to make her escape. Looking down she saw a long blade pierced through her chest. Maria had thrown her twin-blade like a javelin when she had turned.
The witch turned her head and gave one last look at Maria. "…Hunter… you with cursed blood…"
With those final words, the witch collapsed. Dead.
Ardal's men started dropping their weapons in surrender. The death of the witch and her monsters had caused them to admit defeat. Ardal himself had fallen when the baron cleaved his sword through the middle of his skull. There was no one else left standing to oppose them.
The baron and his men cheered loudly at their victory. It had been an almost hopeless battle that they had not thought to win.
Maria stood in front of the witch's corpse. She freed her blade and flicked the blood away from it. Something fell from the witch when she had done so. She picked it up and dangled the item in front of her eyes. The wolf medallion held a silver sheen to it that the dark seemed unable to completely swallow.
The baron had set off to work on restoring his rule over Crow's Perch. Any man that had willfully gone along with Ardal and the witch's plans were sentenced to hang. Their bodies would be tied to every tree all over Velen as a sign to all that the foul misdeeds of these men have ceased, and that their master and mistress have fallen. It took quite a bit of effort, but a semblance of normalcy returned to Crow's Perch after a week's time.
Not all was well, however.
The baron's wife had slept through all of this. That witch's feast of gore had pushed her mind to the edge once more. The nightmares that plagued her had grown progressively worse. She had taken her medicine for three days in a row soon after they began. Until finally, as the baron had feared, she no longer woke on the fourth day.
"Has there been any change in her condition?"
Maria entered Anna's room. The baron knelt beside her bed, holding the hands of his dear wife in his hands. Every free moment he had not settling matters of his region, he was at her side. The only reason he wasn't there all the time was that he still held hope that she might wake soon. He didn't want her to wake up to any more horrors or problems that they'd left behind. But that reason was soon approaching its end.
"She still lies asleep…" The baron was downcast at the state of his wife. "Her body grows weak with every day passed. I've sent for healers, doctors, pellars—they say all the same thing. If she continues to sleep like this, she will not survive…"
The baron had actually intended to rush all the way back to the Blue Mountains with her, but he was told that he would not make it in time. Anna's body would not be able to handle the journey as well. The medicine the hermit had given her was strong. Herbalists could not do anything without being absolutely sure that they would make things worse. The only chance she had was if she were to wake on her own.
"I take it you've finished with those griffins at the glades?" said the baron. Maria nodded. "Thank you. In all honesty, I don't how to repay you for all you've done."
The lady Hunter had not been idle. Day after day she'd hunted beasts. Sometimes from dusk till dawn. It was one of the reasons the baron had been able to manage things without too much problems. The witch, as vile as she were, had been keeping the monsters at bay. Most probably through her witchcraft. When she had died, it was inevitable that those spells would fail. Thus, the monsters beset themselves on the people soon after. With the baron's own men now low in numbers, it would have been hard to repel them if not for Lady Maria's presence.
Lady Maria approached the other side of the bed and watched Anna sleep.
"It was not enough…" she said.
"Fuck that," frowned the baron. "I'm sorry if that may seem crude to you, but there was no damned way we would have survived that night if it weren't for you. You did all you could, and more besides. My wife… Anna wouldn't want you to feel responsible for this." He shook his head. "There's no need for you to feel guilt. That alone is my burden to bear. It was by my actions that had led to this."
All of this could have been avoided if only he'd been a good husband since the beginning. The reason his wife came to the crones was because of him. There was plenty of regret but no action taken that could have remedied it. His time in the mountains had caused the baron to reflect on his past actions. Admitting that all that's happened had been the fault of his was just the truth. And admitting it so had hurt him more than any wound Ardal could have inflicted on him.
"…You will leave soon, I take it?" said the baron. "Those griffins were the last of our monster problems here, but I'm afraid I can't say the same for the other places in Velen. My men are training new recruits as hard and fast as they can, but it will take time before I even consider sending them off to fight monsters. At least with bandits they wouldn't piss their pants the second they see them." He sighed. "I can tell you want to help those people. Like you've helped us. You're acting like a saint, and I don't mean that as a compliment. Many will take advantage of you for it. There are monsters that pretend to be human, and there are humans that act like monsters."
"I am no saint," said Maria. "And I am not without sin to bear."
While it had been hard to hear over the battle, the baron had heard what the witch said to her. That wretched, vile crone had said she wasn't human. He hadn't put much thought to it due to everything else lately. In truth, he didn't much care. The baron saw the sadness in her eyes that spoke of the cold truth in those words of hers. A true monster would not hold such regret and emotion.
"I shall take my leave come dawn," she said.
"I can't say I didn't expect you to leave so soon." The baron stood and offered his hand. "But as my wife had said, you'll be welcomed at our home should you ever return."
Maria shook hands with the baron. That act alone had given a rare smile to her.
The baron almost stumbled. He cursed himself as he tried to get his bearings.
"You've not slept."
"Aye," nodded the baron weakly. "Hadn't had much chance to. Worry not. This old soldier's grown used to it. It's not going to kill me."
"But it will affect your health," pointed Maria. "Please, get some rest. I will watch over your wife while you do. After all, I shall leave soon. I must bid her my farewells."
"I… I suppose I should," reluctantly agreed the baron. It was obvious that he had missed more than a few hours of sleep. The bags under his eyes were visible to anyone.
Maria had taken the baron's seat as he moved to another room. There was nothing she could do but watch in silent vigil. She does not have miraculous power like the healing church to wake Anna. She could only treat and mend like a nurse could, but otherwise, she can only offer words of encouragement to those in pain. But even words cannot do anything for the woman in front of her.
Maria felt for her rakuyo by her side. She can feel a presence in the room. A ball of white light hovers a few feet away from them. It did not seem hostile or dangerous. In fact, it seemed to radiate warmth and comfort.
This was a lubberkin. It was a sort of friendly guardian spirit. Specifically, it was the baron and Anna's child turned botchling turned lubberkin. The witch had sealed it with her spells to prevent it from interfering with her work. With the witch gone, it was once again free.
It moved itself right above Anna's bed, hovering just a few inches from her face. Maria was unsure of what to do about it, but she somehow understood that it was trying to help. So she let it be. Through the night, it continued to hum and flicker until dawn had shown.
When the baron awoke and entered his wife's room, he found her sitting up and smiling at the daylight coming through her window. He could not believe his eyes.
"Phillip?" she said as she noticed him. "I just had the most wonderful dream."
"Nice ending."
Geralt meant it. There were few tales that truly ended as such. Though a happy end is never truly an end.
"Could've done without the whole mystery meat feast turning into a total gore fest though." Lambert pushed away a plate of steak that he had set aside from earlier. His appetite had gone after that point in the story. "That is going to bother me every time someone offers me a feast now."
"Haha! You should join my men who ate it!" laughed the baron. "They've sworn off meat for the rest of their lives. Can't say I blame them. I'd have done the same if I'd eaten that filth."
"More for me then." Eskel grabbed the steak and chewed through it. He seemed unaffected by the whole thing.
"So what happened with Lady Maria?" asked Geralt. "Your ending didn't exactly say where she was going. It had taken us a while to track her down here, I'd appreciate it if you can point us in the right direction."
"Anna and I hadn't seen her leave," said the baron. "I'm not sure what she did, but she wouldn't have left without saying goodbye if she didn't know Anna would wake."
"Another miracle by our saint," chuckled Lambert.
"I'm not so sure it was her. My wife woke up telling me of her dream. She told me she was playing with our daughter. Our dear, sweet Dea."
"The lubberkin?" said Geralt. "It's possible. No one is entirely sure what they are capable of, given how rare they are."
Information is scarce about them. Even the reason Geralt had known about them was simply coincidence. He had been fairly sure that the tale on how to make one from a botchling was pure fantasy.
"I didn't expect much from what that hermit had told me," chuckled the baron. "But I suppose he was right that seeing our daughter would help my dear Anna. Though it wasn't the daughter we were thinking of."
"So we're still stuck to tracking where she went," groaned Lambert. He was right. With no knowing which direction she went, tracking someone through Velen's difficult terrain would take time.
"Might be easier this time 'round," said the baron. "The lady went with an escort. That witch hunter that survived the witch's grasp had left with her. Most likely he'd accompanied her 'till they meet up with his order."
"Hmm…" Eskel didn't seem to like that. "Those witch hunters could be a problem. Not all of them are bad, but… a lot of them tend to be overzealous. They've been starting up garrisons all over Redania as their influence rose."
"Tell me about it," sighed Lambert. "Keira wouldn't shut up about them after one tried to have her arrested when we passed through Rinbe. He was pretty understanding though after she told him how easy it would be for him to get blue balls by freezing his nuts. I gotta admit that I never thought someone using a cold spell could look so hot."
"Keep it in your pants, Lambert," said Geralt.
"There's one where the old nilfgardiaan garrison used to be," said the baron. "Seems they've taken to rebuilding parts of it to make it easy on them. They've an outpost somewhere in Grayrocks, but I've not heard much else from it. Their presence is strong in Novigrad, so you're likely to find someone there who'd know more. Though, from what I've heard, they might not be so welcoming there."
"They also had some kind of headquarters in Oxenfurt, last I remember," said Geralt. "Might be worth checking."
"Not as much as they did before, but, aye, they do have some men stationed there," said the baron. "Tamara should still be there. Anna and me will visit there after I've settled things here in a few months. We want to make sure our she's alright."
"Right," nodded Lambert. "Magic hating racists. Only nice and polite when they need you to do something for them. Better to send one witcher than have ten of their own men dead against a vampire."
"Don't see much of a difference from our usual contracts," said Eskel.
"Ah, but that's usually because of our line of work," argued Lambert. "Witch hunters hate us because of that and because we can use a little bit of magic. I heard some idiots from their order tried to find the end of a rainbow so that they could burn the entire thing because a kid had told them it was magic. The only reason they tolerate us is because they know we can kill monsters that they can't for a reasonable amount of coin."
"Hasn't been that reasonable," grumbled Eskel.
"Says the guy who also went with me to open an account at Vivaldi's," smirked Lambert.
"So where do we go from here?" Geralt took out his map and laid it on the table. "The old nilfgaardian garrison is in the opposite direction of Novigrad. They're both pretty far from here. We're going to have to split up."
"I'll take the old garrison," said Lambert. "I gotta pass through Midcopse anyway. Keira wants me to pick up some stuff she left behind in her old hut there."
"You sure you'll be fine by yourself?"
Lambert scoffed in mock offense. "How dare you doubt my abilities, Geralt. You know I've killed just as many monsters as you have. Maybe even more."
"It's your mouth I'm doubting," said Geralt. "I can't exactly picture you—No. I don't even want to picture what you would do if you met Lady Maria."
"Oh. That. Yeah, it's definitely going to be the sack—Ow! Damn it, Eskel!"
A/N:
I considered many times on just cutting this chapter into 3 or 4 chapters, but I would probably lose motivation at some point. I tried to make it a bigger chapter, but I think some of the writing, specifically the critical action parts are a bit lacking. I'm tired now though. It's time for hibernation until I get motivated once again. Already have plans ready for the next part of the story.
Anyways, I hope people read and review. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, please do inform me.
