The Witcher: Black and White
The Red Handed Red Head and the Rampant Knight
Marvo stumbled up the incline from the Pontar and back up to the battlefield. Villagers from Kelama had already begun picking up the dead and carrying them to a massive pyre outside the town. Over half of the Scorched Knight's men were dead, many of whom at the hands of Marvo and Ciri. Marvo had only one clue as to how Turnican knew they were there.
Squatting among the bodies was the man with red hair. Tizus was rooting through the trousers of a dead soldier, picking out anything he could find.
Marvo approached the Skelliger. "You know, looting is outlawed in the Continents."
Tizus looked up at the Witcher and spat. "I'm not of the damned Continents. I'm not bound by your rules."
Tell me," Marvo said, crouching on the opposite side of the body. "How'd you do it?"
Tizus looked up at him inquisitively. "Do what?"
"Get that raven to Sir Turnican without us noticing." Marvo bluntly said.
The Skelliger licked his lips but said nothing. "Is anything you told us about Geralt true?" Marvo questioned. "Or did you sell him out to the Knights?"
Without a word, Tizus leapt up and turned to run. Before he got far, Marvo slashed at the man's ankle. Blood spurted from the open wound and Tizus collapsed to the ground, howling in pain. Marvo took a step towards him and stood over the prone Tizus.
"What did you say that was a lie!?" Marvo screamed at him.
Tizus flipped over onto his back, his face and red hair matted with mud. "Nothing! I swear! He paid me to accompany him to the edge of the wood to spy on the Knights. Only, I'd been paid by the Knights to spy on 'im and report his movements to 'em."
Marvo softened only a little. It wasn't that he lied, he just left information out. Still, he had ratted on them and put a whole village at risk.
Marvo took in a deep breath through his nose. "If they had killed us, what do you think they'd have done with you?"
Tizus grinned. "Spared me. Except that didn't happen, I was looting coin to get me outta this damn fishery village!"
"You are a stupid cunt, aren't you? They'd have cut you down like the rest of us."
"So," Tizus said quietly. "What are you going to do? Execute me for treason?"
Marvo's grip tightened on his sword and he drove it through the traitor's mouth. Blood bubbled up and spilled out the corners of his mouth and the back of his head. The ginger hair stained red. Marvo looked up from the corpse and saw Yen and Triss staring at him, along with the villagers.
Marvo wretched the blade from Tizus' mouth and sheathed it, walking over to where they stood he spoke.
"Jakob Tizus betrayed us, he told them where we were."
Yen sighed. "Bastard."
Triss glanced at Yen then back to Marvo. "Did he say anything before you…" Triss' focused turned back to the fresh corpse. "Anything about Geralt?"
Marvo sighed. "Nothing we didn't already know."
He left them there in the field as he returned to the inn for some much needed food. He didn't need inhuman senses to know something big was going to happen, with him in the middle of it.
/
Some Time Later…
Yen ascended the stairs to where Marvo had taken up residence. Unlike per usual, the Witcher's door was closed and latched. Marvo usually had it open. Yen put her ear against the door but heard nothing, whatever was happening in there, he was being as quiet as a mouse. Finally, she knocked. Once, twice, thrice, and nothing.
Suddenly, Marvo opened the door. He was stark naked and didn't seem the least bit ashamed about it. Yen had to stare at the ceiling to avoid looking.
"Marvo," she said quietly. "What the hell is going on?"
"Well, Ciri and I-" he began.
He needn't say anything more as before he could finish, he was already being flung across the room by use of magic and out the window and onto the muddy streets where Ciri was hastily trying to dress.
"Yen?" she asked as the Witcher landed in front of her.
Marvo climbed to his feet. "Yen." he confirmed.
From the inn, they heard the voice of pure motherly anger. "Ciri!" Yen shouted.
Ciri glanced from the shattered window to Marvo. "Oh, no."
/
Turnican once again sat at his desk, staring dead eyed at the man before him. The tall lanky individual was sweating beads, and for good reason. The anger was plastered across Turnican's face as he heard the news.
"Lord Knight." the man managed to say. "Sir Longhill has failed. He's dead."
A long deep sigh from the Lord Knight. "What of our informant? The Skelliger, what about him?"
"Dead too, Lord Knight."
A chill ran down the spines of the guards standing outside the Lord Knight's office as the young man screamed until he screamed no more. Turnican emerged from the room with a blood splatter running across his chest and face. He looked at both the guards, who tried not to make eye contact.
"Well!? Get me a fucking towel!" He shouted.
Both the guards scrambled from their posts and down the long hall in search of a towel of sorts for their leader, who was in a particularly bad mood. Turnican turned back to his office and the corpse of the man with his entrails sprawled out on his marble floor.
"How hard is it to kill one fucking Witcher!?" Turnican screamed to nothing and no one in particular.
One of the guards returned with a cloth towel, he saw the artwork Turnican had done. His eyes widened in horror.
"Oh gods." he breathed, terrified.
Turnican casually took the towel and wiped his face with it. "Bolster our defenses, they'll be coming for us next. And get someone to clean this up."