JustSomeRandomReader01-those are the Ursine armor sets that appear in the Witcher 3 DLC, right (I can't remember which one)? The events of that DLC occur a little under a century into the "future" from right now as of this chapter. If they have been crafted already, they're with the School of Bear. If you're referring to who collects them in the "future," then it's very obviously Geralt because no amount of loot will satiate that guy :)


"Addie? Why are you sopping wet?"

Andryk replied with an unenthusiastic grunt as he crossed through the doorway. He didn't feel like telling them that his makeshift boat had fallen apart about two miles from shore, and that he had to swim those two miles with the weight of 920 crowns. Aegis was a little drier than he was, having shaken her coat out no less than ten times before reaching the house. As they walked in, Arda whisked out of the room and returned in a blink with a towel. Oslan helped Andryk out of his wet armor. Andryk peeled off his shirt and stuck it out the window to wring. Oslan watched with raised eyebrows as an impressive amount of water came out.

"Cove didn't give you much trouble, did it?"

Andryk grunted again.

"How were the lovely pirates? Make any new friends?"

Andryk reached down into his pouch and took out a handful of crowns. He counted them out, and then dumped them onto the table as he took a seat. Dipping his head down, he rubbed the towel through his dripping hair.

Oslan and Arda exchanged confused looks. When Oslan spread the crowns out and counted 20, his face changed into that of disbelief. He let out a sigh and leaned against the table. "And you still smell like her, you know that?"

Andryk leaned his elbows on his kneels, clutching the towel in his hands. "I need te find her."

"Sorry?"

"Os, she killed a witcher." Andryk looked up at him. "A Bear. One o'us." He took the second medallion from his belt and showed it to Oslan. "I found him on the cove."

"You sure a monster didn't get him?"

"There was an incision in his spine that came from a sword. Someone stabbed him in the neck. Unless you show me a siren or harpy that can swing one o'those around, there's only one explanation for what happened to him. No one else goes te that cove."

Oslan shrugged. "How are you going to find her? They haven't come here."

Andryk had an idea where they could be. "They can't go te Ard Skellig either—can't get too close te the king. I doubt they went te Faroe. Os, if you wanted te sell te a prolific black market, where would ye go?"

This time, Arda spoke up. "There was a 'ouse when I was growin' oop… folks called it 'The Bad 'Ouse.' Told us te stay away—the people livin' innit were bad, an' bought'n'sold te other bad people. Now that I think back, I'm sure soom o'the other 'bad people' were pirates."

"Spikeroog. O'course," Andryk said. "Conveniently close te the Northern Islands." He stood and pulled on his damp shirt. Arda tried to protest. "If I go now, I can make it before sunrise."

"Ye can't go oot in those wet clothes!"

Andryk threw his arms open, throwing droplets of water around the room, and then pulled his last gauntlet on. "The wind'll dry me off. Aegis!" The pup looked over to Andryk, snatched one last piece of ham from the kitchen counter, and hurried out after her master.


He saw their ship in the distance as he approached Spikeroog—a large, black mass that blotted out the stars. Andryk slowed his boat and stilled himself to listen. The ship was quiet. Likely all pirates had gone onto land to bask in what their spoils could get them in Svorlag.

But then, as Andryk drifted his boat next to the hull of the ship, he heard one set of heartbeats coming from the deck above. Slow, even breaths. And that fragrance. Andryk knew who was waiting for him on the deck above. He docked his boat and had Aegis stay. The pup promptly curled up at the bottom of the boat and fell asleep. Andryk stepped up onto the dock and found the ship's ramp. As he climbed up to the deck, he drew his steel sword.

She stood with her back to him, her hands placed daintily over the rails. When he was halfway across the deck, she mused quietly, "How did I know?" She gave a delicate sigh and tilted her head back. Andryk heard the soft hiss of a spray bottle and caught a strong whiff of minty lemon. For a second, his mind felt clouded, but he blinked the drowsiness away. Ronja turned when he was only a few feet from her. Andryk saw the icy blue eyes settle on him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The witcher on Trapper's Cove," Andryk growled. "Ye killed him."

"Did you know him? I shouldn't think so. You and him are so very different." She slid her hand against the rail. Andryk's eyes followed it. Again, he felt it—that inability to concentrate. "Is that why you're here, sword in hand?" Her brow furrowed as she gazed at him with a pleading look. "Andryk, I had to. He tried to kill me."

"I don't believe ye."

"He wasn't like you. He was greedy, arrogant."

"Sounds like someone I know."

"We gave him what we promised, but he tried to demand more. I reminded him of our deal, and he turned on me."

"Lies!" Andryk roared. "Nothing but lies! That's all that comes out o'yer mouth! Yer nothin' but a treacherous, slitherin' snake!" He swung his sword.

Ronja drew her own saber in a flash and parried. Her weapon was hardly even half the weight of the witcher's broadsword, but she used it to slow his strike down enough to step out of the way. Metal whistled as the two blades slid against each other. Andryk brought his sword around with a quick swoop and swiped it to where the pirate now was. Again, Ronja backed quickly out of the blade's range. Andryk realized that she was quick enough to take the split second window he had left for her, but she didn't take the opportunity. Maybe she wasn't as skilled a swordsman as he'd thought.

The fight continued in the same manner. He'd attack, and she'd slip out from the path of his blade. Not once did she strike at him except to cautiously parry. Then, strangely, Andryk saw her attempt to parry one of his strong, focused blows. The power of the broadsword sent the saber flying out of Ronja's hand almost, Andryk thought, with no resistance. She gave a frightened gasp as her saber slid in wide circles across the deck.

Andryk raised his blade, prepared to give the final blow. Then he hesitated, his mind clouding with doubt as he gazed at the defenseless woman and breathed in her scent. He couldn't kill her like this, not when she was without a weapon. It was disgraceful.

She had a weapon a second ago! He tried to reason with himself to move the sword. But he couldn't do it, not when she stared wide-eyed at him like a cornered doe. No! Not a doe! She's a snake! A snake!

"Andryk, please." Her voice was barely a whisper. His mind wavered. Minty lemon.

"Why shouldn't I?"

Her hand moved faster than he could follow. But Andryk didn't feel the wicked touch of a dagger. He felt the stinging spray of vaporized liquid hitting his face, blasting his senses with lemon. Andryk sputtered and turned away, letting the tip of his broadsword drop and dig into the deck as he fervently wiped his eyes with his other hand. The scent was so overpowering! Andryk scrubbed his face, but it didn't lessen. He could hardly think straight.

Then he heard her voice, loud and clear. "Andryk." It was soft. He loved the sound of it. "Look at me." He raised his head and looked at her. She was absolutely beautiful. The sight of her pale eyes twisted his heart. She beckoned him with a finger, and he came to her.

"Kiss me." He did, wrapping her tightly against him and kissing her with a lover's passion. He didn't want to leave the intoxicating touch of her lips until he felt her hand gently push against his chest. Reluctantly, he parted from her and once again found himself swimming in the blueness of her eyes.

"Andryk," her voice was deathly quiet. "Do you love me?"

Love? He felt as though his heart was bursting with it, thrumming violently against his chest. Andryk gazed down at this woman, his queen. "I do." Through his eyes, he begged for her lips again until she, his gracious queen, obliged. He was so ensnared in her kiss, sweet and cruel at the same time, that he failed to realize that the thrumming in his chest was his medallion reacting to magic.

Ronja pulled away from him, though he clung desperately to her. With smoldering eyes, she looked up at with a desire that matched his. "Then show me."

Andryk obeyed his queen. Fingers pulled frantically at cloth, craving for the skin underneath. A thick, crazed, blinding fog crowded his mind, causing him to flicker in and out of awareness. He had her against the mast, her legs wrapped around his waist and pinning him to her. His face was buried against her shoulder, gasping in the scent of lemon and wintergreen like he was suffocating. The sounds she made filled his mind.

The fog seemed to finally lift from his mind as Andryk found himself panting with his forehead pressed against the wood next to her head. The sensation of her hands caressing his back in long, sensual strokes was euphoric. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, something felt off. "What's happenin' te me?" he asked breathlessly.

She turned her head and kissed his temple. "We fell in love," she answered.

They did. Andryk had never felt love like this before. It was captivating. But when Ronja led him by the hand to her cabin, that blissful numbness slowly crept into a throbbing headache. Andryk sat on the edge of her bed as Ronja prepared a bath in a curved tub at the opposite end. He groaned, cradling his head in his hands.

"It'll pass," Ronja assured, her head relaxed against the smooth lip of the tub. After a few minutes, the pain did indeed fade. Andryk looked up and saw her reclined in the bath. The air felt warm from the steam, and Andryk could feel the dampness cling to his skin.

"Andryk, I need your help." Ronja raised her head and looked at him. Andryk stared back. Why the hell would he help her? She was a filthy… No, he loved her. He would do anything for her.

"What do ye need?"

"In a week's time, after my boys have rested, we're setting course for Bremervoord. The princedom is young, and I doubt it has a developed militia yet. Its port is glimmering with pearls and, well, I'm sure they wouldn't mind parting with a few."

"That's wrong."

"Andryk." Ronja smiled at him. His heart pattered. "We're pirates. It's what we do."

"I won't let ye."

She leaned towards him, gripping the edge of the tub. "Are you going to stop me?" she asked sweetly. "Would you be that horrible to me?"

Andryk blinked. "No."

"That's my good witcher."


She was impressed. Hardly had she ever used the full effects of the bottle's contents, but its power never disappointed. Ronja rolled the bottle between its fingers as she sat cross-legged at the vanity. The witcher slept in her bed, utterly exhausted. Ronja could tell he had been the type of man to freely satiate his bodily desires, and the bottle only magnified that lust. Only now, he focused it all on her. A smile played on her lips as she entertained the thought of keeping this witcher around for a good long while. He was easy on the eyes, and she enjoyed a man who carried as much raw power as he did.

Ronja lifted her chin and sprayed the perfume onto her neck to replace what had been washed off from the bath. Just the smell of it, the enchantress whom she commissioned it from told her, would weaken the mind and leave it vulnerable to her will. It was how she controlled this ship, those vile dogs. There were only a few men, brawny arms, who had strong loyalty to her.

A concentrated blast, the enchantress had continued, would leave the mind completely open. "Whisper their name in a lover's voice," were the instruction, "and ask of them what you want." Love, loyalty, or anything else. They were hers as long as they remained trapped in that scented cloud. She had strong, brutal men to scare the rest into following their queen. And she had a witcher gripped so strongly by what he thought was love that he was willing to do anything for her.

Ronja stretched, arching her back, then rose. With one last glance towards the sleeping figure, she left the cabin to climb up onto the deck. The few hands that were maintaining the ship for the night shuffled wordlessly to do their tasks. Ronja came up beside the navigator at the wheel. "How long before we arrive?" she asked, her eyes flickering up the waxing moon overhead.

"Shan't tek long, yer Majesty," the hunched navigator replied, one cheek bulging with chewing tobacco. "Bremervoord port sticks out o'tha Continent like tha nose o'a hag, it do. By me thinkun, we otta reach tha place by sundown tumurreh."

"A good time," Ronja remarked. "The fishermen will be tired and lazy at that point."

"Aye," the navigator agreed. He ducked his head down to huck spit and tobacco juice into a nearby pail. "Me queen, mayhaps we otta rally up some o'our other ships fer this one."

"It's a simple port with no official form of defense," Ronja replied. "We don't need reinforcements."

"Is just, me ol'bones are feelin'—."

"Your old bones don't command this ship," Ronja interrupted.

The navigator pocketed the tobacco in his other cheek and dipped his head. "Beggin' yer forgiveness, yer Majesty."

"Tonight, I'm feeling generous. You are forgiven. But if you ever get the urge to tell me how your old bones defy me, just remember—I can always have someone else navigate this ship." Ronja left the wheel and stepped down onto the main deck. She saw Aegis pacing around in anxious circles around the main mast. Ever since that night, the dog had been restless. Perhaps she sensed the change in the witcher.

Ronja ignored the animal and turned to the gargantuan man, who stood by the cabin doors and watched the night crew with sharp eyes. "We raid at sundown," she told him. "I want everyone to know we attack as soon as we land. If there's any sword hand not ready by the time the ramp hits the shore, I want it off at the wrist." The gargantuan man gave a solemn nod. Ronja walked past him and pushed past the cabin doors into her quarters.

The witcher was awake. He'd dressed himself in his trousers and now stood at her vanity, inspecting one of the bottles. Protectively, Ronja's eyes flashed to the perfume bottle. Then she reminded herself that there was no need to fear. The witcher was on her side now. Quickly, she relaxed. "Rest well?" she asked as she came to him and draped an arm across his chest.

"Aye." His arm came around her waist, his hand resting against the small of her back. "Rested enough te go fer a second round." As the witcher's hand slid up her back, Ronja felt it take the hem of her blouse with it.

"As tempting as that sounds, I need you ready for tomorrow. We'll be at Bremervoord by the time the sun sets." She drew away from him, reveling in the disappointment and longing in his eyes.

He gave her a grin and leaned on the vanity with one arm. "Ye think I can't take ye te heaven and back one more time and not have enough in me fer tomorrow?" He thumped his chest. "Stronger than the strongest man, remember?"

Ronja laughed and traced his sculpted shoulders with her fingertips. She was glad the spell had preserved the man within the witcher instead of reducing him to a lovesick puppy.

Pressed against his chest, Ronja was face-to-face with the medallion at the base of his neck. Since that night it hadn't stopped shaking, she noticed. She took it and pulled it aside to lay a line of kisses along his collarbone. The witcher pressed his face to her hair, breathing warm air onto her scalp.

She could have treated him like dirt, or ignored him entirely, and he'd still be just as enamored as ever with her. So why was she doing this? Why was she caressing his skin? Pressing her lips against him? She only ever used her body, her kisses, as bargaining chips to gain with. But here, her affection was redundant. So why?

I have a toy and I'm playing with it, she told herself. That was a good explanation. Still wrapped in his arms, Ronja told him, "And when the people at Bremervoord resist us, will you protect your queen?"

"With me life."

"Your life is nice, but I'd much rather you use your swords, witcher." She felt his chuckle vibrate in his chest. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed now." Immediately, his arms dropped from her waist. Ronja moved towards the bed, pulling down and kicking off her breeches. "Let the dog in," she ordered as she unbuckled her belt and removed her blouse. She slipped into the covers just as she heard the shrill whistle and the frantic pattering of paws. Aegis barreled into the room and jumped onto the foot of the bed. Ronja settled her head into the pillow and closed her eyes. She felt her witcher climb in behind her, wrapping an arm protectively over her.


Darkness had just started to creep in when the cat eyes opened and the witcher stared out into the ocean. The horizon was bare, but he knew it wouldn't be like that for long. They were coming at sunset.

He heard the footsteps, followed by the third clunking of a staff, approach him from behind. Without rising or turning his head, Kozin asked, "Are we ready?"

"Everyone has been evacuated to the castle," the croaky voice replied. Kozin felt the dock shake every time that staff came down. "Perhaps we ought to set defensive measures," the old mage behind him suggested. "Summon a whirlpool to bring the ship down. Have this dock explode on contact. Or set Ring Hexes along the shore." Kozin wasn't sure what those were, but given the sorcerer's inclination towards violent spells they probably weren't anything pretty.

"Don't. Can't risk it," the black-haired witcher replied. He would be with them.

"Oh right, right. Very well," the mage mumbled.

Codren was an interesting one. Even now, Kozin couldn't quite put the mage's personality into words. All he could say was that the old man had an annoying propensity for saying "very well" one too many times.

"You don't have to stay," Kozin told him. He knew not to underestimate the strength of mages, but Codren just looked so helpless with his wispy stature.

"And leave you to face those dastardly cretins all on your own? Oh no, no, no! How could you even suggest that? Bear witchers are odd ones indeed." He said that too many times too. "Did I ever tell you about that other Bear I met in Fornhala? Now, he was a particularly strange one."

"Yes, you've told me." About a thousand times.

"Hmm, well… yes, he was a strange one."

Kozin didn't know how someone could be so collected and so out of it at the same time. As he continued to wonder, he spotted a speck in the horizon that was growing fast. They were here. Kozin rose.

"Oh!" Codren yipped. He squinted his eyes until they completely vanished under his clenched eyebrows. "Here they come."

"We'll confront them in the port, not out here," Kozin said as he walked off the dock. The ground clunked as the mage followed him. "Stay in the back and don't let them near you. I'll need your support."

"Very well." The mage hurried ahead of him into the port city. Kozin strolled leisurely, giving one last glance at the approaching ship that was still far out in the sea. Andryk was on it. Kozin didn't think he'd see his brother again like this.

He passed abandoned stalls, empty of goods save for smelly barrels of fish. Netting lay over crates and in bunched up mounds on the ground. A shell crunched as it was ground to powder under the witcher's boot. He knew what they'd come to Bremervoord port for. All the boxes containing them had been crammed into one storehouse, sealed and protected by Codren's enchantment. If they had come for Bremervoord's livelihood, they'd have to fight for it.

The ground thundered like an oncoming stampede when they landed. The emptiness of the port must have confused them, because Kozin felt their footsteps slow as they entered the port. He drew his last pull from the pipe when they came around the corner to find the witcher sitting on a crate, the only soul in sight amongst the deserted buildings.

Pirates, looking just as ugly and ferocious as he imagined. The crowd before him could have made a troll look like a prince. They glared at him with their metal-lined scowls that the witcher returned with an apathetic stare. Then, he parted his lips, letting his voice come out soft and low.

"Last chance," he told them as he tipped the tobacco ash onto the ground, "to walk away with your lives and drink another day. If you don't take that chance, I promise I will have you bleeding on the ground."

They continued to regard him with their hideous glowers. Kozin wondered why they hadn't charged at him like rabid dogs already. It was almost as if they were waiting on something. Then he heard a voice he didn't at all expect from the faces confronting him.

"Witcher," a woman's voice purred, both rough and silky. She emerged, a diamond amongst the dirt. Kozin was amazed how much he could glean about her at first glance. She was beautiful, and the tantalizingly low blouse collar told of her sultry nature. Her scabbard, hitched at the hip, was strategically angled for a smooth draw and suggested that it was more than just for show. The circlet on her head, with its skull pendant matching the emblem on the flag, was worn like a crown. So this was the Pirate Queen.

"Your Majesty," Kozin replied, sweeping his arms out. Without rising, he gave a bow that had an air of mockery. "Humbled am I to be in your presence."

"Enough with the bullshit, yellow eyes. You're in our way." Apparently she wasn't going to play along with his fun.

"'Fraid I'm not moving," Kozin replied. "And I wouldn't advise any of you lads trying to get past me. Not if you want to keep what's inside of you inside of you."

"Charming theatrics," the Pirate Queen mused, placing a hand on her tilted hip. "Save the bluffs for gwent, witcher. You're outmatched. But let's make things a little more interesting." With her other hand, she waved someone over. Kozin watched the crowd shift as someone came through.

A witcher emerged to take his place next to the Pirate Queen. He glared solemnly at Kozin. The black-haired witcher knew it would eventually come to this, but he feigned shock by jumping up to his feet.

"Andryk?"

"So you know him?" The Pirate Queen ran a hand down her witcher's arm. "I came across him in An Skellig, and since then he's been nothing but useful to me."

"So you're going to pit us against each other?" Kozin asked through clenched teeth.

"No. Andryk, kneel." He did as the Pirate Queen ordered. She suddenly drew her saber and held it at his throat. "Last chance," she told Kozin, "to get out of our way." He glowered at her for a second, and then stepped out of the way. "And tell that sorcerer to step out here, too." Louder, she said, "Hear me, old man?"

She was sharper than he'd expected, Kozin had to admit. Codren stepped out compliantly. "What are you doing, boy?" the mage cried. "Snap out of it!"

"Gag him," the Pirate Queen ordered to two of her men. They rushed forward to obey. "Hands behind your head, witcher."

"As you wish, your Majesty." As Kozin rested his hands on the back of his skull, he bent two fingers on one to form Axii. His eyes focused on a pirate that stood behind the Queen.

"Good," the Pirate Queen purred. "Go on, boys—." Her command broke off when a pirate grabbed her hair and yanked her back. She hit the ground, saber still clutched in her hand. The pirates clamored with angry confusion, and the gargantuan man seized the guilty pirate by the neck.

"No!" the Pirate Queen snapped as she pushed herself off the ground. "It was that witcher! Kill him!" The hounds were let loose. Kozin drew his steel sword. Codren uttered deeply and thumped his staff, and the two men that had tried to gag him were instantly piles of sizzling ash.

They were on him in a flash. Kozin parried blades and slashed flesh. He killed a handful of men, but found himself quickly losing ground. The Queen was right. There were too many for him to face head on. Kozin dodged the sword of another pirate and fluidly stabbed him through the chest. Then, he backed away, careful to not let the mob surround him. "Codren!" he roared.

"Very well!" the mage shouted back. Kozin wrapped himself in a Quen shield just as a powerful shockwave exploded, throwing men out in a ring. Kozin saw Andryk keep the shockwave away from the Queen with his own Quen shield.

He needed to cut the head off of the snake. Kozin ran past the winded men that were struggling to get back onto their feet. Codren was already there, using magic to infiltrate Andryk's mind and attempt to undo whatever the Queen had done to him.

The Queen didn't appear to be too pleased with losing control of her pet. "Get away from him, old man!" she hissed, bringing the saber down. The mage saved himself by raising his staff and letting the blade hit the wood instead. The Pirate Queen wrenched her saber out and prepared for another strike.

Aard pulsed from Kozin's palm and knocked the woman off of her feet. Kozin stopped beside the mage, flipping his blade and holding it poised by his head. He could tell that the old mage was starting to tire.

A pirate came up from behind them, swinging an axe. Codren knocked it aside with the bottom end of his staff and brought the gnarled, knobby end down to the pirate's face. It shot out what appeared to be a strong gust of wind, which dissolved and peeled away the pirate's face to the skull like acid.

That last spell drained the old mage. The tip of the staff sunk deep into the ground as Codren caught himself from stumbling.

"Get out of here!" Kozin told him, parrying a strike from the Pirate Queen.

"But—!"

"Damn it all, you old fool! I said get out of here!" Kozin roared. The mage gave in, disappearing in a crackle of light. It was a simple, short-distance teleport, but it was enough to take him away from danger. Kozin turned back just in time to be able to evade another strike from the Queen. She was fast, dangerously fast. A speedy opponent always spelled difficulty for the strong-attacking Bear.

His next wide swing had the woman ducking his arm and rising up behind him. He felt the saber tip stab into the crack of his armor at his shoulder with expert precision. Fortunately, the blade was stopped by the thick chainmail underneath. Kozin whirled around with a swiftness his opponent didn't expect and knocked the blade aside with a wide sweep of his arm.

The Pirate Queen brought the saber up, aiming the point for his chin. Kozin parried the thin blade with ease. He saw three pirates coming to rush in and protect their queen—one on the left and two on the right. The ones from the right reached him first. Kozin deflected an attack from them, and another from the one on the left. Quickly, he struck down the pirate on the left and, as the man fell, grabbed his sword. He twirled out of the way of more swords that came at him and brought his own around to cleanly decapitate another foe. Before the head hit the ground, Kozin had thrust the extra sword through the other pirate.

He turned his attention back to the Queen, but more of her men were closing in. The witcher scowled irately. He threw his arm out and swept the air around him with a blast of Igni. The pirates who didn't jump out of the way in time were set alight. Their erratic, panicked dances and screams sent fear running through the others.

Kozin turned to the Queen. She glared back, and Kozin practically see the calculations running through her mind. Whatever she was planning, he didn't like it. The witcher quickly advanced on her, not realizing that he was setting her scheme into motion.

The Pirate Queen's demeanor changed in an instant. She backed away from him, holding the sword in front of her like a frightened novice. Suddenly, she stumbled and fell back. Kozin didn't see anything on the ground she could have tripped on. As she fell, she let out a cry. And like a whistle, that cry summoned her pet.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye but couldn't do anything in time. Andryk tackled him and sent him sprawling on the ground. Pulling his senses back together, Kozin grabbed his sword and clambered up to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't ye fuckin' touch her!" Andryk growled, an identical steel sword in his hand.

"Open your eyes! It's me!"

"I can see that, Ko. I'm not here for ye. I'm here fer me queen. Give her what she wants."

"You idiot!" Kozin barked. "What's wrong with you? Do you think you're in love? Look at your chest!" He thrust a finger towards Andryk's medallion. "She's nothing but a crooked, backstabbing witch!"

The red-haired witcher scowled. "Ye'll die fer that!" He flew forward with a flash of steel. Kozin rushed to meet him, and their swords collided with a deafening shriek. The blades trembled in a tense stalemate as equal forces pushed against each other. Kozin heard the boom of an explosion and knew that the pirates were trying to break into the sealed storehouse. Codren's enchantment wouldn't stand up for long, having only been prepared a few hours prior.

Andryk quickly changed footing, letting the edges of the blades grind together as he stepped to the side and pushed Kozin off. The black-haired witcher followed up with a blast of Aard, which cracked uselessly against a Quen shield. All the while, the explosions in the background continued.

Again the blades swung and collided in a series of blurred attacks and parries. It was a wonder sparks didn't fly from the fierce, biting metal. Each clash sent bone-rattling tremors all the way down to Kozin's shoulders, but he had long since learned to ignore the pain.

Finally, the tremors that followed the next explosion told Kozin that the storehouse had given away. The boxes were wide open for the taking, and he couldn't do anything to stop them. Andryk was keeping him right where he stood. All that witcher training was being used for the wrong reason.

"That's the last of it!" Kozin heard the Pirate Queen call out. "Back to the ship!" Before following the train of pirates returning to the dock, she told Andryk, "Finish him off and return to me."

"Aye, my queen." Andryk suddenly threw out Aard and knocked Kozin through the wall of a shop. As he lay in the crushed rubble and splintered wood, he saw the red-haired witcher come up above him, sword raised. The steel plunged down.

It sank into the debris under Kozin's arm. He looked up at his brother's face. Andryk winked. Kozin gave him a little nod. Andryk pulled the blade out and hurried out of the shop to rejoin the pirates. Kozin sat up and rubbed his aching back.


I put you under my spell

Follow me to nowhere

Say your prayer in my church

I'm gonna be your bad tonight

"Under My Spell"—Jonathan Buchanan & Michael Lister