Chapter 2: Imperial Audience

(Author's note: I know this belongs in the "crossover section, but I searched the categories for "The Witcher" and found there is none, so I had to make this a regular Skyrim fic. And yes, this might have started off as a Witcher fic, but we shall get to Skyrim later. For now, all I ask is that you be patient and wait a few chapters until then. Now, without further ado, let's continue on to the next chapter.)

One day later, Geralt is having a bath at the Royal Palace in Vizima while maidens help scrub him. A man, Emhyr's chamberlain, enters and bids them to leave, much to the witcher's chagrin. He inspects the dirt level of Geralt's hair. "Think Emhyr cares if I'm clean?" the Nordling asked.

"The gentleman will refer to His Imperial Majesty by his full title or not at all. The gentleman will be seated in the bergere"

"The what now?"

The chamberlain pointed to a wooden seat and said "In that chair"

Geralt sat down on the chair and the chamberlain looked at his attendant. "Cledwyn, please shave the gentleman – sideburns to half an inch"

"What's wrong with my beard? Always thought it added to my dignity." Geralt commented. "It does" the chamberlain prefaced. "Yet it also detracts from your elegance. In Nilfgaard, we consider beards hard on the eyes. Especially beards infested with lice"

"Been on the road awhile. Fine, do your thing"

"Tilt your head back, please. And sit still" said Cledwyn. Geralt did as he was told and the man started covering his beard with shaving cream, then began to shave it off carefully.

"And prepare to answer some questions" a well-dressed man said as he entered the room. "General, I am not certain this is the most appropriate time" the Chamberlain voiced his concern. "I cannot think of a better time. Men turn honest when they feel a blade to their throat"

He approaches Geralt to introduce himself. "Morvran Voorhis; commander of the Alba Division. Before they take you in to see the emperor, witcher, there's some information I need you to verify. It's a formality, but one that must be seen to"

"Sure. Paperwork's gotta be in order"

"So, Geralt of Rivia. Place of birth – unknown, parents – unknown, age – unknown…all insignificant details. Let us proceed to more recent events – the siege of La Valette Castle. The fate of the defending commander, one Aryan"

"We fought on opposing sides, true. Then we landed in the same dungeon. Aryan escaped, set fire to the castle on his way out."

"Ahh, so that is how the blaze started. Our reports suggested the dragon was responsible. Moving on. You found shelter in charming Flotsam, and from there, made your way to Vergen. My question is – how?"

"I left Flotsam with Iorveth, commander of a Scoia'tael unit."

"A slayer of monsters and a slayer of men…you forge interesting alliances"

"Something tells me my most interesting is yet to come. Go on, next question – before my beard grows back in."

"We shall shave you again if it does. Very well. The infamous summit at Loc Muinne. You were there. And once again meddled in the affairs of the mighty"

"The mighty had imprisoned Triss Merigold. Oughta know I care about her. And I tend to rescue those I care about"

"And so you did, handing Radovid control of the Conclave and Council of Mages in the process"

"Nilfgaard recently started a war. Unprovoked. So do us a favour and stop moralising"

"The gentleman must sit still" Cledwyn chimed in. "I am almost done"

"I'm afraid I might find that difficult" Morvran continued. "Because from what I know, shortly afterwards, you watched a defective megascope blow your friend Sile de Tansarville to bits"

"Huh, an old acquaintance, more like. Not so close that I felt bad for her, but close enough that I knew she deserved it"

"He believes he alone knows what is good and what is evil, and that gives him the right to dispense justice" Your comrade, Letho of Gulet, described you so. Quite accurate, I'd say.

"My comrade – your agent"

"Well, national interest calls on one to forge difficult alliances at times. Alliances with witchers included"

"That an ongoing alliance? What's Letho up to?"

"I had hoped you would answer that question"

"Ah. So Letho's hiding from you. Must have a good reason. Was there a shift in national interest that might have caused that? I don't know where he is. Wouldn't tell you if I did, anyway. Blade or no blade to my throat"

"I believe that is all." Said Morvran. He gave Geralt a parchment and a quill. "Your signature, please, affirming you stated the whole truth and nothing but the truth, on pain of imprisonment or death, et cetera, et cetera. Here…and there"

"With these formalities seen to" the chamberlain prefaced. "I would ask the general to leave the room. We shall be choosing the gentleman's attire. An important matter, but one that does not require the general's assistance"

"Shame…I might have given you some advice. So long, Geralt. Good luck with your audience" said Morvran. He then took his leave and the witcher was led next door to an outfit display.

"Good" said the chamberlain. "Now the gentleman may dress. Sadly, I did not receive exact measurements. If the garments chafe, our tailors will adjust them"

"Feels more like I'm being readied for a wedding"

"Were that so, I would have prepared the gentleman a frock, a tailcoat, or possibly a dinner jacket. In point of fact, the gentleman will choose from these garments."

Three black Nilfgaardian doublets were adorned on display stands in front of Geralt, complete with a pair of elegant Nilfgaardian trousers and boots each. "Black, black…or black" Geralt observed.

"We do not like garish colours in Nilfgaard" the Chamberlain explained.

Geralt examined the outfits more closely. The one on the left didn't look much different from the one on the right, but the one in the middle had a different collar and the Golden Sun representing Nilfgaard pinned on the left side near the collar. Geralt chose that outfit, if only because it stood out from the others and put it on.

"And they say clothes do not make the man" the chamberlain commented. "Does the outfit satisfy the gentleman?"

"A studded doublet and a sword on my back – that's what would satisfy me. But tough, when in Nilfgaard…"

"Yes?"

"It's a saying. So what now? Powder my nose?"

"No need. The gentleman's complexion is light enough" the chamberlain answered. "The gentleman is to stand before the Ruler of the North and the South. I must confirm that he knows how to bow"

"I'm not some boor. I know how to bow"

"Please demonstrate."

Geralt did a simple head nod. "That, sir, is how you might bow to a whore on the street corner, not to the Emperor of Nilfgaard." Said an unimpressed chamberlain. "Please watch"

He gave Geralt a proper demonstration of a bow before a Nilfgaardian emperor. "Leg extended, hand flat, head down, chin to chest. The gentleman will rehearse"

The chamberlain stood up and watched Geralt bow in the exact same manner as he…well, not quite. Geralt's bow lacked elegance and discipline, but that was to be expected of a low-born witcher from the North. "Hmm…lacking fluidity and grace. But we've learned to expect less of Nordlings. Come with me"

The chamberlain then led Nilfgaard's guest out of the room and down a corridor full of armed guards standing in front of the walls that have been impressively decorated with statues of nights and swords and shields hung on the walls above their heads. "The gentleman will address the emperor only when asked to and using the appropriate title.

"Your Archmagnificency?"

"I see the gentleman is in the mood for jests. I fear the emperor might not share his disposition. "Your Majesty" will suffice. Spoken loudly, clearly and with respect."

They enter Emhyr's room; several nobles are already there. The chamberlain acts as a herald. In his native tongue, he said "Bow before His Imperial Majesty, The White Flame dancing on the Graves of His Foes, Emhyr var Emreis! Bow!"

The nobles bowed with the Chamberlain. Geralt however, needed a very brief moment to decide whether or not he should do the same.

The Butcher of Blaviken might have built himself a reputation for bowing to no man, even an Emperor, but the aforementioned Emperor had a reputation of his own for being a ruthless and bloodthirsty man. For a very brief moment, the White Wolf looked at the chamberlain bowing before His Imperial Majesty and figured that if he did not bow, the Ruler of the North and South would blame him and have him flogged or worse as punishment. And Geralt considered the chamberlain to be a friend…therefore he did not wish the chamberlain to be punished for something that was not his fault at all. So he bowed before it was too late.

"Your Imperial Majesty" Geralt addressed the emperor. A nobleman said to Emhyr in the Nilfgaardian speech "As your Majesty wished…" and also bowed. The emperor then said to everyone in the room except Geralt, for he was not familiar with the mother tongue of the Black Ones, "All except the Witcher will leave"

The nobles then left Geralt to speak in private with Emhyr. "I thought you bowed before no man" the emperor said while pointing his finger at Geralt. "Didn't want to disappoint the chamberlain. We're friends" he replied. "Take it you didn't summon me to reminisce about the good old days, so…"

"Silence" Emhyr cut him off. He rose from his seat and walked over to a nearby painting of a little girl with ashen hair. "My daughter Cirilla…she's returned. And she's in danger. The Wild Hunt pursues her. You will find her and bring her to me"

Needless to say, Geralt couldn't believe what he had just heard for it had been…too long since he last seen or heard from Ciri. The emperor appeared to be most certain of this, which wasn't really surprising given he commanded armies in the tens of thousands and a vast network of spies all over the Continent, even in the North. He must have learned something. And there was no doubt Geralt wanted to believe him, but without solid evidence, the emperor's word was not enough to make him believe with a sufficient amount of certainty. Besides, no man was infallible. Not even the White Flame Dancing on the Grave of His Foes.

"Are you sure? Ciri…left. Went far, far away"

"Do you believe I'd drag you in the middle of a war to discuss a mere rumour?" a somewhat disgruntled Emhyr turned to Geralt and asked. "I think anyone can be wrong. Even an emperor"

"I had forgotten how insolent you can be." Emhyr turned back to face the girl in the picture – who was not just any girl, of course, but his own daughter Ciri. "I haven't the time to convince you, nor the desire, in fact – Yennefer will do that, after this audience."

"How many men do you have in your army? Twenty thousand? Thirty? So why me?"

"You know why. Because she trusts you."

"She trusts me, yes. So tell me why you're looking for her. Doubt it's to make up for all those lost years"

"For reasons of state. As always. Enough of this banter. You will agree regardless. If for no other reason than I shall pay you. More than you customarily receive for a contract. Considerably more."

"Need information, not motivation. Ciri…leaves few tracks. She'll be hard to find."

"My corps of spies will help you. Count on them, and my army, should the need arise. Yennefer will tell you the rest. This audience is finished. Mererid!"

He called for his chamberlain from earlier, who entered the room no sooner than once he heard the Emperor call his name. "Take him to the sorceress"

Geralt then followed Mererid out of the room. "Follow me, if the gentleman pleases. Please keep close. There are many honourable guests in the palace, whom the gentleman…"

"Disgusts?"

"…need not bother"

Mererid led Geralt through the courtyard to the chamber in which Yennefer was currently located. "Once the gentleman is done, he should see me to retrieve his possessions"

Geralt then walked in to Yennefer's chamber. On his way to the court sorceress, he passed Ambassador var Attre who was dictating to a scribe what he wished to have written down in his report on a parchment regarding matters involving the free city of Novigrad – the largest city in the North to which he was Nilfgaard's ambassador. "That quill sharpened yet?" he asked. "Yes? Then scribe. The true authority in Novigrad is not the city council or the merchant's guild, but the Church of the Eternal Fire and the criminal underworld. At times, it is difficult to tell one from the other…"

"Please, Your Excellency, I am falling behind"

"You know what? I'll write the report myself. You'll need only to prepare a clean draft in triplicate"

Geralt then entered Yennefer's room. Upon seeing him in his doublet, she greeted him by saying "Geralt! That tunic – you look positively smashing"

"Ugh, dying to take it off" the witcher complained.

"I'd consider that a proposition under different circumstances…one I might even take you up on. But we've matters to attend to. Now do you understand why I'm at Emhyr's court"

"Mhm. And it seems we're in the same boat now. Ciri – she's really back? There's no chance he's mistaken?"

They stare at a parchment of Ciri's alleged likeness. "Look – that's more or less what she looks like now, or so our agents claim. Our little witcher's grown into a young lady"

"How about that…she's grown up."

"It's been years since you trained together at Kaer Morhen. A great deal has changed"

"You haven't. Not a bit"

Yennefer smiled at the Wolf and even blushed a little. "I missed those awkward compliments of yours…but let's focus on Ciri, alright?"

"Right. Emhyr said the Wild Hunt's after her. I'd find that hard to believe – before what happened yesterday. How'd they manage to track us down"

"Because of me" the sorceress answered. "You see…I've spent months searching for Ciri. Using locating spells, haruspicy, geomancy, anything, really. I knew the Wild Hunt might sense it, perhaps even find me, but…I thought I'd tricked them"

"Well, guess you were wrong"

"Hm. I've sensed them on my trail, hunting me, for some time. If not for you and Emhyr's soldiers, they'd have gotten what they were after. I can't risk another encounter like that. It's time to put away the magic, turn to more traditional methods…to the best tracker I know. You must find her, Geralt. Before the Wild Hunt does."

"What's the Wild Hunt want from Ciri?"

"I've no clue, Geralt. Might've written them to ask, but I don't have their address. I know as much as you do. It must be about her blood, her gift. As for what the Hunt wishes to do with that gift, I—I'd prefer not to think about it, really"

"So where's Ciri been seen?"

"In two places – Velen and Novigrad. The trail in Velen is most promising. You should make that your first stop. Ask for a merchant named Hendrik at the Inn at the Crossroads. One of the emperor's agents, he should get in touch with you."

"That's it? No passwords, secret handshakes?"

"None. Sorry to spoil your boyhood fantasies. All we have in Novigrad are unconfirmed reports, rumours. But there you will have the help of our mutual acquaintance. Triss Merigold. Apparently, she's got a cosy flat in the main square."

"Sure she'll be delighted to see me. What about you? What will you do?"

"I shall sail for Skellige. There was a magic explosion there recently, blew half the forest down. I believe this had something to do with Ciri. I'll be in Kaer Trolde. Join me there once you've learned something"

"One thing before we go…Why didn't you contact me? Didn't need me? Didn't even want to see me?"

"I didn't want to spoil things. I'd heard you and Triss made a great couple"

"Yen…I'd lost my memory"

Yennefer frowned at Geralt. "Really? That's your excuse? Let's drop it, all right? "It's not what you think" or "it helped me understand how much I loved you" – I don't wish to hear it, any of it"

A moment or two later, they are both standing in front of the fireplace. "Guess this means we'll need to split up again. Not my preference, but I understand. Clock's ticking"

"It is indeed. So, why don't I teleport you to Velen, get you there at once?"

"Not gonna happen. I'll go on horseback. Soon as I get changed."

"Have it your way. Oh, and…you really look quite dashing in black velvet."

"Think so? Maybe I can have some of my armour lined with it. Hm. Good luck, Yen"

"Same to you. And if you wish to learn what's happened in the world while you and Vesemir roamed the wilderness, talk to Ambassador var Attre. That's him over there. And Geralt, I know it's wartime, but try not to be a hero, all right? Just check those leads and come back to me – in one piece"

She then gave him a kiss and said "I shall be waiting". Yennefer then used her to magic to open a portal, which she then used to leave the room – and Vizima entirely – to begin her search for Ciri on Ard Skellig. Geralt, on the other hand, decided to have a little chat with the Ambassador before leaving.

"Ambassador var Attre?" he asked, and the man in question looked to his left to see a witcher standing there. "Yennefer suggested I ask you about current events. The war and so on"

"Of course. The emperor's servants keep no secrets from each other. If you will, let us approach the map"

To summarise, Geralt had a fairly brief and honest conversation in private with the Ambassador. No propaganda needed, since nobody else was currently in the chamber. The witcher asked him how the war was going – which to his surprise, was apparently going very well, before Radovid attacked Kaedwen – Redania's ally and neighbour – and now instead of two weak enemies, the Nilfgaardian's face one powerful foe. So there is hope for the North after all.

He also made inquiries about Velen, Novigrad and Skellige and how the war has affected those regions. Then, when he was finished, he left Yennefer's chamber. Mererid was waiting for him outside. "How may I serve the gentleman?" he asked.

"By returning my things" Geralt answered matter-of-factly. Mererid then walked off to fetch the emperor's guest's gear while Geralt stood and waited for him in the courtyard. When the chamberlain returned with the White Wolf's possessions, Geralt crinkled his nose at his clothes' new smell.

"Citrus and cloves" Mererid told him. The fragrance will keep the gentleman's robes fresh somewhat longer"

"Mhm. Thanks bunches"

He then walked off and Mererid reminded him before finally parting "The Emperor is not known for his patience. He wants his daughter back, safe and sound. As soon as possible."

"Yeah, mentioned something of the sort. So long"

After a few days of riding, Geralt finally made it to war-torn Velen, Northern Temeria, the region south of Novigrad – called "No Man's Land" by the locals. And for good reason, too. No gods or masters rule over it. He who wishes to survive here must seek his own protectors.

It has never even been close to what you might call a "paradise", but since the war started, it has been bathed in blood…and quite literally, too. Armies have swept through this land, trampling fields, ransacking granaries and setting villages ablaze. Famine also plagues the people of Velen.

Though the Nilfgaardians have crushed Temeria's army, they have found it virtually impossible to control the local peasants because the war has spread their armies thin and the region is made up mostly of swampy forests that are difficult to control. Plenty of places to hide from soldiers in this neck of the woods. And several Nilfgaardian patrols have still yet to return to their camps. Consequently, the Black Ones were forced to temporarily give this province to a local Nordling warlord named Philip Strenger – A.K.A the Bloody Baron – who once served as a low ranking Temerian officer before Emhyr's men smashed the Northern Army. Ambassador var Attre warned Geralt to stay away from him.

The witcher stopped by Hanged Man's Tree and looked up at the corpses of dead men – most likely Temerian soldiers, by the looks of them - hung there by the Nilfgaardians. Hung by their necks from a tree so tall without a fair trial, for the crime of fighting for their freedom. Or so one might presume. There was a good chance some of them might have been mere peasants, who never raised a blade against the Black Ones yet they were falsely accused of aiding and abetting the Temerian forces and sentenced to death for a crime they did not commit. Such was the way of war.

Moving on, Geralt spurred Roach on towards the Inn at the Crossroads, set up near a major fording point in the river. Geralt dismounted his steed at the nearby stables just outside the door, hitched her to a post so she wouldn't go anywhere and entered the premises. The innkeep was cleaning a beer mug when the White One walked in. "Looking for a man. Goes by the name Hendrik"

"What do you want with him?"

Sensing that he was being led around because he hadn't ordered anything yet, Geralt said to the innkeep "Give me a bottle of something strong"

Just a few moments later, while Geralt was enjoying his drink, riders were heard galloping into town. "You gotta go!" the innkeep said. "I'll open the back way for ye!"

"Haven't finished my drink yet" Geralt calmly replied. Men in armour then bursted into tavern. "Innkeep! Vodka!" the first one to enter the room said impatiently. Noticing the strange white-haired man at the bar, carrying two swords on his back, the second asked "Who's this 'un?"

"Brave warrior, looks like" the third and final man answered. "Got two swords, see?"

"Oi, gray boy!" the first man called. "What's the point in having two swords?"

But Geralt did not answer. "Wonder if he keeps an extra prick in his trousers, too" the third man added. "You fuckin' deaf? Gonna say who you are, or do I need to loosen your tongue with me knife?"

Calmly, Geralt answered "I'm a witcher. Heard you wondering about my swords. Well, one's for monsters, the other – for humans. Only got one prick, though. In case you're wondering about that, too"

"Don't touch him. Don't even look at him. Worse than lepers, that lot"

"Saw one in action once. Killed half a dozen, blood everywhere. Freak didn't even show a drop of sweat"

"Got the stench of corpses on him"

"If you wanna rest, come with me" the innkeep said to the mutant and led him around the corner. "Thanks for not starting a row with those swine"

"I don't generally poke my nose into other people's business"

"Lookin' to stay the night?"

"No"

"Ahh…"

"I'm looking for Hendrik"

"Man lives in Heatherton"

"Don't know where that is"

"Other side of the hill. Looked thataway this morn and saw a strange glow. Imperials on the raid, perhaps, but who knows…"

"Anything else you can tell me about Hendrik"

"Odd fellow. Arrived from who knows where for no apparent reason. Shacked up with a widow whose husband was stabbed for a scrap of bread."

"Baron's men don't like strangers"

"Aye, an' he stays out o' their way. Always seems to know when they're comin', always manages to disappear"

"Thanks, innkeep"

Geralt then left the inn and headed for Heatherton. But just as he expected, he was too late. The village had already been ransacked. Homes had been burned to the ground and the local peasants had been slaughtered. At first glance, one might have thought this was just another Nilfgaardian raid…but what was strange about this village was that it was…covered in snow. How could this be, when winter's still a way off? The snows were not scheduled to fall yet. Not for at least a few more months. Perhaps the Black Ones had a powerful mage among them who could manipulate the weather?

No, of course not! The Wild Hunt did it. Why, you might ask? Because Geralt wasn't the only one looking for Hendrik. Sadly, the Wild Hunt had found him first. The White Wolf only knew this because one villager was lucky enough to survive this brutal assault by the infamous wraiths.

His luck, however, would have run out afterwards if not for Geralt. He arrived just in time to save the man from a pack of wild dogs that attacked him right outside his front door. Despite being rescued, the man was too frightened to tell Geralt of his own volition what happened recently, so the witcher had to use Axii to calm him down and prod him to speak.

The Hunt had unfortunately found Hendrik first…and brutally tortured him in order to get him to tell them what he knows about Ciri. And the torture was so bad, there was no way he or any other man could have survived it. He died a horrible, horrible death. Geralt walked into his home to find his mangled corpse on the floor and blood literally everywhere.

Yet despite what Hendrik had been through, the man showed amazing resilience…as he refused to give in no matter what and took the information he had gathered about Ciri with him to the grave.

And though Geralt may not have been able to save Hendrik…or the village, for that matter, he did manage to learn two important things about Ciri. The first being that she had quarrelled with a local witch, and the second was that she had met the local baron in Crow's Perch.

So now Geralt had only two leads – a baron, and some witch hiding in a village called Midcopse. The witcher decided to travel there first and ask around about the local sorceress. From them, he learned she lived in a hut that was not in the village, but somewhere fairly close by.

He followed the clues the peasants gave him and managed to find the hut. The witch in question was standing outside the hut and speaking to a group of peasants. When Geralt managed to get a good look at her, he recognised that she was not just some village herbalist, but a sorceress of the Lodge – a faction of the world's most powerful witches. Keira Metz was her name.

Needless to say, Geralt knew this woman well…though; it had been approximately two years since they last met. He leaned against a nearby wall and observed the peasants entreating her wisdom.

"Miss…cow's a-wheezin'" said a man. "Won't rise from the barn floor. Pus streams from her snout"

Keira gave the man a funny look. "Do I look like a dairy maid to you?"

"No, miss" a woman spoke up. "But you know things. 'Tis our last cow, none other left in the village…"

"Rest died of hunger, or soldiers led 'em off. Oh…we're as good as dead without her"

"I shall give you herbs" said Keira. "Mix them with water drawn from the spring at midnight, then make the cow drink them. But first you must clean out your barn. Thoroughly, is that clear?"

"Thank you, miss! A thousand thanks!"

"Enough! I've had my fill for the day – go home!"

The peasants left and Keira went back inside her hut, ignoring Geralt. "She's in a foul mood. We best come back on the morrow" one peasant commented.

"Watch what you say" another cautioned. "She's quick to ire, apt to take revenge"

"Bitch is in a proper fury." A third spat, ignoring the second peasant's advice. "Needs a man!"

Geralt entered the hut and asked aloud "Is anyone home?" but nobody answered. "Where did she disappear to?"

He searched the hut for Keira, only to find she wasn't home. And there wasn't much inside worth inspecting save for her book collection, a shiny mirror – the kind you don't often see in Velen – a pentagram in chalk drawn on the floor and that's about it…but then Geralt found an inscribed skull on a shelf near the mirror. "Powerful aura" he commented. "Must be some artefact, or…"

It then created a portal on the pentagram. "So, this is where she disappeared to" he said, then stepped in to find the portal lead to a tranquil glade. "Well, well. Nice"

At that moment, he heard a familiar voice say "I was wondering how long it would take you, Geralt. I'm upstairs. Don't be shy. Greetings, witcher"

He ascended the stony steps to find her lounging brazenly in an ornate bath. "Missed a spot" said the wanderer.

"Where?" the witch asked. Geralt pointed to the aforementioned spot and she started scrubbing it. "Hope you didn't come to gawk"

"No. To talk"

"Turn around and wait"

Geralt hesitated for a moment, but Keira signalled with her hand at him to look away and he somewhat reluctantly turned his back to her for a moment. She then got out of the bath and used her magic to clothe herself. Geralt then turned back around and, seeing as how she was now fully dressed, he said "Keira Metz in deep in the heart of Velen…thought you hated the countryside"

"I can assure you I do, now more than ever"

"Heard a witch lived out here. Never would have guessed it was King Foltest's former advisor"

"I'm so pleased the world's still able to astound you, Geralt. I actually envy you that sense of wonder – common in children, knights errant and morons"

"Hm. Someone's grown irritable. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I believe I greeted you with a pleasant view. Now tell me what brings you here?"

"I'm looking for a certain young woman"

"Oh, really? Who?"

"Apparently, she quarrelled with a local witch"

"Pff. Someone's been feeding you horseshit. The girls around here are too stupid to quarrel with me."

"She's not from here"

Keira paused for a moment, then deduced "You're up to something, Geralt. If I'm to help you, you must tell me what's going on. Who are you looking for?"

"Ciri"

"Ciri? Well…now I understand the secrecy. Not to mention the brooding, the furled brow. And you say she had some sort of problem with a witch?"

"So, you haven't seen her" Geralt stated the obvious.

"I'm certain I haven't. But recently someone asked me about an ashen-haired young woman. He claimed she would stand out from the peasant crowd"

"Who was it?"

"Not so fast, Geralt. No humble plea? No offering for the witch?"

"What's your rate these days? A couple dozen eggs? Three hens, maybe?"

"My rate rises with every word you speak. I'm not sure you can afford the information anymore."

"Hm, you're pricklier than I remember. Isn't living in nature's lap supposed to be cleansing, calming…?"

"Nature stinks" Keira answered. She paused again for a moment before adding "Oh, sod it, don't give me that look. I know it's Ciri we're talking about. It was an elf – this individual asking about Cirilla. No flea-bitten Scoia'tael slob, either, but an elven mage."

"He say what his name was?"

"He didn't. And he wore a mask. Very secretive all around, but…I liked him. He was intelligent and composed."

"He say what he wanted with Ciri?"

"Only that they were to meet in Velen. He wished to know if she'd arrived before he did"

"What was an elven mage doing in Velen?"

"Well, I tried to ask him, of course, about everything…"

"Of course."

"But you know how elves are – he asked many more questions than he answered."

"He leave any message for her?"

"No, but he asked where to meet her, to lead her to him"

"So you know where to find him?"

"Yes, he said he'd found a hideout in some elven ruins near the village of Midcopse"

After learning about this hideout, Keira walked back down the stony steps with Geralt and opened up a portal. "I'll go there with you" she said.

"Why? Think I'll have trouble finding this place?"

"I've unfinished business with this elf. He promised me something, but he never delivered it. Besides, I know you think as I do – that she might be there. And I'd like to see Cirilla, too"

"Let's go, then"

"Yes, let's"

On that basis, Keira immediately teleported Geralt and herself to the entrance of the aforementioned elven ruins. "This is the place" she commented. "Been here before?" Geralt asked her.

"No. I was hoping the elf would return as he'd promised, or else his waif would appear. At any rate, I've no idea what to expect from this place"

"Well, let's find out"

"Come on!" said the sorceress. They entered the elven ruins, which were dark…too dark to see clearly, so she casted a spell by magically projecting her voice and saying some elvish words to light up the way down the stairs. "Gvella, glan!" she said.

The spell lightened up the area a bit and they headed down the stairs. A short ways inside, Geralt spied familiar soldiers in the distance investigating a room. "The Wild Hunt"

"The what?! Phantom riders?! That means…I thought they didn't exist!"

"Feast your eyes on the non-existent, then"

The riders of the Hunt then disappeared into a portal. "Hm. Got a navigator with them" Geralt spotted a huge figure wearing similar armour to that of the Wild Hunt. Yet unlike the others, he carried neither a sword nor an axe, but a big magic staff. Clearly, he was the Hunt's expert on matters of magic.

"A what?"

"Can you teleport us to the other side?"

"I'd rather teleport us home. Do you really mean to follow them?"

"Teleport. Hurry up!"

"Not sure I like any of this. Follow me"

Keira opened up a portal. "Ready?" she asked Geralt. He allowed her to go first – "Ahhhh!" she screamed from the fall – and the witcher stepped in after her, but then he appeared in a cave elsewhere, alone. It was then Geralt remembered getting separated from your friends was just one of the many reasons why he so strongly disliked being teleported. "Damn portals. Wonder where Keira is now"

He ran down a tunnel – fortunately, not much stood in his way besides a few drowners and some poisonous gases which was nothing he couldn't handle – to find her in a room, where she had found a literal rat's nest. "Geralt! Do something!" she shrieked like a damsel in distress while using magic to shield herself from the swarms of vermin. "They're crawling out of those holes. Use a Sign! Or Bombs! Anything!"

"Stay calm! They're only rats!" Geralt assured her. "I hate…ugh! I hate rats!" she protested. He slashed his way through about half a dozen or more rats and then used Igni to set their nests on fire while Keira continued to shriek and scream during the fight, crying out things like "Geralt!", "Disgusting", "Get them off! Ahh!", "Uggh, it's disgusting!" and "do you know how many diseases they spread?!"

Once the rats were taken care of, Keira finally calmed down and released her protective spell. Geralt approached her and asked "you that afraid of rats? Could have annihilated them with one spell"

She glared at him and Geralt said "fine…won't say anything. So, what happened to you?"

"There's something here, something that distorts teleportation. I've no idea how the Wild Hunt got to the other side problem-free."

"Wild Hunt's teleportation magic is different. Got specially trained mages for that. Navigators, they call them"

"They can have three helmsmen and a parrot for all I care. I'll not risk that again"

"Let's go. Wild Hunt got a good head start on us, but we still stand a chance"

"Have you gone completely mad?! We must leave at once!"

"I gotta know what the Wild Hunt is doing here"

"But we came to find the elven mage, not fight the Hunt!"

"If they reach him first, we might not get a chance to talk to him. Besides…"

"Go on, finish!" Keira curtly interrupted. "Wait…you've some special interest in the Wild Hunt, haven't you? Is this about Ciri? There's something you've not told me, isn't there?"

"Come with me and maybe I will"

"Are you always like this? I'm beginning to feel sorry for Triss and Yen. Oh, very well. Let's go. Gvella, glan!"

They continued their expedition through the ruins until they came upon a magical projection of the mysterious elven mage, who said in his native elven language "Daughter of the Gull. Greetings. I await you, Daughter of the Gull"

"That's him! That's the elf!"

"Follow the sign of your sword!" the elf said again in the Elder Speech. The hologram then deactivated and Geralt asked "What was that? An illusion?"

"No…a morphotic projection"

"A what projection?"

"Something akin to a postbox for mages. Much safer than an ordinary letter, which anyone can intercept en route to its' recipient."

"Message was definitely for Ciri. Daughter of the Gull – Lara Dorren's heir"

"Indeed. It is what the elves titled Ciri. But what was the bit about the sign of her sword? A riddle?"

"Yeah, not a hard one, though. Not if you know she named her sword "Zireael" – 'Swallow'"

"Come now, who apart from you would know that?"

"Might've been the point. Your elven mage secured the passage, hid it, so that only Ciri could find it"

"He failed to foresee that someone like you would show up"

"Nevertheless, I think he was expecting some uninvited guests, made some preparations. Let's hope the Wild Hunt ran into some obstacles."

"Well then, let's go. Do you think following the swallows will suffice?"

"We'll see"

They continued on through a large, watery cavern