The Witcher: Through the Worlds

by TheWitcherDom

This bards tale begins in the village of Claywitch. Where the Young Wolf, Dominik of Cintra, has accepted a contract from the local village elder. For years the young Witcher has traveled the continent, running from the ghosts of his failed past all while looking for his long lost love, Cirilla Fiona Ellen Riannon (Ciri x OC, rated M for language, violence, future sexual content)

24. Get Junior II

The Witcher: Through the Worlds

Chapter 24: Get Junior II

Narrator: After meeting the crime lord Sigi Reuven, it turns out the man was an old acquaintance of Geralt's. Sigismund Dijkstra, former head of Redanian intelligence. After fighting off an attack in Dijkstra's bathhouse from the thugs of Whoreson Junior, Dijkstra gave Geralt and Dominik leads to attempt to find the man. Dijkstra also offered them another job, in return for which the crime lord would look into my own disappearance. Deciding that it was time to split up and cover more ground, Geralt went with Dijkstra, and sent Dominik to go follow the leads on Whoreson. Before setting out however, the young Witcher visited the Golden Sturgeon to get some backup. His old friend, and Witcher of the school of the bear Faram of Undviik. Together Dominik and Faram set out, intent on trying to find the man who had information on both myself and Ciri.

The sun beat down on his neck, and he made sure to keep his coin purse tied tightly to his belt. He learned that it was more then likely smart to keep it tied tight, seeing the multiple suspicious figures walking around, hoods up and fingers hidden. However, he noticed that more so then when he first arrived, people were avoiding him. He assumed that it had something to do with the gigantic Witcher standing next to him, two swords gleaming in the sun, and massive armor clunking.

Unlike Geralt however, Faram had no reservations about people seeing him. The Bear School Witcher didn't wear a cloak with his hood up. He sauntered along the road next to him, people smartly getting out of his way as he passed. His large friend seemed to be enjoying it, smirking and chuckling lightly as people backed away from him as they passed. One brave child came up and started running alongside the large Witcher, and Faram simply gave him a wink, before the child ran off.

"So, give me the run-down mate," The larger Witcher said, "What happened after I left you in Velen?"

He went about telling Faram what had happened after they separated in Velen. About how they snuck past the Redanian blockade, and found Tamara in Oxenfurt, and then went on to learn more about Ciri from the Baron. Faram's eyes went wide when he told him the story of Ciri slaying the basilisk.

"Fucking hell mate… your woman ain't to be messed with is she," The larger man said with a joke.

Dominik laughed himself and nodded, "Yeah… she really is. Her powers… seems they've only grown. I remember when we were younger, she couldn't control it. One time she nearly blew me up."

Faram laughed, nearly avoiding knocking over a merchant as he passed, "Can't help but wonder, if this power inside the lass is so powerful… why can't she just blow the Hunt to pieces?"

"I bet she wishes she could," He said back to his friend, "But… I still don't think she controls her powers fully to this day. That's why Geralt and I need to find her. She… she's trying to do something, I don't know what yet, but it has to be something to defeat the Hunt."

Nodding sagely Faram turned to him again, "Aye, like I told you before, I heard horror stories about the Hunt while I was a lad. Still can't believe their after your woman…"

The idea was haunting him as well. It was festering in his mind the reality of the situation ever since he learned the truth from Alayna the Alp, in Claywitch. The Wild Hunt, creatures from legends, spectral, phantom riders were after Ciri. They had apparently been hunting her for the last two years, and he was completely oblivious. There was of course no way that he could've known, as Geralt always reminded him, but it didn't stop him from regretting everyday he couldn't be there for her in her greatest hours of need. It was going to change now, he was on her trail and when he found her, the Wild Hunt would have to kill him if they wanted any chance of laying their fingers on her.

Sighing he looked back to Faram, "They are… wasn't there to help protect her the last two years. They're tough fuckers, that general I fought in Velen… bastard nearly killed me. Next time though, I'll be ready, I got a plan."

Faram smirked down at him, "What plan's that?"

"I don't have mutations like you or Geralt," Dominik said, looking up at his friend, "I'm not a mage, I don't have special powers like Ciri. I'm… just a man."

The bear school Witcher laughed heartily, "Hahah, you may just be a man, but you're the toughest fucker I've ever met. I've seen you go toe to toe with leshen's, garkains, wraiths you name it. What man do you know that could kill a fucking Fiend like you did?"

The compliment made him smile, but still he shook his head, "Not many I know but… the Wild Hunt's different. Geralt says their warriors, their higher-ranking generals, all of them are more dangerous then any monster we've face. I need to somehow give myself an edge."

"Aye, I see what you mean but… what kind of edge are we talking? You want to go try and undergo mutations? I'd highly advise against that mate…" Faram said slowly, "Don't think your woman would be very happy to come back, only to see you died trying to mutate yourself."

Quickly he shook his head, his plan returning to his mind, "No, that's not what I mean. I may not be a mutated Witcher but… that doesn't mean I don't fight like one. I need something to put me over the edge, help me stand a chance so I thought…. Why not learn more?"

The two of them both stopped outside a large building. They were right near the temple watchtowers, the area in which Dijkstra told him that Whoreson's casino was operating. He could see the entrance, but Faram had stopped them both, looking down at him, arms crossed and a confused look on his face.

"I'm… not following you mate," The black-haired Witcher asked, leaning up against the stone wall.

He rolled his eyes, realizing how vague he was being and finally sighed, meeting Faram's eyes, "Faram, I want you to train me. I want to learn all five schools of Witcher combat. All five fighting styles. I know it takes years to truly master them, but I want to learn as much as I can!"

The idea seemed to stew in Faram's head. The Bear School Witcher looked down at him, and finally laughed with a smile on his face.

"HA, those are some lofty goals there mate. Of course I'll train you, my only question is, how the hell do you plan on mastering the other schools. Witchers are getting rare enough as it is," Faram asked him.

A small smile came to his face, the sun casting his shadow over the ground for once making him seem taller then the bear school Witcher.

"Already got an idea for that. Do you remember George? That Witcher from the School of the Griffin? We did the job on that Bruxa in the village with him," He asked the larger man.

Faram scoffed and nodded, "Ha, funny you mention him. I just saw him in Oxenfurt a couple days ago. Went there for a pack of drowners in the sewers, saw him there for a few moments."

A large opened mouthed smile came to his face. In his journey so far, he felt that luck had rarely smiled down on him. Ciri seemed to be just a step out of his reach with every lead that he received on her. He learned that she had showed up in Novigrad quite literally only a few days after he had been there. The more he heard of what Ciri had been actually doing the last eight years from Geralt, he learned more and more that he had been even closer then he thought, and only slightly missed her on multiple occasions.

However, a new small flicker of hope built up in the back of his head. The universe, destiny, whatever gods were out there seemed to finally throw some luck his way. George of Toussaint was only in Oxenfurt, Faram was across from him now. Those were two friends of his, two styles of fighting he could learn. His idea had seemed slightly far fetched at first, but now it seemed that it could truly be a reality. Being able to seamlessly switch between styles of fighting mid-battle could truly help him. Geralt was the best teacher he could ask for, but learning new moves, combos and techniques could truly put him over the edge.

Perhaps it could even make him strong enough to stand up to the Wild Hunt.

"This is perfect! When I have some free time I'll have to ride there, see if I can find him," He said with a smile, looking back to Faram, "You'll really train me? I know some Witchers are protective of their schools secrets."

Faram waved it off, "Bah fuck that. Normally yes, but you're my friend, my best-friend. Training you is the least I can do for all the times you've saved me. If you think it'll help you save your Ciri, then I'll do whatever I can for you."

A smile crossed his face and his heart warmed. He could recall very few times in his life that he had a friend such as Faram. Growing up in Cintra, until he met Ciri he didn't have many true friends. Merchants, craftsmen and his neighbors all knew him simply as 'Gregory and Sofia's boy'. He was shy, reserved, and couldn't think of anyone that counted him among their close friends. Ciri had changed him for the better, helped him find his inner confidence, learn how to express himself more, it was parts of the reason he loved her.

So that day, seeing that he had someone who counted him as a best friend, was trusting his secrets too, it warmed his heart. It also lit the spark of hope inside of him to an even greater heights. He had someone who he knew he could rely on when the time came to fight by his side. To fight to protect Ciri.

"Thanks Faram… for everything," He said, looking up and meeting his eyes again.

Faram laughed and waved his hands, "Ha think nothing of it mate. Training can wait though… we got some more business to handle."

He nodded in agreement and they both peaked their heads around the corner to look at the entrance to the casino again. Two bouncers stood posted on the outside, dressed in the clown attire that he knew Whoreson's men always wore. The idiots weren't wearing any armor, Faram and he could easily cut their way through them both and head inside with ease. However, he didn't think that slaughtering two guards so close to the temple watchtower would go over very well. He knew that he was more than likely going to have to fight but doing it on the inside would be more beneficial.

"Two guards on the outside… think we'll get lucky and they'll let us in," He said sarcastically to Faram beside him.

The Bear School Witcher scoffed and shook his head, "Doubt it, I tried to get in myself once. Fuckers said it was invitation only. Got any ideas? We could probably just punch our way in there."

"No, we can't cause a scene… but I have an idea," he said slowly, looking down at his hands, "How's your Axii?"

Faram shrugged, "About as good as any, what about you? I remember you were just learning them last time I saw you."

Dom shrugged his shoulders as well, "I guess we'll find out. Come on, I'd prefer to at least try and be discreet."

Faram nodded in understanding and the two of them both emerged from the alley. Careful not to bump into any townsfolk they made their way to the entrance down the street. On the outside the casino seemed like nothing particularly special. It was a normal whitewashed building with what looked to be three floors. The staircase to enter went down, and the two guards saw them as soon as they approached.

"Greetings gents," He said in a friendly tone as soon as he approached, "How're the cards flowing today?"

Faram came up behind him with his arms crossed. He quickly examined the two men in front of him. Neither wore real armor, only light cloth and carried blades at their side. Both had on the clown masks, and the one on the left right away held his hands out towards him.

"Invitation only, you're shit out of luck," The one said to them both.

"Yeah, so now kindly fuck off," The other said as soon as his friend had finished.

He felt his annoyance rise as he turned to Faram. Faram quickly nodded, and Dominik turned back to both of the guards. He put on another fake smile and held out his hands. Moving his fingers in the appropriate order, he put all of his energy into his hands, trying to speak the words as convincingly as he could.

"I think you're going to let the two of us in anyway," He strained out, his fingers pointed towards the first man.

Faram quickly came up next to him, repeating the same hand movement, "And you're going to wish us luck on the way in."

He felt his knees wobble for a moment before he let out a deep breath. Looking up, for a horrible moment he thought that his sign had failed. The guards both looked confused for a moment, before small white flickers popped up around their heads. The first guard who he had used the sign on pointed towards the doors.

"By all means, both of you may head right in," The man said.

"And luck be with you at the tables," The second one who Faram had controlled said in a dreamy voice.

A feeling of pride washed up inside him, as he looked to Faram. His friend smirked and gestured towards the door, before both of them walked through.

The smell was the first thing he noticed when he walked into the casino. It almost made him gag from the rancid smell of alcohol and fisstech. The ground floor had a bar, and a few patrons scattered about all sitting with drinks in hand. Almost all of them looked wealthy, silk clothes and large caps were everywhere. In one alcove off to the left he could see a man with a bag of what he knew to be fisstech, stuffing the powder up into his gums. From how Dijkstra had described the place, he was expecting more sophistication. However, he quickly remembered who the owner was, and what he had heard. Bouncers were everywhere on the ground floor, drinking, taking fisstech or arguing with the wealthier patrons. All were armed with swords, axes and blackjacks.

"Doesn't seem like the tables are down here," Faram said to him as they both carefully walked through the center of the ground floor.

The guests to his surprise didn't take much notice to either of them. Faram had attracted so much attention outside, that he thought as soon as they walked in it would be more then suspicious. However, all the guests were all too enraptured by their drugs or drinks. The bartender however did meet his eyes as they passed by, and he saw the man whisper a word to a bouncer next to him. He knew they wouldn't have much time, and the slightest indication they weren't there for cards would blow any cover they had.

The fire warmed his bones even more, as he slowly walked up towards the second floor, Faram closely behind him. The second floor also had the smell of drinks and drugs, however he tried his best to hide his disgust with a confident face. Several games of gwent were going on between what seemed to be more well-off townsmen and merchants. He looked over and saw only a few of them were open, with men sitting opposite of them, their heads down in stacks of gwent cards along with a mug.

"Alright, gotta find some information on Whoreson right? Any ideas," Faram said as they both waited at the top of the stairs.

A small idea formed at the base of his brain. If he could avoid it, he wanted to figure out what he could about Whoreson without causing any commotion. It was unlikely he knew, but if he could it would be preferable. He also didn't want Whoreson to be tipped off that he was looking for him. When he did find the man, it wasn't going to end well for him. Junior had apparently chased Dandelion and presumably Ciri, he knew what happened to them, and he was going to find out.

But first, he was going to need some more luck, this time with his cards.

"I got an idea, follow me," He said to Faram, gesturing for his friend to follow.

The Bear School Witcher nodded and followed. He made his way to the closest open table he could find; a seat was open across from a man wearing a yellow and purple outfit. A loud, extravagant hat was on his head, a white feather sticking out the top. He was shuffling gwent cards in front of him, and he recognized the Nilfgaardean empire deck right away.

He had always preferred the Northern Realms himself. The combination of great hero cards and fantastic siege weapons had always drawn him too it, along with the fact he recognized most of the characters, and would never touch anything with Nilfgaard in the name. It took all the power he had not to mention to Keira Metz when he met her that he owned her gwent card. Faram gave him an odd look, but he wasn't deterred, as he sat down across from the patron.

"Greetings," He said in a friendly tone, leaning one arm against the table, "Cards going good for you today?"

The gruff man looked up at him, and Dominik could smell the stench of fisstech, and vodka mixed together coming from the man. The smell was almost overpowering but he managed to keep a straight face.

"Huh? Who the ploughin hell are you," He said with a slight slur, "Never see either of you here before."

He fake laughed lightly and met the mans beady brown eyes, "First time here. I'm loving the place so far, looking to play my first round now."

"Uh… Dom, mate, are you sure-," Faram started from behind him, sounding nervous.

The drunken man sitting across from him cut the Bear School Witcher off, "HA, under normal occasions I'd love to beat the ploughin shit outta you," the man started, taking a long drink from a mug before continuing, "But fortunately for you, unfortunately for me, that cheating scoundrel Axel just tapped me out… bastard cheated he had to I know it."

A small smirk crossed Dominik's face as he met the mans eyes, pulling the purse of coins from his belt, "It's your lucky day then. Play me here, I'll put up this sack of coins. You win you keep it, but if I win… you answer some questions for me," He said, feeling his confidence rise.

"Dom mate, I really don't think you should-." Faram started again from behind him.

"I got this," he said turning his head back to the Bear School Witcher. Faram simply sighed and crossed his arms looking over the gwent table.

He nodded to his friend and turned back to the drunk across from him, who laughed, "HAH, you're mistake boy. I'm going to wipe the ploughin floor with you."

A smirk crossed his face, as he reached into his bag to pull out his cards. He could see the man clearly frequented the establishment, and hopefully knew at least something about Whoreson. All he had to do was hope for luck with the cards.

Even if he didn't, he was confident in his abilities, and soon he'd have the information they needed.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I knew I should've just punched our way in here…" Faram said with an annoyed eye roll next to him.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," He yelled in exasperation, standing up and slamming his cards on the table.

He had been thoroughly trounced by the drunken man across from him within two rounds. The drunk across from him laughed and scooped up the coin purse that Dominik had left on the table and slowly started pouring his crowns out onto the table. He thought it had been a smart idea to use his leader card in the first round, wasting it and still losing. Then in the second round he only had three cards left, two of which were weather cards. Faram sighed loudly and he shot a death stare over at the Bear School Witcher who then proceeded to let out a small laugh.

"Ploughin hell, never seen such a horrible gwent player in me life. Where'd you get those cards boy? Absolutely rubbish," The man laughed, combing his way through all of Dom's crowns.

Feeling his embarrassment and anger rise he looked over to Faram, who was now looking at him, his eyes asking for permission.

Sighing Dominik met his friends eyes and gestured his head over towards the man, "Faram."

Faram laughed one more time before a smile came to his face. The Bear School Witcher reached over, grabbing the man in his massive arms and slamming him down back onto his seat. The drunken man's newly acquired coin flew onto the floor, as he thrashed wildly, unable to get out of Faram's grip.

"Listen here little man," Faram said in a dark tone, pinning the drunken lout to the chair, "Tell us where we can find the owner of this fine establishment and I won't rip your arms off."

The man to his credit, while still seeming to be terrified, didn't say anything about Junior. Instead he thrashed wildly and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"GUARDS, GUARDS, WE HAVE ANOTHER MOLE," The drunk shouted, before Faram quickly silenced him with a punch.

All around them footsteps banged throughout the casino. He could see men drawing swords on the same floor as them, and other running up from below. Sighing in annoyance he quickly looked up to see one of the other card players charging at him a blackjack in hand. Quickly he sidestepped, grabbing the mans arm and tossing him towards Faram, who knocked the man clean out cold with an uppercut, before the larger Witcher drew his steel sword. The Bear School Witcher shot his hands out and the Aard sign flew past Dominik's head and smashed another man that had been charging backwards.

Quickly he drew his blade as well, as Faram closed ranked around him, the large second floor of the casino quickly flooding with more patrons, and bouncers from the ground floor below.

"You just HAD to play gwent didn't you," Faram complained, as all the assailants began to circle to the two Witchers.

"I thought I could win," He quickly yelled back, leveling his sword towards the bouncers.

He couldn't see his friend, but he was sure that Faram rolled his eyes, "When are you going to realize you're horrible at gwent!"

"When I actually am," He argued back.

The bouncers seemed to have heard enough, because soon they charged. He fought back to back with Faram, twirling his sword into a reverse grip, just in time to knock away one mans strike. He spun downwards and around the man after this, slicing across his back and sending him to the ground. Quickly he turned again, parrying another series of strikes from two more clown men who had come for him. He parried left towards one man, then right from another, before pirouetting around the man on his right, and slicing upwards to cut clean through his arms. The one man wailed and the second from the left then lashed out again, trying to swing downwards towards his head. He ducked, got under the man and slipped him over his shoulder into the tables.

"COME ON WHORESONS," He heard Faram yell next to him.

He looked over and saw the Bear School Witcher in action for a moment. Rooted to his spot, he deflected every strike that came his way, his blade moving in perfectly precise motion. He threw a parry upwards towards one man, before quickly twirling his blade around, stabbing it through one who had been trying to attack from behind, before pulling it out of the man, spinning it back around and slicing through the stomach of the first man.

The movements had absolutely amazed him. Faram had barely moved at all but was managing to move his blade with such precision, staying grounded to his spot, parrying every blow. It was a stark contrast to the style of fighting he used, with much more spins and pirouettes. He was quickly reminded he was in the middle of a fight when he heard more footsteps approaching from above. Whirling around he saw two more men come down from the third floor, blades at the ready.

He decided to go on the offensive himself. Charging towards the two clown men with his blade twirled to a reverse grip again. The one that was on the left attacked him first, quickly he side-stepped, knocking the mans blade towards the ground, before using his continued momentum to spin behind him, slashing the blade upwards, killing his opponent instantly. He could see the last man next to him that had been on the right swing at him from behind. He ducked and rolled out of the way, coming up and firing his hand outwards. The Aard sign shot from his hands and sent the man flying backwards. The man flew backwards right into the blade of Faram, who cut through the man with a precise strike.

A river of blood now ran trough the casino on both floors. Bouncers, and patrons alike lay dead. Breathing heavily, he sheathed his blade back behind his back and looked around at the corpses that lay out before them all.

"Fucking hell… whatever Whoreson's hiding, his men must really not want us figuring out," he said, looking over to Faram, who stepped over a body before coming to join him.

Nodding in agreement his friend turned to him, "Aye he must…. We should search the place, saw when you were losing that round of gwent, guards were particularly careful not to let anyone up to the third floor."

"Guess we're heading up then… come on, let's see what the bastards hiding," He said, turning towards the staircase the final two men had come from.

Any information they received now would be good information. Carefully he made his way up towards the third floor. He looked down and was relieved to see no nicks on his armor, for the few days previous he was still trying to break it in, and now he felt it had finally adjusted to fit him even better. His blade clattered in its sheath as he finally made it to the top of the steps. Quickly he scanned around, making sure that no other men were hiding.

However, the third floor was significantly smaller then the previous ones. It only had one small corridor with rooms on the left and right, which he assumed was for storage. It would be the perfect place to hide secret correspondence. Faram came up next to him, and he gestured for the larger man to check the rooms on the left. Quickly his friend nodded and went about searching, while he went to the rooms on the right.

Carefully he turned the knob for one door, walking through it to reveal a room full of trunks for storage. He rummaged through a few, only finding old documents with nothing of importance on them. Despite not finding anything to aid his search, he did manage to loot a healthy amount of coin to replace the pouch that he had lost at the tables with his stupid plan.

He sighed in agitation however, finding absolutely no sign of anything that could point them to Whoreson. The more time that he wasted going through and finding nothing, was more time that Dandelion and possibly Ciri could be in danger. He felt the swallow pendant coldly bounce against his neck along with his medallion. The bard and Ciri were both counting on Geralt and he now, and he wasn't about to let them down.

"Aye Dominik, you better come and see this mate," He heard Faram yell from the other room.

Feeling the optimism rise back up in him again, he ran back towards where Faram's voice had come from. He burst into the door across the hall, and saw his friends kneeling to one knee on the ground. There was blood splattered on the floor in front of the chair in the smaller room. A doppler was sitting in the seat, his hands tied together in front of him, both his legs tied to the chair, preventing him from moving. Faram turned back to him and gestured with one thumb towards the doppler.

"Our friend here tells me he's a mole for the King of Beggars, figured you'd wanna ask him a few questions," Faram told him.

The doppler slowly looked up at him, his nose was bloody, and he had a cut right between his eyes. Blood trickled down his face, and he looked at Dominik with pleading eyes.

"Man's right… I'll tell you anything you need, just please… please let me out of here," The doppler pleaded.

He nodded to the doppler and spoke in a soft tone, not wanting to scare the poor man any further, "We will but first tell me… you're one of the King of Beggars moles, I'm looking for Whoreson, did you learn anything while you were here?"

Quickly the doppler nodded, "Aye, I didn't learn the logistics of it but… Whoreson is working hand in glove with the Redanian's, right in Radovid's pocket."

He scoffed, "Fucking moron, rather take my chances with the 'Big Four' then Radovid, man's insane."

The doppler scoffed as well, nodding his head, "That's what I was thinking. Makes sense now why he's been in hiding, Redanian's probably have him under lock and key."

Despite the situation he breathed a relieved sigh. He had learned something, and something valuable at that. The attack on Dijkstra's bathhouse now made sense. Radovid was trying to pry control of Novigrad away from the 'Big Four' in preparation for an occupation. He was making Whoreson do his dirty work, and in thanks had hidden the man away. That meant that there was no way that Junior was currently on Novigrad, Radovid may have been insane, but he wasn't stupid. He needed Junior at the moment, so he would hide him somewhere he deemed safe, somewhere close.

Radovid he learned was camped out on a ship in Oxenfurt, and the pieces finally clicked together.

A smile crossed his face as he looked at the doppler, "Thanks… one more question. Do you know another doppler named Dudu?"

The doppler again quickly nodded, "Aye I do, poor mans in hiding now. Haven't talked to him in some time. Last I did, he was looking awfully nervous, asked him what was wrong, let slip that he was just asked to join on an important job."

He had only asked out of curiosity, hoping that his old doppler friend was safe. However, when he heard what the doppler in front of him said, the gears in his head began to turn again.

"Did he tell you anything else about this job," He asked the doppler quickly.

The small man in the chair shrugged, "No details, kept them tight lipped. Asked him why he bothered taking it if it bothered him so much. All he said was he had to because some close old friends of his needed help."

"Did he tell you there names," He asked quickly, feeling a tingling sensation run down his spine.

The doppler shook his head, his eyes wide and full of worry after hearing his tone, "No he didn't… just that it was important he helped them…. Can… can I go now? My legs are starting to lose feeling."

He sighed, but quickly pulled his silver dagger from his belt, and cut the ropes constraining the doppler. Slowly, and being sure to stretch out his muscles, the doppler took a few shaky steps away before turning back to the two Witchers.

"I… I think I'll lay low for a little while…. Thank you Witchers," He said shakily, before leaving the room, his smaller feet leaving blood prints in his wake.

A new puzzle slowly took form in the base of his head. The close friends Dudu had been helping, absolutely had to be Dandelion and Ciri. If his old doppler friend had helped the two of them with the heist they planned, it would make sense as to why the doppler was now in hiding. It was another person who may know what happened to Ciri after the events of the heist itself. Slowly he stood up with a shaky breath, looking down at the swallow tattoo and the names he saw on his inner forearm.

"Alright, who's Dudu? And why were you asking after him," Faram asked, standing up next to him.

He scoffed with a laugh looking over to the larger Witcher, "Dudu's a merchant, a doppler, old friend of Geralt and I's…. He's also close friends with Ciri and Dandelion. It had to be him that helped them with the heist!"

"Heist, what heist," Faram asked again, looking at him confused.

With a shock he realized he hadn't explained the full situation to Faram. He turned over to his friend and laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head, "Sorry mate, forgot to tell you some stuff, got caught up talking about training."

The Bear School Witcher shook his head, shaking it off, "No worries mate, you can fill me in on the way to the arena. You still want to head there? We know that bastard Whoreson is working with the Redanian's, but we could figure out where they're hiding him."

A smirked crossed his face as he looked out the window. The sun was slowly starting to set out over Novigrad, the nighttime drawing near. He turned over to Faram and shook his head.

"No need anymore, I think I figured out where they're hiding him. Besides, Geralt's probably finished up with his business, due to meet back with him soon," he said, meeting his friends yellow Witcher eyes, "I'm assuming you'll need somewhere other than the Sturgeon to stay now?"

Faram tossed his head back and laughed, "Bahah, you can say that again."

He nodded to the larger man and gestured for him to follow, "You can come with me. Friends of mine just inherited the Rosemary and Thyme, they'll set you up there. It's where Geralt and I are going to be staying."

A smile crossed the larger Witchers face as he came up next to him, "Appreciate it mate. So, where do you think the bastards got Whoreson at?"

A smirked crossed his face again as he walked from the room, "Radovid wouldn't be stupid enough to set him up in Novigrad where the other members of the big four could get him. No… he's got Whoreson held up in Oxenfurt."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The moon had just risen over the city when Faram and he arrived back at the Rosemary and Thyme. A few soaked and drunk patrons occupied some tables, so Zoltan was more than happy to see them both when they arrived. After introducing Faram, the dwarf and he quickly got into a detailed conversation about the distinct differences between the types of ale found across the continent. After a detailed discussion, Dominik had learned more about the differences between ales in the northern kingdoms then he ever thought he would need. Nonetheless he was glad to see that the two of his friends had seemed to get on so well so fast.

After the ale discussion, Zoltan had given the two of them both rooms on the second floor of the inn. Faram's room had been placed across the hall from his on the left, while he took one on the right. The room was the perfect size for one or two people. A bed with white sheets and a blanket was in the left corner, along with a nightstand next to it, a dresser was also settled across from the bed itself. A small table with two chairs and a candle were set out in the corner near the door, as soon as he entered, he unstrapped his blade and leaned it up against the chair.

He took off his gloves, and the top half of his armor until he was only wearing the white cotton shirt that was normally under his armor, along with his trousers and boots. Falling into the bed he gave out a loud sigh, looking up at the ceiling, feeling his head spin. Geralt still had not come back, so for the first time in what felt like ages, he had a few moments to simply lay in his bed and reflect.

Everything about his life had been changed in only a matter of weeks. For two years he wondered, thinking that he was possibly the last remaining member of his family. Geralt and Yennefer were both dead, Ciri was out of his reach. The spark of hope that he may someday find her was all but gone, he never stopped looking, and he never would, but during that time a part of him believed that all would be for naught.

Destiny had then brought him to Claywitch. It had sent him signs during his time there, things reminded him of her, then of course Alayna the Alp, had revealed that Ciri indeed was alive, and that she was running from the Wild Hunt. The temptation that night had been so high, and he thought about it to that moment. He didn't know if Alayna had been lying to him, but when she offered to open him a portal right to where Ciri was… he almost accepted. For so long he had been alone, and for so long he had looked, and he could have been with her in that moment.

However, he knew that in the end Ciri wouldn't want him to compromise who he was to find her. It seemed that destiny rewarded him for resisting the temptation that night when Yennefer saved him. His reward for resisting, was the knowledge that Yennefer and Geralt were indeed both still alive. Also, that they were going to help him search for Ciri, she was back on the continent, and he could reunite with her yet again, after searching for eight years, and being alone for most of them.

He looked up at the ceiling and pulled the pendant out from under his shirt. Carefully he examined the silver from the light of the moon, and the candle that was lit in the corner. The silver gleamed, shining from the moonlight. A pleasant breeze ran through the slightly cracked window and he let out a relaxing breath.

"Everything will be alright… I'll make sure of it," He said, before slowly placing the swallow back down under his shirt.

Everything will be alright. I'll see you soon I promise. I love you.

The last words she said to him, haunted him to that day. Nothing ended up turning out alright, he didn't see her soon. He still loved her, that was what he held onto. No amount of nights with Freya during his recovery in Ellander, no amount of time had changed that. Sighing again, he swung his legs back out the side of the bed and looked down now at the tattoo on his inner forearm.

Gently he ran his hand across the names again, Ciri, Triss, Yennefer, and Geralt… his family. He had gotten something that very few people ever got in life. A third chance. His first chance he failed, his mother, father, Bella had all died. He got a second chance after this, but Geralt, Yennefer, and for the longest time he thought Ciri were all gone. This time however, he wasn't going to fail again.

He was going to be strong enough.

"Not again… Eredin and the Hunt… they messed with the wrong Witcher," He hissed, looking back up at the moon through his window.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at his door. Quickly, he rolled down his arms sleeve and ran a hand through his hair to try and tame it. He gave up and opened the door, only to see Faram there, smiling at him.

"So mate are you ready," His friend said with a smirk on his face.

"Ready for what," He asked the larger Witcher curiously.

Faram kept his smirk and looked down at him with his arms crossed, "Well Geralt still hasn't come back yet. And well… you did say you wanted to train in Bear School techniques…right?"

A smirk came to his face as well, and a warm feeling welled up inside his gut. He felt the swallow tremble around his neck, as he reached over to grab his blade from the table.

He met the Bear School Witchers eyes with a smirk, "You bet I do… come on, let's get training."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Now, the School of the Bear has a much more defensive style of fighting then the School of the Wolf," Faram started, standing across from him in the night.

He had put his armor back on, slightly upset that he had only gotten to spend a few minutes with it off, however he was eager to start with Faram. They had a few sparring matches, Faram had wanted for him to see what the School of the Bears style was all about. He had noticed right away. Faram's parries and side-steps were much more precise and devastating then anyone else he had fought. The Bear School Witcher waited for the perfect opportunity to strike, and most of the time it had been when he himself had gotten sloppy with his attacks.

The back green of the Rosemary and Thyme was lit with the fire burning from the wall scones, and the light of the moon. The two Witchers had plenty of room to spar, but Faram now after a few matches took the time to go into more detail.

"I've noticed," Dominik started after Faram had finished, "You rarely threw out strikes yourself, and if you did, they were at the perfect moments."

Faram smiled with satisfaction and hefted his steel sword to rest on his shoulder.

"Aye you're right. You've been trained at the School of the Wolf your whole life. That style has a lot of spins, pirouettes and feints. School of the Bear has those too, however we use ours in a much more defensive manner," His friend carefully explained, adjusting his feet firmly shoulder width apart on the ground, "The Bear School is all about wearing down your opponent, precise parries and dodges, this way you conserve your stamina and can deliver crushing blows at the perfect moment."

The style sounded appealing and was perfect for someone larger like Faram. His School of the Wolf training had showed him how to lash out, with quick strikes, faints and spins. For someone slightly smaller and leaner like himself the style was very effective. However, he knew that learning the defensive Bear School style, would give him a wider range of moves and styles to use against different opponents.

Nodding in understanding, he took in a deep breath and met Faram's eyes again, "Might be a little bit harder for me, delivering those crushing blows at my size."

Faram laughed and shook his head, "You're deceptively strong mate, no worries. Besides, part of our mutations at the School of the Bear puts an even bigger emphasis on building our strength. Still though, with the proper technique it can work for anyone."

"Alright," he said, taking in a relaxing breath, "Let's get started."

His friend nodded across from him again, "Now remember this first mate. Don't change up how you fight completely. You're a tough fucker to take down as is, use whatever style you think is best for your current opponent. For example, back at the casino, we were indoors, tighter, more enclosed, perfect for the more defensive, grounded Bear School style, see where I'm coming from?"

The point his friend made was perfectly sensible. In the casino earlier, he had easily been able to dispatch the henchmen and patrons, however it could have been even easier for him. The tighter enclosed spaces had made it harder for him to spin and lunge out. While he was trying to avoid swords by rolling, Faram had stood his ground, parrying away every strike that had come his way, all the parries he threw were with perfect precision and knocked others off balance.

He could have had a much easier time if he had done the same. A few other situations came to mind where a much more grounded and defensive fighting style would have come in handy. Being able to seamlessly switch between styles of fighting, depending on his opponent and environment would be an extremely useful skill to have. It was something that he thought could tip the scales for him, that could be his edge in battle.

Nodding he readied himself in a stance again, leveling his blade and spreading his legs, "Okay… let's see how this goes."

Faram smiled and nodded, "Good, now the most important thing to remember is this… you must ground yourself. That may be hard for you to do, since you're used to lunging out, moving constantly. Do the same, move to the left and right to better throw parries, or spin to dodge but ground yourself, don't go lunging out like you normally do. Stay on the balls of your feet, but keep your position, I'm going to come at you. Keep throwing your parries, make them strong, put your weight into them, but don't lunge! Wait till you see the perfect opportunity, and then strike back!"

So, the two of them went about practicing. He did exactly what the Bear School Witcher had instructed, he spread his feet, leaning on the balls of them, ready to lash out as soon as the moment was right. However, when the first few strikes came, he was knocked off balance, and Faram was able to easily take him to the ground. Faram had told him the first few times were because he wasn't truly grounding himself. He wasn't focusing on keeping a strong stance, he was still bouncing on his toes, wanting to lash out again. However, when he did do this, Faram had been ready, and knocked him to the ground.

"You're not putting your full strength into your parries! When you throw them, you're trying to move it into a spin like you normally do, but that's not what we're practicing," Faram scolded and Dominik picked himself up off the ground again, "I know you're used to constantly moving, but if you want to master the School of the Bear, you need to ground yourself! Lash out when you see the perfect opportunity."

"Okay… let's try this again," He muttered, raising his blade again.

Sweat was trickling down his brow, his hair was becoming even more unruly, as he kept saying the words in his head. Ground yourself, ground yourself. He repeated the words to himself as Faram came at him again. His friend lashed out with strikes from the left and right, he focused on making the movement with his blade as precise as possible, putting every bit of his strength into the strikes. He made sure to stay on the balls of his feet, only side-stepping and moving when necessary. Faram lashed out from the right, he threw a parry, putting every bit of his strength into it. The parry sent Faram off balance, and his eyes went wide, he went to go strike again, but managed to hold himself back.

It turned out to be a good decision because Faram quickly recovered, spinning around and going to a strike to his back. Quickly, without enough time to turn around, he raised up his blade behind his back and caught Faram's sword on his. Faram tried to power through his block, and his eyes widened at the perfect opportunity. He shuffled his feet forward and spun, whirling his blade around and stopping it just inches from Faram's neck. His friend slowly turned his head to him, his reflection appearing in Dom's blade.

The Bear School Witcher scoffed with a smile on his face. Dominik retracted his blade and did the same. He finally had gotten the upper hand on Faram using the proper tactics. He knew of course his friend hadn't been fighting at 100%, taking it easier on him for the sake of him getting the proper movement down.

Faram got up with a laugh, slowly clapping for him, "Hahah, way to go mate! That was good, you grounded yourself and waited for the perfect opportunity."

He scoffed and shook his head at his friend, "Still got a long way to go."

Faram rolled his eyes but kept a smile on his face, "I bet you thought the same thing when you started training at Kaer Morhen. It'll come mate, I'll keep at it with you day and night."

Faram held out his massive, armored hand and Dominik took it with a firm shake. He smiled up at his friend and sheathed his blade. He was just about to suggest they head in for drinks when he heard footsteps behind them.

"Well, that was some display," Geralt said, coming into the light from the streets.

He turned and breathed a sigh of relief, smiling over at his adoptive father, "Geralt you're back, thank god. What kept you for so long?"

Faram's eyes went wide at the sight of Geralt, and he couldn't help but laugh at his friend. His adoptive father smiled and walked up towards the two of them, looking first up at Faram.

"Good to see you again Faram," The older Witcher said, shaking the Bear School Witchers hand.

Faram shook Geralt's hand and bowed his head, "And you wolf. The honor is mine. I can tell you two need a moment to talk, I'll be inside. Zoltan's got a keg of Redanian lager just waiting to be popped," The Bear School Witcher said excitedly.

He rolled his eyes at his friend but saw Geralt slightly smirk with satisfaction before looking over to him, "Did a little perusing in Novigrad after talking with Dijkstra, refilled our ingredients, sharpened my swords. How'd it go following the leads? Figure out anything about Whoreson?"

All of the information he learned earlier in the day flooded to his mind at once. He looked up and met Geralt's yellow eyes, "Well for one, Whoreson is working hand in hand with the Redanians. Radovid supports him, explains why he's attacking the big four, and why nobody can find him."

Geralt rubbed his white beard wonderingly before looking back to him, "I wonder if Dijkstra knows. Don't really trust him, but he could be our best lead. Like I said, he was head of Redanian intelligence, he may still be in contact with someone."

He rolled his eyes at the prospect, but looked back to Geralt, "Speaking of Dijkstra, what did he want from us?"

Geralt let out a small scoff, but smiled, "Would you believe it? He wants us to track down the treasure Dandelion and Ciri stole out of his vault."

He scoffed himself, not believing his luck, "That's perfect. If we investigate the break in, it could lead us to them. Speaking of the break in… I did learn one other thing, it's about Dudu."

"Dudu, what about him," The older Witcher asked.

A smile came to his face, as he finally sheathed his sword from the training session.

"We got the information on Whoreson from a doppler we rescued at the Casino. Said he was one of the King of Beggar's moles," He started explaining, "I was just curious if he knew Dudu, so I asked him. He told me Dudu is in hiding, and the last time he saw him, Dudu seemed nervous because he was about to pull a job with 'two close friends of his'. It has to be Dandelion and Ciri!"

Geralt seemed in shock for a moment, digesting the information he heard. After a few moments of thinking, a look of realization finally passed on his face.

"Well, well, well that explains something I was wondering perfectly," Geralt said, looking at him with his arms crossed.

"I was just about to ask, how far did you get investigating the break in," He asked the white-haired Witcher, while readjusting the strap for his sword.

Geralt looked up and met his eyes again, "Well for starters, Ciri and Dandelion blew an entire whole into Dijkstra's vault from the sewers. That explained the dream you saw. Found the bottom of a bomb part with runes on it. Smelled like wyvern oil, caramel, and sugar."

The combination of ingredients almost made him laugh, "Ha, I'd like to say Uncle Vesemir taught me potions and bombs pretty well, but there had to be something else. Wyvern oil yeah but… sugar?"

"That's the same thing I thought, but that's not really important, I got an even better lead," The older Witcher started, "The bomb they used had to have been flushed down one of the pools. Managed to find the right one. Dijkstra checked the log for who used it that day. One name was Margrave Henkel."

"So we need to go find this Henkel guy," He said right away, crossing his own arms as well.

Geralt shook his head, "That's the problem. Margrave Henkel's dead. Dijkstra said he died months ago. I was wondering how it was possible but after what you just told me…"

"It was Dudu," He said, finally putting the pieces together, "Ciri and Dandelion must have convinced him to help. So… what do we do now? What's our next move?"

Geralt looked out over the darkened streets of Novigrad, only lit by the torches and the full moon, before turning back to him, "Dijkstra asked me to go check Henkel's house. Said it's right off Hierarch Square. If they were using the mans name, they probably used his house as a base. We should go check it out, you ready to head out now?"

Breathing a sigh of relief he nodded, "Of course. Always ready, come on. Hopefully they left behind some sign."

A/N: Here we go everybody, Novirgad is in full swing! I personally LOVE this part of the game. Velen kind of dragged on a bit for me, but when we get here to Novigrad is when I personally think they game started to become fantastic. I also know that Velen was kind of shot for shot, not much changed, but that's because honestly there wasn't really anything different that could have happened. Dominik was still weaker, not as confident, not ready to go out and make changes on his own. Now however in Novigrad… things are going to change a bit. I got tons of adventures planned, and we're going to learn even more about Dom's past.

Expect a few quick updates after this one, seeing as I LOVE this part of the game so much. Then once we get to Skellige, I know I'm going to tear through that as well. Then as soon as we finally rescue Ciri, oh boy I may get the book done in a week xD

When she finally gets into the picture during the end game is where TONS of things are going to change. Dominik won't sit by and let people use her, but first he has to get to her! And I have tons of great moments planned still before he does get to her. So stay tuned.

So, how do you all think the upcoming raid on the Witch Hunter barracks will go? How will Dominik fair with his new Bear School style knowledge? What did you guys think of the training itself, and the development we've seen so far from Dominik?

Thank you all so much, your support and reviews always mean the world. I'll see you all next time!

Special thanks to users Anakins Hyper, BlackWatcher1234, Memnon45, and Kirijo Senpai for your continued reviews and messages of support! Also thank you to everyone else who's reviewed and sent message as well, I appreciate you all and hope you continue to love what I'm putting out! See you all next time.