Nilfgaard, May 1278

Thunder. Lighting. Rain.

These three things had plagued Nilfgaard for the past four days. The sky was still dark, despite it being well into the afternoon, giving the impressing of a cold day in winter rather than a warm spring day. The rains were often attributed to the death throes of the season. Summer would soon be upon the seat of the empire, and with it, the dry, hot summer would drain the creeks dry and turn the grass, trees and crops brown.

Though this wasn't on the mind of Leanus as he rode down the cobblestone wind had picked up for just a moment, removing his hood for just a moment. His scarred, wrinkled face frowned as he pulled the hood over salt and pepper hair, though it did little to cover his matching beard.

The well kept cobbles eventually brought Leanus to a hamlet: Dawnhill. He saw a few towns people out and about, clearly in a hurry to get their task done and then out of the rain. The town itself was a great example of Nilfgaardian architecture. All strong stone buildings at least two stories in height, a lamp post every ten yards across the main road in and out of town.

The witcher brought his horse to his destination in the town: The Red Fox Inn. He brought his horse through the courtyard, stables were on either side of it, with fresh hay and water. A young man, wearing a brown cloak over a studded brown doublet, came and took the horse by the reins as the witcher stepped off. He held a hand halting the stable boy, he pulling a long cane from a pouch on the side of the saddle. The witcher then nodded to the stable boy as a signal to take the horse. With a grunt, the venerable witcher made his way inside.

Opening the door Leanus was greeted with sights, sounds and smells of a lively inn; waitresses zig-zagged through the maze of tables which dotted the main floor. The witcher noted the strong, broad shouldered man with a sword at his hip watching the door. Passing by him the old man searched for an isolated table. Several gave the venerable witcher a curious glance, those who recognized his eyes and medallion cursed and whispered under their breathe, he even heard quite snickers at the fact that a witcher had to walk with a cane.

Grunting Leanus sat down at a table, far from the rest and with a view of the door. At first none came to serve the witcher, he heard the barmaids in the far corner attempting to determine who should serve him. Eventually a red headed women with a stern face appeared.

"What ye want, witcher?"

She was a nordling, that surprised Leanus. It was nice to hear a voice that reminded him of home. As he studied her face the witcher could've sworn he'd seen her before, though he could not place it. Perhaps it was the stern green eyes. The witcher recalled a hellion in a village outside Novigrad that helped him with a hunt, she had similar eyes, and that was about all he could remember of her.

"The darkest, blackest beer you have." He requested with a grin. He brought down his hood, showing his weathered, grandfatherly face. "Blacker than Radovid's heart."

At that last comment he saw a smile grow on her face. "I think we have some Cintrian stout in the cellar."

The bar maid disappeared off through a door leading out of the common room. The witcher tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically. Leanus gazed around the bar, looking for anyone who might cause trouble. The witcher passively rested a hand on the saber on his hip as his gaze was met with angry brown eyes, from a skinny, shifty young man, a wine glass in hand.

"'Ere's your stout ." The witcher's attention was brought back to the red headed women. She caught the witcher gazing over at the thin man. "Pay no heed to him. Simon is... Odd."

"Odd you say?"

The barmaid nodded. "Aye. Every time a travel come on through he tries staring them down. Doesn't speak a lot. Orders a glass of wine, stares at people, then leaves."

The witcher was about to say something when the door swung open. A women, grabbed in a black, form fitting, doublet and matching trousers stomped in. Her black leather boots clinking with every step as she made her way through the lively tavern. She finally stopped before the witcher, her blue eyes gazing down at the witcher.

"You witcher Leanus?"

Leanus looked up to meet the women's eyes. She had strong, imperial features, clearly of high birth. Her expression told more; clearly she believed this work was beneath her station. The way she tapped her leather boots told him she was just ready to get this over with. As such, Leanus would make certain to be as slow as possible.

"Depends. Who is asking." The witcher replied taking a sip of the stout .

"Alison Var Fogrick, in service to house Dorn." The woman introduced herself proudly before returning to her disinterested face. "I've been sent here my Lord Gerran; the one who contracted you."

Leanus nodded, taking another long sip of the stout. Truthfully it was subpar beer, but he had made the commitment to drink this beer and to annoy this highborn, so he took his time. After finishing the sip he wiped his face with his sleeve and looked up to Alison.

"Hmpf, figured. Only Gerran would send an errand girl to meet with a witcher. Tell me; what wonder is he building now?"

"I am no errand girl I-"
"Yes, yes, something very important." Leanus stood up with help of the table and brought his cane into his hand. "Now, if you wish, we can get on with it."

The women gave the witcher a nod and motioned him to follow her. "Your escort is becoming impatient. Best we get moving."

"Escort?"

The witcher was soon given his answer to his query as soon as he stepped from the warm, inviting atmosphere of the tavern and re entered the wet, gloomy village. In the courtyard of the tavern stood four Black Ones, fully armored, visors down, sitting tall in their war horses. Their armor shined in the dim light of the day. Leanus stared down the Impera knights with a certain amount of amusement.

"Think this impresses me?" Leanus asked Alison as she lead him to his horse.

Alison looked her shoulder. "I do not question my lord's command, master witcher." Her tone was sharp, clearly coming to dislike the witcher more and more.

"Huh, how ironic."

This time Alison fully turned to face the witcher. "How so?"

"Var Fogrick's sigil is the unbroken stallion, is it not?" Leanus asked with a faint sign of a grin.

Alison gave the witcher a angry glare. She flared her nostrils and turned back to her horse. "Mount your mare old man, 'less you need help."

With a grunt, Leanus mounted his horse, slipping his cane into it's holster. "Ready when you are."

She gave a sweeping motion. "Ride!" She commanded.

The Black Ones rode out, one after the other, one held back and allowed Alison and then Leanus to pass. The group of riders thundered their the town. The people in the town stopped what they were doing to watch the passing riders. Leanus watched the crowd, an old habit of his, he spotted a few faces he noted to be suspicious; a pale man, half elf, who seemed to grow paler at the sight of the Black Ones. A pudgy women stepping out of a shop, as if she was looking for someone. Leanus turned to to watch the other side, spying a group of young kids, clad in ragged black and red clothes. One stood out, a women, early twenties, who wore slightly nicer clothes, and a necklace which mimicked the golden sun of Nilfgaard.

The town seemed to disappear all too quickly as the riders entered the countryside. Leanus noted that the rain started to let up, though the clouds did not let up. He could hear the tell tale signs of thunder in the distance, more storms were to come. The witcher looked over to Alison, who was riding next to him, a hand on the hilt of her sword.

"You won't need to use that." Leanus said to Alison.

Alison did not reply, simply huffing and looking away from the witcher.

"So, you mind telling me about the contract?"

"You did receive the instructions?" Alison asked flatly. "You will be briefed by Lord Gerran when we arrive at the manor."

"So Gerran shall be home?" Leanus asked with surprise. "Hmm, must have to do with one of his offspring."

"How-"
"Because Lord Gerran is like every other lordling;" Leanus cutted off Cares only about furthering their family, and if it goes on. And judging by the armed escort and armed errand girl I believe it must be one of his sons. The older one."

"Lord Gerran has only one son now." Alison said curtly. "Sir Derik died during the war."

"So then it must be the last heir. Has he not other heirs?"

"How is this relevant?"
Leanus sighed. "I must know every aspect of the family. Cursing a son while other heirs live is pointless." Leanus begun to explain. "Meaning this is could be a personal vendetta, not an attempt by a rival house to uproot the other."

Alison was silent, as if she was weighing her options before speaking again. "Drake fell ill a fortnight ago. First we thought it a pox, but then things changed."

"Like what?"

"The mage and alchemist which were loyal servants to Lord Gerran for years fled only a week ago. Soon after a note was discovered, carved into the door of young Drake."

"Well?" Leanus asked. "Know what it said?"

"'You scorned me, now I scorn you!'" Alison said, she turned to the witcher. "That is all I know. I am the master-at-arms, my place is gaurding the manor and training the lord's offspring in self defense. Magic... Is not my strong suit."

"Rarely is anyone's." Leanus mumbled as they trotted down the road.

The manor finally came into view. It was exactly what Leanus expected; a marvel of architecture had the weather been better Leanus assumed it would look much more vibrant than it was. A tall, white painted, wall surrounded a tall elegant state house which stood on a hill overlooking a moor. Behind it was the river Elb which acted as a natural barrier for the south portion of the manor. As the riders came within shouting distance a horn was heard and the gates opened.

Upon passing through the gates Leanus was given a better impression of the manor. The walls had concealed the vibrant gardens which surrounded the grounds between the wall and the house. Statues of great Nilfgaardians, including the Emperor, Emhyr Var Emreis. One statue caught the witcher's eye however. It was no historical figure he could recall, but judging by the flower bed that surrounded it, and the large plaque at it's base it was someone of great importance. The statue depicted a knight, wearing a winged helm, in one hand was held the hilt of a large sword which was held facing down, the other held a shield with the house sigil of Var Dorn, the hammer in the sun. Leanus was about to ask about the statue but was interrupted by Alison dismounting and motioning him to follow.

Coming off his horse Leanus followed Alison inside the impressive manor. The interior was as grand as the exterior. A large chandelier holding a host of candles illuminated the vast, well decorated, foyer. A long staircase stretched in the middle, a velvet rug bisecting mahogany steps. Suits of armor flanked the staircase, as well as the two door ways leading to the other ground level rooms.

"Stop staring." Alison spoke up. "Lord Gerran is not a patient man."

"He will have to be." Leanus grumbled. "My kind of work is not the kind to be rushed."

Alison did not reply, instead she merely motioned for the witcher to follow her up the stairs. As Leanus climbed the steps he saw many of the servants who worked in the manor peer out from the doors below, and saw several leaning over the railings of the staircase to get a good look at the witcher. Leanus was used to such attention; the mixture of awe and fright in their faces, the whispers between the onlookers was almost as memorable as the wind blowing through the trees.

Upon reaching the second floor landing Leanus was guided down a long hallway going east. Lining the hall were what you expected in the manor of a lord; large paintings of family members, sculptures of both the former and famed individuals throughout Nilfgaard. Eventually Alison halted before a set of grand double doors. She, in a careful manner, wrapped her hand around the knob, turned it and opened the door, slowly. The women peered around the corner, like a child checking if their parents had gone to sleep, before fully entering the room.

"Lord Gerran." She addressed an unseen man. "Master Witcher Leanus Mutak of the Griffin School." Alison motioned for the witcher to come in.

"Please," A low, powerful voice called from the room. "Enter. Master witcher."

Leanus entered, Alison allowed him to pass, she placing a hand on her sword on her hip. The witcher was then greeted firstly by a number of tables, upon them lay miniature replicas of famous sites in the empire. Golden Spires the Royal Palace of Beauclair, the Black Forges and a soon to be completed Royal Castle of Vizima.

Standing over the last, incomplete miniature was a broad shoulder, tanned faced man in his late thirties. He had a head of thick black hair strong brown eyes, a well kept beard adorned a face with strong cheekbones and an equally powerful jaw. He was dressed in a white frock with red trimming he wore a black shirt and fine leather trousers, with matching boots. The man gave the witcher a nod and looked over to Alison.

"Alison, leave us."

"But my lord-"

"Out." Lord Gerran's tone was strong, unwavering. The Master At Arms hesitated for a moment before bowing and making her way out, closing the door behind her. "Now, that we are alone," Lord Gerran moved around the table, elegantly, to the witcher. "I trust you know who I am?" He extended a hand for the witcher to shake.

"Lord Gerran Var Dorn." Leanus took his hand, shaking it. "I've heard many things of your house."

"Have you now?" Gerran put his free hand on Leanus's shoulder, bringing the witcher closer. "Good things I would hope."

Leanus thought on how to best phrase what he was about to say. "They often say their are two emperors of Nilfgaard. One who breaks kingdoms, and one who builds them."

Gerran let a small chuckle out, he let the witcher out of his hold and motioned to a large oak desk sat in front a large window with a commanding view of the Elb river and even the capital, Golden Spires. "A drink? I heard you had a rough journey."

"It was wet." Leanus followed Gerran, hobbling behind the noble lord. "Though I've experienced worse."

"Have you really?" Gerran uncorked a bottle a delicious aroma of red wine filled Leanus nose. Leanus identified it as Esst Esst, the 1272 Vintage.

"Aye," Leanus truly, truly wished to have a glass and thoroughly experienced it, but there was work to be done. "Not to be a bore, but I believe my stories would be better told once the task at hand was finished."

Gerran grinned. "How refreshing." He said pouring himself and Leanus a glass each. He handed Leanus his and took his. "That is why I like you witchers, you're simple, no need for foreplay. I entrust you were able to pry out the reason why you are here from Alison?"

Leanus chuckled. "She is easy to convince."

"Why I sent her. She is very protective of me and my children, she acted as a midwife for Derek, Theresa... Volima." Gerran seemed to be hurt by that last name, he took a long sip of wine to cover the frown. "But I knew she would tell you. If I sent Hunter he may return with only your head and Franklin is too busy organizing the house to rid into Dawnhill." He took another sip. "That and I knew she would give you enough information to get you interested." He motioned Leanus too sit in the chair in front of the desk.

"That I am." Leanus sat down finding the chair was lower than expected. In contrast to Gerran's seat which was much higher. The witcher knew this tactic; used often by bankers as a way to passively intimidate clients. "Tell me, from the start, from your perspective."

Gerran nodded. "I was in Vizima actually, overseeing that." He pointed at the miniature of the palace. "The crown thought it was be a nice gift to the pacified Temerians. A fortnight ago I received a letter from a rider in the night. My son was ill, and the court alchemist advised I return. Naturally I left the next day."

Gerran took another sip of wine. "My arrival was greeted by panic. According to Alison someone had left a message on my son's door, and the alchemist and mage had disappeared in the night, stealing two horses and five hundred crowns." Gerran shook his head. "I've sent trackers after them, but the rain has made impossible to pick up any trail."

"Any reason for them to flee?" Leanus asked leaning back into the chair. "They leave a note? Any clue to where they'd go?"

Gerran sighed. "The alchemist, no, he was a loyal servant of my father, a faithful man, I always relied on him in times of trouble." He took another sip, his glass now half empty. "The mage however..." His mood change, now to a combination of regret and anger. "Was trouble."

Leanus quirked an eyebrow. "Trouble how?"

Gerran shook his head again. "I took him on advisement of the Marcus, the alchemist. They were old friends, and the mage was merely seeking a home after the Redianas ran him out."

"Guessing part of that was a lie." Leanus stated flatly.

"It was true, but not the whole truth." Gerran took a long sip before draining the rest of the glass. "I always had my suspicions of the man, though it was all but a feeling. Eventually I called in a favor from Imperial Intelligence. They found a similar description of a mage conducting... Less than ethical experiments in Redania." Gerran poured himself another glass. "Nevertheless, he was a wanted man."
"He have a name."

Gerran nodded. "Heinrich. Though the other mage implicated in the experiments gave no name, they simply referred to him as 'the Giver'."

"Hmm..." Leanus thought deeply. That alias sounded familiar, thought he could not place it. "The message, on the door, what did it say?"

"'You've scorned me, now I scorn you.'" Gerran said those words slowly almost as if he was examining them as they were said. "The mage fled the night right after that message was placed their."

Leanus scratched his beard. "Hmm, I do not think the curse is directed at you."

"But the message?"

"'Because we watch the snake, we miss the scorpion.'" Leanus said softly. "Because we assumed that the curse was directed at you, because of your station we missed the wording and placement."

Gerran became intrigued. "Go on."

Leanus took a sip of Esst Esst, taking a moment to truly experince the wine. "The message. The words were not one of your enemies. They wish to truly scorn you they'd curse you or more simply just kill you. Now your son is a way to strike you but it's the message that gives it away." He took another sip of wine, this time more out of habit. "'You've scorned me...' That is what is important, your son scorned some, this is payback."

Leanus finished off the wine. "Now we must simply find out who your son has scorned."