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)

25. Count Reuven's Treasure

The Witcher: Through the Worlds

Chapter 25: Count Reuven's Treasure

Narrator: After investigating the leads to Whoreson Junior's location with Faram, Dominik discovered that the crime lord was working with King Radovid and the Redanians. Also while searching he learned that he and Ciri's old friend Dudu had assisted the young woman and myself in our daring heist of Sigi Reuven's vault. After cross examining his leads with Geralt, the two witchers headed to the house of the deceased Margrave Henkel, the man Dudu had impersonated, hoping to find leads as to where Ciri and I had gone.

The sun had retired for the day, and all honest folk had abandoned the streets of Novigrad. It was a stark contrast to what he had become used to seeing in the city. For the first time Geralt was walking through the town with his hood down, not as worried about people turning him in at that hour. The moon was high and full that night, as a cold breeze shot through the empty streets. It flew through his untidy brown hair, the straps on his armor flew up and down as he clunked through the streets behind Geralt. Margrave Henkel according to Geralt had died almost half a year ago in a brothel but the funeral had been hushed up, making the man the perfect person for Dudu to impersonate. It was only a matter of finding the doppler now, if they found him, perhaps they could figure out what happened with Ciri and Dandelion.

The house was right off Hierarch Square, but looked nothing like the other, wealthier houses on the block. The old Margrave's house was run down, paint chipping off the side of the buildings, the shingles from the roof falling over, the window panels broken and knocked off.

"Certainly doesn't look like a Margrave lives here…" He said to Geralt as they both stood outside.

His adoptive father nodded in agreement, taking another step closer to the front door, "Yeah… but that would also make it the perfect place to plan a heist."

Dominik was about to speak up again, but before he did Geralt fired his hand forward and the Aard sign blew the front door open. He took a step back, scanning the streets to make sure no guards were coming, before gesturing for Dominik to follow him.

"Looks like it lacks security too…" Dom muttered following Geralt into the house.

The house looked abandoned on the inside the same as it did on the outside. The dust attacked his nose as soon as he entered, as he saw the discarded shelves, barrels, tables and sacks. He sneezed and looked down to see Geralt knelt to one knee, looking closely at the floor. He himself of course couldn't see anything, but Geralt had his Witcher sense so he assumed he found something.

He wondered around the downstairs, seeing if anything stood out, anything that could be a clue. The bottom floor possessed absolutely nothing of value, only old silver and dining ware, along with dusty old books and containers. Sighing in annoyance he turned back to Geralt, and saw the older Witcher reach down, rubbing his hand across the floor.

"See anything," He asked his adoptive father.

Geralt got up to his feet and nodded, pointing down to the ground, "Got some smaller footprints here, leading upstairs. Come on, let's get moving."

"I love those 'Witcher Senses'," Dom said with a smirk, following Geralt up towards the second floor.

The second floor was much smaller than the bottom. He followed closely behind Geralt who seemingly followed the trail of prints that had been left behind. While he did that, he explored the upper level. One hallway led to a room on the left, and when he entered, he realized it was a wine room. Racks of all types of vintage wines were lined across both sides of the room. Some he recognized, others he didn't. Under a normal occasion he would have taken the time to examine them, see what ones he had tried and hadn't tried before. However, it was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

One spot on the racks did catch his eye. It was the only empty spot in either rack, without a bottle of wine resting on it. He leaned down to take a closer look and read what the spot read.

Cintran red, 1251.

1251, the year he was born… that also happened to be Ciri's birth year as well. He remembered he always used to tease her about being older then her. The had been born in the same year, but he was three months older then she, him being born in September, while she was born in December. It had only been a few weeks before her 15th birthday that she had gone to Aretuza. He never got to spend that birthday with her, never gotten to give her the presents he had planned. He remembered exactly what he was going to give her that year. For weeks he had spent time drawing her a gwent card, one with her own likeness on it, one with fifteen attack power, and a moral boost for all cards in the row. It wasn't an official card of course, but the idea had gotten him excited.

She of course however was gone before he could give it to her.

He had done this often. The smallest thing he saw in everyday life would remind him of a memory he had with her, something they had done together, or a specific thing she had said. The closer he got, the more clues Geralt and he found, the more it had happened. His gut was welling up with so much anxiousness, so much longing and hope, that at times it felt like it was going to explode. Eight years, 2920 days, finally after all that time, he was only a few weeks behind her.

Sighing he gently ran his hands over the words Cintran on the rack, before turning and exiting the room. Geralt and he would find her, he knew they would, they had too.

Because he didn't know what he would do if he failed again.

He came back around from the hallway on the second floor to see Geralt, standing next to a long table, a bottle of wine in his hand, and a letter in the other. Smirking, he walked over to the older Witcher, looking at the bottle in his hands.

"Having a drink," he said with a smile, as the older Witcher handed him the bottle.

Geralt shook his head and looked up from the paper, "No… footprints lead behind that wall. Couldn't get it open but… I found this."

He handed the letter over to Dominik, and he ran his hands along the old parchment. The writing was in elegant letters, like the ones he used to see his mother and father writing. Only a few sentences were scribbled, but the words made his eyes go wide.

"The wine of your birth year is excellent; you must try it…. But afterwards, please place the bottle back where you found it…" He said looking up to Geralt quickly, "The year of your birth?"

Geralt nodded, the light from the moon shining across his face, "Yeah, could be Dandelion's… or Ciri's, 12-."

"December 14th, 1251," he said quickly, taking the bottle of wine and turning.

Quickly, he moved back to where the wine room had been. He of course knew Ciri's birthyear, with it being the exact same as his. Running his hands across the bottles, he finally found the empty slot for Cintran red, and gently placed the bottle back inside. After it had been placed, he heard a satisfying click, before a rumbling sound shook the house. He scoffed a smile and ran back outside to join Geralt.

The puzzle had been solved easily enough, and the passageway to the secret room had been opened. Geralt looked at him with an approving nod before they both walked inside. The small bedroom wasn't very spacious, but the perfect hiding place for a small group planning a heist.

"Must be were Dandelion and his cohorts planned the heist…" Geralt said, walking over towards the table on the left.

He scoffed and looked at the messy bed on the right, "His cohorts being Ciri and Dudu… dammit Geralt I still can't believe it. If I had just stayed here a few more days…"

The thought had been haunting him since he learned it. Ciri had quite literally talked to Dandelion only a few days after he had. He remembered that the bard had asked him to stay, take a few weeks to rest and relax, perhaps do some work in Novigrad and the surrounding regions. In Velen at the time however, the Nilfgaardeans had been pushing ever more forward, so he wasn't exactly eager to stay. He wanted to keep on the move, to avoid the main bulk of the Black Ones army.

He had gone further north, into Redanian lands, and did some work around Tretogor. For a few weeks he did small contracts and worked to gain more coin, trying to gain enough to make a trip to the Skellige Isles, hoping to perhaps find someone that could help him further among Ciri's old friends in Clan An Craite. However, the coin just wasn't coming fast enough, so he slowly started to make his way back down towards Novigrad. It was during this time he met Alesky, the old village elder from Claywitch, who begged him to come help his village.

In the end he was glad that he was able to help the old man, that contract had let him learn Ciri was alive, along with Geralt and Yennefer. However, the idea that if he had just listened to Dandelion and stayed a couple more days… he would have been reunited with Ciri. He could have helped her with whatever it was she had gone to Dandelion for.

He looked over to Geralt who shook his head, "Nothing we can do about it now. We're close, we just need to find Dandelion… come check this out."

Over to his left he saw Geralt looking carefully at a piece of old paper hanging on the bookshelf. Coming up next to the older Witcher he read what the paper said. It was clear what the instructions were, he had seen plenty of them before back at Kaer Morhen, they had burned formulae into his mind that were still there to this day.

He looked over at Geralt wonderingly, "These are instructions on how to build a bomb, Signed by Kalkstein… makes sense now why Dandelion was trying to find him."

Geralt nodded and looked to his right, "Yeah… and check this out, more bomb parts here."

He turned with the older Witcher and saw what he was talking about. On the table were small metal parts of what clearly was meant to be a bomb. The magical runes were faded but still etched into the metal. He saw small sticky spots on the table, leaning down to sniff he gagged and took steps back.

"Ughhh, wyvern oil… potassium, sugar… and some kind of acid, makes sense why it exploded now," He said looking up at Geralt.

Geralt took a closer look at the substances before nodding in agreement, "Yeah… thing like this would blow a huge hole. Question is, what happened to all that treasure, and why did they even need to do it in the first place."

That was the question he kept asking himself. From what he had gathered in Velen, Ciri had gone to Novigrad looking for he, Geralt or Yennefer. She wanted to do something with a curse, cast one, lift one, something. It made sense that she went to Dandelion if she couldn't find them, but what would possess them to then rob a mans vault? It wasn't something Ciri or Dandelion would do for coin, they had to have been doing it for someone else.

He shook his head at Geralt and turned back around. After taking a closer look at the bed, he saw something laying at its foot. Quickly he rushed over and picked up what turned out to be another piece of old parchment. The paper had the same elegant handwriting as the first note did, but when he read the first sentence, his head shot over to Geralt.

"Geralt listen to this," he said, making the older Witcher turn to him, before he continued reading, "Ciri… Menge is following me… he's seized the treasure and has Dandelion… you must flee…. God dammit Ciri…" He said, his chest beginning to thump harder with worry.

If Dandelion had really been taken captive by Menge and the Temple Guard, the man was going to pay. He could remember the remorselessness that the man held in his eyes, as he tossed fire onto the pyres of the people, he had burned in Hierarch Square. He felt his hands curl around the paper as he looked over to Geralt.

The older Witcher sighed and shook his head, "If Menge has him, then we need to-."

Both of them heard the noise at once. Banging came from the floor below. Quickly he looked at the letter in his hand one last time, before igniting his hands into a ball of fire with the Igni sign. The paper burned to a crisp in seconds as Geralt quickly gestured for him to follow silently.

He felt his hands twitch, and his heart begin to pump faster. The next step to finding Dandelion would be to get their hands on Menge, and despite his true objective, he was eager to get to the man. Menge had captured his friend and tried to do the same to Dudu, another friend. The man had been hunting Triss and other mages for months, wanting to burn them in the streets to boost morale. That wasn't something he was going to let continue, he wasn't just going to get the location of Dandelion from Menge… he was going to kill the man, and rid Novigrad of the evil curtain he placed over it.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Dijkstra and… Triss," He said quietly, as Geralt and he both rounded down the steps.

The fat man had brought some of his men with him, and they were currently tearing the house apart. It made him even more relieved that he had burned Dudu's letter to Ciri that would have implicated his friends in the heist. He wasn't very happy to see Dijkstra again, but seeing Triss with him surprised him even more. Geralt looked over at him, and shook his head, and he could tell what the older Witcher was trying to say. He wanted Dominik to keep his mouth shut, while he did the talking.

With an annoyed sigh he nodded back, as Dijkstra finally spotted them.

"Ahhh look who it is," The fat man said with sarcasm, "My favorite father and son Witcher duo, not much competition to it though I'll admit."

Dominik felt his eyes roll again as he crossed his arms, but Geralt scoffed looking between Dijkstra and Triss.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he said to the former spy, before looking at Triss, "Especially not with Triss."

Dijkstra scoffed, "Figured we could use someone who knows a thing or two about magic. Those runes on the bomb, just dying to know what they mean."

Rolling his eyes again Dominik looked over to Triss, "Were you dying to know as well?"

The sorceress laughed and shook her head, "Not at all. Just here for the coin."

He felt himself laugh, knowing that what the sorceress said was true. Dijkstra however scoffed and let out a laugh.

"Ahh Merigold playing the cynical materialist, I love it," The fatter man said, looking back at Geralt and he, "Truth be told her ideals brought her here. Triss needs coin to save her colleagues. Once I've recovered my treasure, I'll be in a position to help…. Speaking of which, did the two of you figure out who took my fucking gold?"

The tone the man used made his fist curl again. He would've said something, but Geralt spoke up before he could, "Bothered Triss for nothing, no use examining the bomb. We already know who nabbed your treasure, it was Caleb Menge, captain of the Temple Guard."

The name Menge hung over the four of them. He saw Triss's eyes go wide, her eyes burning with a look of rage. Dijkstra sensed this and turned over to face her.

"Well, well Merigold, seems your gold comes with a side of revenge," He said with amusement before turning back to Geralt and he, "Word has it Menge has been spending heaps of coin recently, although he shouldn't have a copper to his name."

"So. What now," Triss asked the fat man, her arms crossed impatiently.

Dijkstra smirked, before taking a step back, looking at Geralt, Triss and he, "From what I hear, Menge spends his nights near the docks- Witch Hunters barracks. The three of you can pay him a little visit, see where he's keeping my fucking gold."

Rolling his eyes he finally scoffed, unable to keep his mouth shut, "Ha, you think Menge is just going to give up its location. Menge isn't that stupid."

Dijkstra met his eyes, and he could see the distaste the man held for him, "Well, luckily I hired two Witchers and a sorceress," The fat man smirked and looked at both Triss and Geralt now, "And it so happens one of the Witchers and the sorceress had been through so much together."

He felt the tension in the room somehow rise even higher. Geralt and Triss looked at each other, and Triss quickly spoke back up with venom, "What does our past have to do with this!?"

Dijkstra let out a small chuckle, looking between them again, "Haha, a great deal. Lovers will jump into the abyss for one another… suits my needs perfectly. Namely, it increases your chances of getting out of the Witch Hunter's barracks alive… with my treasure."

The subject of Geralt and Triss's relationship was always something he tried to push out of his mind. He knew that the two of them had been together for a small time before Geralt even found Ciri and he, and that after he had lost his memory only a few months prior they had been even closer. He of course considered Geralt his second father, but Yennefer had always been who he considered as a second mother. Triss was always like the older sibling he had never gotten the chance to have growing up.

Hearing that the two of them had slept together and been romantically involved on many occasions didn't make him love either of them any less, but it had always conflicted him. Triss had never acted on the feelings she still had for Geralt when they were younger but knowing that she did have those feelings, always made it slightly more awkward for him to be around the two at the same time. He knew that it was conflicting for Geralt to see her again now, especially with him only so recently seeing Yennefer again. The older Witcher had claimed they had more important things to focus on, but Dominik could still see how much it had been bothering his adopted father since they arrived.

Seeing Geralt's distress, seemingly in love with two women at once only made him even more thankful that he found Ciri as early in life as he did. Even when he thought he was falling in love with Freya, Ciri had never left his mind, it was how he determined what he felt for Freya wasn't the type of love she felt for him.

"So in other words, you're using us," Geralt said in an irritated tone.

Dijkstra fake scoffed in astonishment, "Using you? Never! Only making the most of your mutual bond. Hahaha… well lovebirds I really must be going."

The limping man quickly whistled, and he saw the goons searching the house stand at attention. Dijkstra gestured for them to follow, and like well-trained animals they followed the gimping man out of the Margrave's house. He breathed out a sigh of relief when the man had finally left. Getting the man's treasure had been the least of his worries, getting to Menge was a priority, but not to find the gold, but to figure out where he was holding Dandelion.

He sighed again in relief, before looking back over to Geralt who was staring at Triss, who was in return staring back at him.

"You… could've told him you know… that we…" Triss started, the words seeming hard to come by.

"You could've told him yourself," Geralt said slowly from next to him.

Triss sighed and met the older Witcher's eyes, "Yeah… but it's not ever easy."

Sensing the tension still he broke into the conversation before Geralt could say anything. He looked over at Triss and into her eyes, "Triss… I'm sorry, I know you need Dijkstra's gold but… that's the last thing I care about, I know it's the same for Geralt too."

The two former lovers both seemed to shake off the momentary distraction and looked down at him. Triss sighed and met Dominik's eyes, a small smile crossing her face.

"I thought as much," She said slowly, sighing with a smile at him, "This is about Ciri… like it's always been for you."

He felt his heart flutter, and the swallow around his neck slowly tremble. The sorceress's words were true, it really had always been about Ciri for him. Slowly he nodded his head, before Geralt stepped up next to him, meeting Triss's eyes again as well.

"Menge has Dandelion captured somewhere…" Geralt started, "Dandelion was the last one to see Ciri, he could know where she is."

A look of realization dawned on Triss's face, as she slowly nodded, looking at them both, "This changes everything then… come on. Let's get started heading towards the barracks. I think I have an idea to get us in there."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The moon had finally reached its apex when Triss pulled them both aside. He could see the Witch Hunter's barracks in the distance torches lit on the walls as Witch Hunters patrolled outside on the empty streets. Only a few drunken tavern patrons, and shady individuals with hoods we on the streets. Triss, Geralt and he were all right outside a chapel of the eternal fire. A large bronze brazier burned brightly in the night below a stone overhang. Carefully Triss looked around to be sure they weren't being eavesdropped on or followed.

The wind was howling in the night, and light drops of rain were beginning to fall. Nervously he sighed and ran hand through his hair, feeling his hands twitch anxiously. Menge was in the barracks now, and the man had harmed his friend, capture him, and tried to kill the other. His stomach curled up into knots, and he could almost hear his heart thump in his chest it was pumping so hard. The hairs on his arm began to stand up, as he didn't take his eyes off the barracks.

Triss finally sighed in relief and turned to the two of them, "Alright, like I said, I have a plan for getting us inside," She said, drawing his attention back to her, "I want you both to put these on me."

He looked down at his eyes widened, she was holding in her hand a pair of shackles, handing them to Geralt.

"Triss… what are these for," Geralt asked, carefully taking them in his hands.

Triss looked them both in the eyes and he could see the hardness appear in them. The hardness and fire, that had gotten her the nickname Merigold the Fearless, the Fourteenth on the Hill.

"Think about it," The sorceress started, crossing her arms, "Bring the hunters the vile Triss Merigold in chains. They're not just likely to let you in, they're likely to let you present her to Menge personally."

A thousand alarm bells all went off in his head at one time. He could see the flabbergasted look on Geralt's face as well after hearing what Triss had planned. He had already lost Ciri, he lost Geralt and Yennefer once, there was no way he was going to risk losing Triss as well.

"No way, absolutely not," he said quickly, before Geralt could answer, "There's no way I'm bringing you to the Witch Hunters in chains Triss. Let me go get Faram, we'll bust our way in there. Three Witchers and a sorceress, they don't stand a chance. I'll get a sword to Menge's throat and figure out where Dandelion is."

That was all he wanted to do now. He wanted to bust down the gates of the barracks and slaughter every last one of them. It would be sweet revenge for all that the Hunters had put Triss through, and all of the innocent people they had killed. The white-hot rage building up inside of him was close to exploding as he met Triss's green eyes.

"He's right Triss, this is way too risky," Geralt quickly said when he was done.

Triss's eyes faltered for a moment, but she shook her head pacing, "Dominik, Geralt as much as I appreciate the concern attacking the fortress is suicide. Even with three Witchers and a sorceress. High walls, guards at every nook, besides it would give Menge time to escape."

Once again, he shook his head quickly, the alarm bells still ringing in his head, "There's no way I'm bringing you right to Menge's base in shackles. Triss, I will NOT let them get their hands on you."

"He's right Triss, you can't seriously want to walk into the lion's den in chains," Geralt asked, his tone with a slight edge to it.

The sorceress sighed and quickly looked towards the barracks, before turning back to them both, "Dandelion's life is on the line… and by extension Ciri's too! I know the risks… and I won't change my mind."

Triss knew him all too well, she knew exactly what to say to make his decision shift. The moment she mentioned Ciri's name his focus shifted. The last thing he wanted to do was put Triss in further danger, however he knew that the sorceress wouldn't relent. Triss was just as determined to see Ciri safe as the rest of them and was doing what she could to help. She had even put aside her mission of helping the mages of Novigrad, by agreeing to help them figure out about Dandelion before anything else.

Ciri and Dandelion were what mattered now, and Triss understood that.

Sighing he looked up and nodded at the sorceress before he turned over to Geralt. The older Witcher's look of apprehension almost brought back his own, but finally his adoptive father nodded.

"Okay fine… let's say they take the bait, what then," Geralt asked her, "I hold a sword to Menge's throat and demand to know where Dandelion is?"

"I like that plan," He muttered, crossing over his arms.

Triss shook her head at the words, "No, that won't work. Menge is a lot of things, but you gotta admit, death doesn't scare him…. Maybe tell him you have information on the Lodge, or even better about Phillipa. He hates her most of all, I'm sure you'll both think of something."

Geralt finally relented as well, before looking up to meet Triss's eyes in the moonlight, "Before we go… I wanna thank you Triss."

"Geralt's right," Dominik quickly added in, meeting the sorceresses eyes, "You always looked out for Ciri and me Triss… I never told you how much I appreciated it."

Triss looked down, a small red hue appearing on her cheek before she looked back up at them both, "Stop please… it doesn't befit a sorceress to blush… you're welcome. Just… remember, the both of you… I can take care of myself."

The sorceress turned around for a moment, taking in a deep breath to compose herself, "The hunters they… won't treat me like a lady. It may hurt… I may scream but… remember what matters. Ciri, Dandelion… that's what matters. Do what you need to do, no matter what."

He felt the alarm bells and the bomb of white-hot rage that was ticking, was almost erupting inside of him. Triss was risking her life and freedom for them. She was looking out for Ciri and he as she always had, no matter what the personal cost was. Something his father had always taught him, was that to protect ones family, one should be willing to do anything. He was willing to do anything for the new family he had now, the ones whose names were now permanently on his arms. Ciri, Geralt, Yennefer and Triss. He was about to let one of his family, walk into the most dangerous place for her to be, in chains.

And now she was asking him to stand by when they beat her, tortured her. The bomb of rage's fuse inside him was slowly ticking, and soon it was going to explode.

"I can't promise you that," Geralt said to the sorceress, his eyes not leaving hers.

"I can't either…" He said slowly after the older Witcher had finished.

Triss slowly shook her head as she met their eyes, "I'm still asking you both to try… please."

Slowly he took in a steadying breath and nodded his head, with Geralt quickly doing the same afterwards.

The bomb of rage would soon explode he knew it. He only loved a select few people in the world, and Triss Merigold was one of them. She had been there at a time when he needed it most. She had saved his life she had comforted him at one of the most vulnerable moments of his childhood. She had been the first person he ever told that he felt he was in love with Ciri, other then of course Ciri herself. He was flashed back to the nights at Kaer Morhen, lightning roaring outside the castle, as he shot up from his bed screaming after having seen the corpses of his mother, sister and father in his arms during his nightmares. Triss Merigold would be the one to come take care of him and help him achieve a pleasant night's sleep. Night after night, no matter how many in a row the sorceress had to wake up, she had.

Menge had tried to hunt the wrong sorceress. He had meddled in the wrong Witcher's family.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Open up, come on we don't have all night," He yelled up towards the battlements as he pounded his gloved hand on the door.

The rain had begun to come down even harder, to the point where it had become a torrential downpour. He could barely hear himself over the rain as he screamed up towards the walls. His brown hair stuck to his forehead, as he sighed in annoyance, pounding his fist harder against the wooden door.

Geralt was behind him, holding Triss in the shackles. He wanted the plan to get over with as quickly as possible, so his impatience was growing. A part of him wanted to blast the door down with the Aard sign at that moment, brandish his sword and charge in after Menge. However, he managed to calm the white bomb of rage boiling inside his gut for the moment. With every pound of the door however, it slowly started to ignite again.

"What the hell do you want," A voice finally screamed from above him.

He took a few steps back next to Geralt and looked up towards the battlements, one of the Witch Hunters had finally poked his head over the side of the wall.

"What the fuck does it look like!? We're here for a reward," he shouted up towards the hunter, his arms crossed.

The rain smacked hard into the stone streets, and he could barely hear the Hunter when he yelled back to them.

"HA, what reward," The man shouted back down with arrogance laced in his voice.

He was about to shout more obscenities up towards the man, when Geralt finally spoke up, "Don't you see who we have here man. It's Triss Merigold!"

Geralt ripped down Triss's hood to reveal her fiery red hair. He felt his hands curl into fists again, as he could almost see the whites of the Hunters eyes from how wide they went. The man was clearly delighted, as he tried to shout back down over the rain.

"Merigold!? Come in then," He shouted through the downpour.

The Hunter's head disappeared, and he sighed in annoyance. He looked over to Triss one more time as he heard the locks to the doors begin to clang open. Triss met his eyes and slowly nodded before he heard the door swing open. He whirled around to see the Hunter from the top of the battlements gesture for them to enter.

Geralt looked down and met his eyes with a nod. Sighing to steady his breathing, readying himself for what he had to do. He was going to have to do something he was horrible at for this plan to work. It required him to sit back and do nothing. He had to sit and watch while Triss was beaten and possibly tortured. His blade would have to stay sheathed, and he didn't know if he could keep it there. Geralt gestured for him to move, so he finally did, walking trough the door into the Witch Hunters barracks, his boots sloshing into a puddle as he did.

Inside the outer wall, he could see the relatively large barracks now in front of him. Along the outside he saw multiple Hunters walking about on the walls. Crossbows, spears, swords, axes, every type of weapon could be seen in either the hands of hunters, or on racks surrounding the outside. He was careful to take note of where they were posted, how many he saw and tried to calculate a possible escape. The walls were high, but a few sets of scaffolding were high enough that if they climbed them, they could escape over the walls. He hadn't fought off any of the Witch Hunters so far in Novigrad, but he had to assume they were more skill then Whoreson Juniors thugs. He'd have to be more careful. He would more than likely be fighting on the inside of the barracks if fighting did break out, he would need to be careful, he wouldn't be able to throw bombs, and some signs would be useless in such close quarters.

He was brought out of his location scouting by a deep gravely voice.

"Well, well, Triss Merigold," A Witch Hunter said, flanked by two others. The man was clearly in the lead, he wore a brown cap, with the Redanian coat of arms, he looked over to meet Geralt and he's eyes, "Traded in drowners for sorceresses?"

"Pay's better," Geralt said quickly, his eyes narrowed at the Hunter.

The Witch Hunter on the left scoffed at Geralt's words, "That's cause they're more dangerous. What's a drowner do? Pull a fisherman from his boat? No, witches, they scheme, kill kings, and start wars."

"Don't forget turning your cow's milk sour straight out of the udder…" Triss said indignantly.

Before he could step forward and react, the sergeant of the Hunters smacked his hand across Triss's face, nearly sending her to the ground. His eyes shot to the man as his hands curled into fists, the hair on his arms standing up despite the torrential rain they stood under. The bomb in his chest had a lit fuse once again when he saw the arrogant look of pride on the man's face.

"You're done jesting Merigold," The man said with a smirk, turning to the Hunter on his right, "Put her in a cell, now."

The Hunter went to step forward and grab her, but quickly Dominik stepped in front, holding out his hand to stop the man.

"Paws off now," He said lowly, turning to meet the sergeants eyes again, "We hand her to Menge personally, or you don't get her at all."

He kept his eyes locked with the taller man as he scoffed, looking down at him, "Bah, are you suggesting we don't know what to do with a Witch?"

The Hunter on the right tried to grab Triss's arm, but the sorceress stepped back, screaming at the man, "Don't you dare touch me you bastard!"

If he hadn't been wearing his gauntlets, his fingernails would have broken his skin. He had to bite his lip as he turned to see the Hunter laughed like a mad man, gripping Triss's arm.

"Such a vulgar tongue has no business being in such a pretty mouth… I guess we'll have to rip it out," The man said, a sick look of excitement on his face.

He almost lost it in that moment. His feet moved forward, with full intention on cutting the mans hand off, when Geralt quickly spoke up, saving him from blowing their cover.

"I'd try to loosen it first if I were you," The older Witcher said, drawing the attention of all three hunters again, "If you do, you may learn something… for instance, where Phillipa Eilhart is hiding."

The mention of Phillipa Eilhart made all three of the Hunters turn to Geralt. He didn't know much about the sorceress himself, other then what Geralt had told him. It was her scheme at the summit of Loc Muinne that had nearly killed him. Geralt was forced to fight a dragon, and was nearly killed in the process, Eilhart was later blinded by Radovid before escaping. This was all stacked on top of the fact she was a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses, whom he wasn't particularly fond of. Despite the fact Kiera Metz was his friend, and he loved Yennefer and Triss, they had still been partly responsible for plunging the continent into conflict. The group had also tried to force Ciri into a political marriage only weeks after she arrived back onto the continent the first time.

For those reasons combined, a small part of him felt no sympathy for Phillipa Eilhart. If dropping her name at that moment got them closer to what really mattered, then he was willing.

"I'll get you for this you…" Triss screamed, looking over to Geralt.

He felt his chest thump as the rain continued to pour down on them. The Witch Hunter to the left quickly spit on the ground in Triss's direction.

"Shut your mouth you ginger whore," He yelled to Triss, before looking up at Geralt, "And you, tell us where we can find Eilhart!"

Dominik quickly regain his composure, and stepped in front of Triss again, "Like we said, we talk to Menge, or we don't talk to anyone at all. So scurry off like a good little lackey and tell him we're here."

He stood his ground when the Witch Hunter stepped forward, the man's face now inches from his, "Menge doesn't have time to talk to the likes of you BOY."

Keeping his eyes locked with the man, he kept his arms crossed, the rain falling harder between the two of them.

"Well, if that's the case… you can tell him that Geralt and I stopped by with our friend Merigold, and information on Phillipa Eilhart… and then you turned us away," He said slowly, taking a step even closer to the man.

Smartly, the Hunter finally took a step back, his face still contorted in annoyance. Dominik turned his head to the sergeant, who sighed in annoyance, looking at both Geralt and he.

"Fine… grab her and follow me… but be sure to stay right close," The sergeant said slowly, turning his back towards them and walking towards the inside.

He breath a small sigh of relief and met Geralt's eyes. The older Witcher nodded to him, and he began to follow the man. He finally felt the rain stop beating down onto his head when they entered, and the roar of a fire slowly but surely started to warm his bones and clothes. The inside of the barracks had a ground floor with multiple tables, barrels, weapon racks and plenty of other baubles you'd need to maintain a healthy barracks.

Again as he walked slowly behind the sergeant, he examined the area carefully. He tried to take notice of any guard that had a crossbow, or spear, and tried to keep count of how many there were. There had to be at least twenty men combined with the ones who were outside. It wasn't the full force of the Witch Hunters he knew, even if he did have to kill Menge and all of them on his way out, he knew that more would soon follow. Some were likely out on patrol, in Oxenfurt, or out hanging random herbalists.

The sergeant led them up a winding staircase in the middle of the ground floor to take them above. The second floor had a room where he could see cots lined inside, with a few off-duty Hunters sleeping or playing cards. The upper floor wrapped around with a large fall down to the first. It wasn't very roomy, and suddenly he remembered something Faram had told him earlier, while they were training before he left with Geralt to investigate the Margrave's house.

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?

Scanning his surroundings he realized how perfect the inside of the barracks were for the Bear School style. A shot of apprehension shot into his spine like he was receiving a needle. He was nowhere near ready to use the Bear School style yet, at least that was what he felt. He only had a few hours long training session, and while he had a small amount of success, it wasn't anywhere near enough to use in open combat yet, with men actually trying to kill him. However, if he was forced too, he may need to adjust to it, and at least try if it meant them getting out of the place alive.

The sergeant in front of him finally came to a stop outside two closed doors. Standing next to him was a large beefy man with a hood, but no armor on his torso. The larger man smiled manically at Triss as Geralt brought her forward, his mismatched teeth and crooked nose showing. It almost was enough for him to unsheathe his sword then, but he managed to stop himself when Geralt came up next to him with Triss.

The sergeant gestured towards the room behind him, "This is where we split, you two go see Menge. Miss Merigold will be next door."

Quickly his head shot to the man, but Geralt was the first to speak up, "We told you, not until-."

"You don't set the terms here mutant! Dirk," The sergeant said turning to the larger man besides him, "You know what to do."

The large man quickly grabbed Triss's bound hands and yanked her in front of him, Triss snarled, looking up at the much larger man, "You won't get a word out of me…. You won't."

Dirk the torturer laughed, "Oh haha, we'll see about that. First, we'll take a fingernail… then three. We'll see how tough you are under a pair of plyers…"

The rain could be heard splashing against the top of the roof so loudly, it sounded as if there was a hailstorm. He knew that this would be the deciding moment in their mission. He saw the sick, twisted, hungry look that came on the torturers face as he looked down at Triss. It made him snap, he felt his hand moving upwards, towards his back when Geralt stopped him by stepping in front of him before he could do anything.

"Do what you want…" Geralt said slowly, as if the very words pained him to do so.

He let out a terse breath, feeling his inside churn as if a grapeshot bomb had gone off inside him. The torturer Dirk yanked Triss to the side by her shackles and laughed. The laugh of the man rang through his body, making him feel as if someone was smashing his bones with a hammer.

"Hahaha, come on you witch whore," Dirk bellowed, "I'll show you the wonders you can work with a pair of pliers… you'll be surprised."

Triss was taken away to be tortured, and he stood there unmoving. He had to put the pressure onto his legs to make sure they didn't instinctively chase after the sorceress. Geralt quickly came up next to him and met his eyes, pleading with him to play along for only a little longer. He took in steadying breath and met his adoptive fathers eyes. The anger could be seen in his yellow Witcher eyes as well, he knew that Geralt would be ready to spring Triss at a moment's notice and cut down every one of the Hunters.

But first they'd need to figure out what had become of Dandelion.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I thought I said I was not to be disturbed…" Menge said, as the sergeant led them into the room.

Menge's office was smaller, but he could still smell the stench of blood and death. A small bucket sat in the left corner of the room, and a small drip, drip could be heard as the torrential rain on the outside continued to pound the roof of the barracks. Two large bookshelves lined the right side of the room, along with a door leading outside. Menge himself sat at his desk, his scarred face slowly looking up at Geralt and he. The balding man seemed to have a satisfied look in his eyes when he saw the two of them. It was a look he had seen multiple times in monsters, it was the look they got when he walked right into their den to try and slay them, that initial confidence they had when they saw one lowly Witcher.

The look disappeared off them after he cut them down and brought their head to the people it'd been terrorizing. Menge would meet the same fate as those monsters if he had his way.

The sergeant was about to say something when a deep voice came from the other room.

"Now, now where do we start…. Ah right here. THIS little piggy went to market," The torturer screamed.

He could almost hear the crack that came next, followed by Triss's scream. Quickly he held his hands behind his back, an curled both his hands into fists, as her screams continued.

Geralt seemed to be in the same state as he. The head Witch Hunter and Menge however, didn't seem fazed at all, as if they were used to the sounds of screaming mages. The sergeant Witch Hunter looked at Menge and bowed.

"Aye unless they were bringing Triss Merigold," he said, before turning to the two Witchers, "And they both also claim to have information about Phillipa Eilhart."

Upon hearing Triss's name, Menge's head shot over to the door leading to the torture room. The smile he got on his face also reminded him of many monsters he had to kill over the years. The commander of the temple guard turned back to them.

"Ahhh Merigold… that's who I hear squealing? Very well-I'll visit her soon. But for now," he said, meeting the eyes of Geralt and he again, "Sit Witchers, have a drink."

"I don't want to drink with you," He said slowly as Geralt and he both went to sit in the two chairs in front of Menge.

Geralt took a seat next to him, one arm on one of his knees. He leaned forward, his elbows on both knees and he kept his hands below the table where Menge couldn't see them. His foot impatiently tapped on the floor, and both his hands curled into balled fists.

"Not in the mood either," Geralt said, looking Menge in the eyes.

Menge snorted and pushed two goblets towards him, "You can drink Witchers… or you can die."

The threat hung over the air like a thick mist. He wanted to offer Menge a third option, that he could brandish his blade at that moment, and cut him down where he sat. However, at the current moment, the man needed to be breathing, able to talk, to tell them where Dandelion was being held. He waited for Geralt to move first, and when the older Witcher slowly reached out for the goblet, he did the same.

He raised the up to his lips and took a small sip of what turned out to be wine. After tasting he realized what Menge was trying to do. He could feel the metallic aftertaste of silver in his mouth. The goblet had been laced with silver, to see if Geralt and he weren't dopplers. Just to be extra spiteful to the man, he raised the goblet to his mouth again, and downed the entire cup of what he recognized even more specifically as Cidarian, a wine native to around Cintra. He made a point of slamming the goblet back onto the desk, locking eyes with Menge, who narrowed his own at him.

"Cidarian, 1261 vintage… year of the massacre of Cintra…. We're not dopplers," He said feeling his fingers twitch under the desk.

Geralt scoffed looking at Menge again, "Silver sword on my back wasn't proof enough?"

Another loud scream pierced the room. He recognized Triss's screams again, and the inside of his stomach caught fire. The bomb of anger that had been festering since his journey to find Ciri began was starting to finally be ready to boil over. His hands trembled, his foot shook, he knew he could reach the dagger in his belt and have it in Menge's throat before any of them could react. Geralt thankfully kicked his own foot over to make his stop tapping, calming him slightly for the moment.

Menge looked over to the sergeant in the back of the room, "Kurt please see why Miss Merigold squeals so convincingly. Perhaps she needs something, hot irons for instances."

The sergeant nodded and walked into the torture room, a look of satisfaction adorning his face. Menge quickly turned back to them both, leaning back in his chair.

"To answer your question Witcher, one can never be too careful. You'd be surprised how many come into my office and turned to rancid jelly by merely touching the goblets," Menge curled, a sick smile appearing back on his face.

The sick look of satisfaction Menge had on his face at describing the process almost made him sick. He didn't know what to say next, all he could focus on was Triss screaming in the next room. His rage was reaching a boiling point. The entire quest, ever since he first set out to find Ciri with Geralt, the rage had been building. The anger about not being able to help her in her greatest hour of need. The anger of learning that on multiple occasions she had been so close to him, but he just couldn't get to her. The pure anger that he had felt as the trail to her got more and more convoluted. And now, there was the anger that a person he cared deeply about was in the next room getting tortured. It was all a bomb waiting to explode inside of him.

Geralt spoke up, taking him away from the thoughts momentarily, "Your hunters are torturing Triss… but we haven't been paid. You're damaging goods you haven't paid for."

Menge scoffed and leaned back in his chair again, "Fear not Witchers, you shall be paid, twice the usual amount for Merigold."

Triss screamed again in the next room, and he looked down to see Geralt as well was finally reaching his breaking point. The Witcher's hands curled into fists, so he took the opportunity to look back up at Menge.

"Double," He said to the vile man, "You're being awfully generous, why?"

Menge laughed again and looked back to Geralt, "Ha, well Geralt here has turned in his former lover! That has to leave a scar on the soul that one…. You deserve compensation."

He could see the emotion unmoving on Geralt's face but saw the older Witcher fist stay curled under the table, he spoke, but very tersely, "You seem well informed…. So you have to know that Triss betrayed me first, used me as a pawn in the Lodge's game…. She's getting what she deserves if you ask me."

The tone in which Geralt spoke almost convince Dominik himself. He looked over to his adoptive father and could see the man's fingers twitching. Another loud scream finally came from the torture chamber again. Triss scream, but so did the torturer, yelling that Triss had tried to bite his finger. Under a normal circumstance he may have laughed, but this wasn't a normal situation. Menge's face curled into a satisfied smile, as he looked between the two Witchers. He silently added Menge's eyes, to the list of pure evil he had seen in men before. Emhyr Var Emrys was the first, and now Menge had been added to that list as well.

Menge scoffed, "Well Geralt, it seems I underestimated you and your boy…. Perhaps we can deal after all," The man said with a smirk staying on his face, "You also say you have information about Phillipa… but I wager you won't share this information for free. What do you want in return?"

He could tell Geralt was about to burst, so quickly he uncurled his fist and held it up on Menge's desk, getting the man's attention.

"We do want something in return, and it's relatively simple," He said, as Menge turned to meet his eyes, "You have our friend Dandelion captive… free him and we'll tell you where to find Eilhart," he slowly spit out.

The words seemed to surprise Menge. He looked over and saw Geralt let out a deep breath through his nose. The bomb ready to go off in his stomach's fuse had momentarily stopped, it stopped just before the fire had reached the bomb itself. He kept a careful eye on the man's face, trying to gage what his reaction was going to be. The man's lipped curled for a moment, as if he was having a hard time coming to the decision. One of his hands remained on the table, drumming his fingers along it as Menge thought. His other hand remained under the desk, shaking incessantly, as he could see Geralt's knee bouncing up and down, a hard look on the older Witcher's face, he could tell his adoptive father was ready to spring at a moment's notice.

Menge finally sigh in disappointment, "Information on Philippa Eilhart in exchange for the life of a fucking minstrel… sounds too good to be true, but unfortunately I can't," The man said smugly, "Dandelion is locked under Temple Isle, I have a spectacular execution planned in Oxenfurt, and he'll only be moved by orders issued by me in person. The whole thing will be quite the spectacle."

"What are you waiting for than," Dominik hissed as soon as the man finished.

The rain continued to pound the roof, the light from the torches in Menge's room lit the man's face manically. The way he had spoken about Dandelion being executed the excitement he spoke with had made his skin crawl again. It felt as if a hundred beetles were crawling up both his arms as Menge's eyes grew dark at his words. The scar across his left eye seemed to grow deeper, as he slowly smiled looking at them both.

"Why, I'm waiting to see if I can find his accomplices," The man said slowly, his voice dripping with pleasure, "I already know about that doppler scum that he hangs around. But my guards reported seeing someone else with Dandelion that night on temple isle. A young woman."

The fuse that was lit in his stomach finally reached the bomb, and it was almost as if he could hear a small click as it did. He felt as if an iron coffin had clamped shut around his chest, as his green eyes grew dark staring at Menge.

The man looked up longingly, "Lass escaped, but killed more than her fair share of my men before she did. Reports say she was displaying magical abilities, blinking from one spot to another," He explained, spitting out the details in disgust, "We'll find the doppler, and this woman…there'll be a pyre waiting for her."

The bomb inside of him finally exploded. And he saw a flash of bright blue appear in his vision, as something completely erupted and stirred inside of him.

He shot up from the chair, and his hand fired forward quick as a flash, large clumps of light blue magic circled his arms and gathered in his palm. The giant blue blast of magic from the Aard sign shot forwards. It was so powerful that he surprised himself, it picked up Menge's desk firing it and the man against the wall of the office. The bucket that had been collecting leaks had been knocked over, the bookshelf to the right of his desk rumbled and fell forward, burying Menge under piles of books and his desk. His twitching hand finally went up to his blade drawing the steel. He looked over to Geralt who had rose to his feet as well.

"Go get Triss…" he said to the older Witcher, in a voice laced with venom and fury.

Geralt didn't argue with him, he drew the steel sword from his back and ran into the torture chamber. He could hear the distant yelling of Hunters as his sign surely must have alerted them. Menge to the man's credit managed to tossed the desk off himself and rose from the stack of books that had fallen on him. Dazed and clutching his head he fumbled for the blade at his hip.

"GUARDS, GUARDS," The man shouted, as his steel raked out of its sheath.

"I'll kill them too…" He said, spreading his feet, and leveling his sword towards the man.

In that moment he had never felt such fury. He felt as a giant fire had erupted from the bomb of anger in his stomach. All the unfortunate events that had happened, the anger and fury he had been holding in all came back to him at once. He saw a small cut bleeding on Menge's forehead as he stood across from the younger Witcher. For the first time, he saw a look of slight fear in Menge's eyes.

All he saw was the eyes of a monster, a monster who had just tortured Triss, and threatened to burn Ciri at the stake. Nobody would hurt them again, particularly not Menge. He turned slowly when he heard the door open behind him. Three of the Witch Hunters rushed in, one holding a crossbow, the other two had swords raised. In the other room, he heard a loud explosion that shook the very barracks to its core, and the sounds of fighting came from outside in the barracks. He felt a small sigh of relief leave him, Geralt and Triss had both gotten out. Carefully, he examined what his situation was. Four against one, and these weren't Whoreson Juniors lightly armored thugs. These were trained killers, wearing armor up to their necks, one holding a long-ranged weapon, the odds didn't exactly stack up in his favor.

However, he heard the words in his head again. There'll be a pyre waiting for her.

Menge roared to his men, "What the hell are you waiting for! Shoot the bastard!"

At the words he heard the twang of a crossbow, he whirled around and saw the bolt sailing towards his face. With a flick of his sword he deflected the bolt to the ground as he turned back to Menge, pointing out his sword.

"I'm going to kill you… slowly," He said, his tone even surprising himself, nothing could saturate the rage that had finally unleashed inside of him.

He heard the clattering of steel from outside the office, and the blasts of fire as Triss and Geralt yelled battle cries. Menge finally seemed to realize what was happening and charged at him first.

"You must ground yourself!" He heard Faram of Undviik yell in his head.

Menge's first strike came from the left, he took a small sidestep and threw all his power into the parry, sending Menge sprawling forward as the other Hunters finally charged as well. It was as if a switch had turned all of his senses up to an eleven as he fought. He grounded himself, using small spins and parrying with such force and precision he surprised even himself. Whenever he took a slight second the think how he could be doing it, the words played over in his head again. There'll be a pyre waiting for her.

No, nobody was going to hurt her again, not while he was still breathing. One came with an overhead strike from the right. With both hands he threw a powerful parry, while throwing the parry he knocked his opponents blade down to the ground, he saw the perfect opportunity Faram had spoken about, spinning after he parried and slashing his blade upward deeply through the unarmored part of the man's neck.

As soon as he finished the death blow, he heard the twang of a crossbow, he whirled back around and knocked the bolt out of the air again. He saw the man with the crossbow's eyes go wide, Dominik took the opportunity and thrust his hand forward. The Aard sign shot forward and it sent the man sprawling from the room. After he finished his sign, he felt his legs start to give, but still managed to keep himself grounded. He turned around quickly as again he heard a battle cry.

He side stepped and knocked away the parry from another Hunter, before Menge rushed forward, bringing his blade down and locking his weapon with the younger Witchers. Menge was much larger then he, and his muscles began to wane from the energy his signs took up. Menge's eyes went deranged, as he pushed down harder on Dominik's blade. He tried to sidestep out under the blade, but Menge had expected this, he adjusted his strike and caught the younger Witchers shoulder. It was the one exposed part of his shoulder there and he felt the steel rake against his skin.

Dom gritted his teeth, feeling the blood begin to seep down his body under his armor. Menge turned back around and stood towards him with his last remaining Hunter. He heard the words run through his head again. There'll be a pyre waiting for her.

No, there wouldn't be. He twirled his sword into a reverse grip, he needed to lash out in the style of fighting he knew best. The Bear School techniques had worked for a small while, but he was still far from a master, more practice with Faram was certainly needed. However at that moment, he felt the spark of anger and rage erupt again. He lashed out towards the two men again in a flurry of lunges and spins. A few times he almost tripped over the flipped desk, and knocked over bookshelf, but he was still as agile as ever.

All of the rage and frustration from the last few weeks unleashed on the two men in front of him. Being forced to bow before the man who had his entire family and first home murdered, learning that he had only been a few days behind Ciri in his trip to Novigrad, the anger that she had gone through hell and back and he had been unable to do anything about it. The anger he felt at the trail continuing to twist and turn, seeming to take two steps forward only to take two steps back. All of that anger unleashed.

He slashed low to the left on the first Hunter and the man leaped back, he used his momentum to turn around and block a strike from Menge. Menge tried to lock blades with him again, but Dominik was swift enough this time, he quickly sidestepped to the left, letting Menge's momentum carry him downward. He spun and took the opportunity to slash his blade across the back of Menge's legs. The commander of the guard cried out and fell to his knees, just as the last Witch Hunter charged him again.

He parried a series of strikes with his reversed grip, before lashing out on his own. He leaped and spun, putting all his power into one strike. It broke through the Hunters parry and made the man's stumble backwards. As he was stumbling the man tried one last overhead strike, which Dominik easily side stepped. The young Witcher twirled his blade back around and slashed it downwards, lopping off both of the man's hands. The Witch Hunter wailed in pain, before Dominik came back around to swiftly end his misery with a slice to his throat.

He took a second to breathe as the second man lay dead. Taking the second had been a mistake, he heard the footsteps behind him. Menge had charged again, and he only had a moment to get his blade up to defend. He did manage to parry the strike, but Menge managed to knock his sword from his hand. Quickly he was put on the back foot as the commander of the temple guard charged, swinging his sword from both angles. He dodged his head backwards, side stepping and spinning around to avoid and overhead strike that would have killed him.

Quickly he reached down to his belt and twirled his silver dagger out into his right hand. Menge thought he had him on the ropes and went for a powerful strike from the upper left. He caught the man's strike on the hilt of his dagger, swiftly he reached up, and twisted Menge's sword arm awkwardly with such force he heard a crack. With his sword arm trapped, with great speed and precision, he brought his dagger up and plunged it into the side of Menge's neck.

Menge's eyes went wide, as blood slowly started to seep from his mouth and throat. The commander of the temple guard gargled on his own blood as his limbs went week and he felt to his knees. Slowly, keeping the dagger in the man's neck, Dominik went to his knees as well, keeping his eyes locked with the man.

Slowly he twisted his blade in the man's flesh, he met the dying man's beady eyes again, the life slowly seeping away from them.

"So… looks like silver can kill more than just dopplers," He said slowly, anger and fury saturating his voice.

Menge gargled on his blood once more before the eyes rolled up to the back of his head. Finally, he pulled his dagger from the man's flesh, standing to his feet as Menge's body finally crumpled to the ground. He wiped the man's blood off the dagger on his armor, before slowly sliding the smaller silver weapon into his belt. He looked around at the three bodies he had strewn over the floor. The rage he felt coursing through his veins had slowly, slowly started to subside. He let out a shaky breath and suddenly almost felt his knees give out.

Nearly falling over, he managed to compose himself enough to walk over to where his blade had been knocked from his hands. Carefully he reached down and picked the blade up from the ground, slowly sliding it into the sheath on his back. As he did, he could see the blood from Menge's body stained over his black gloves, and suddenly felt his stomach churn. He had never felt himself unleash such rage before. Never had he killed a man in such a manner, so cruelly, so slowly and without remorse.

It almost got to a point where he regretted what he had done, but then the words in Menge's slimy, sadistic voice played in his head again.

There'll be a pyre waiting for her. Those words, and the screams of Triss Merigold he had heard from the next room played in his head. He saw the two people burning in Hierarch Square when he had first arrived to Novigrad. He thought about all the people, the herbalists, pellars, soothsayers and other innocent mages the man had ordered put to death. He looked back over at the man's lifeless corpse, and in that moment even the slightest bit of remorse he had went away.

His head turned back around when the door to the office burst open again. Geralt and Triss both rushed in, Geralt with his steel sword that was still dripping blood, Triss with a hot ball of fire in her hand. The flame extinguished when she saw him, and the dead body of Menge.

Right away he ran to her, "Triss, are you alright?"

He looked down at the sorceresses bloody hand and gently grabbed it, seeing her fingernails had been pulled clean off. The rage creeped up back inside of him again, and he felt even less remorse for Menge's lifeless corpse. The sorceress met his eyes, giving him a small smile.

"I'm alright," She said lightly, looking at the cut across his shoulder, "What about you? You're bleeding."

He remembered the wound going down his shoulder, and felt the blood sticking his armor to his body. The wound wasn't deep but was bleeding, so he knew he'd have to dress it, but that was the least of his worries.

He shook his head, "I'm alright. I've had much worse wounds and survived as you know."

Triss scoffed a smile before looking over to Geralt who was kneeling over Menge's body. The sorceress sighed and looked back to meet his green eyes with hers, "Did you at least get the information about Dandelion we needed?"

The whole reason they were there flashed back into his head and he remembered more of what Menge said. He turned around and looked at the man's dead body, suddenly cursing to himself.

Geralt fished something from the hem of Menge's pocket, turning around and showing them an iron key, "Looks like we at least found something for Dijkstra, maybe this'll get him off our backs."

Triss scoffed, "Ha, give it to him with my regards… but what about Dandelion?"

Geralt sighed and looked over to Dominik, and then back to Triss, "Menge let slip he's holding him in the prison on Temple Isle. Was going to transport him to Oxenfurt to be executed there, problem is…"

The terrible thought ran through his head. He looked down at the man's blood on his hands, "He said that only he can give the order for Dandelion to be moved… in person. And I killed him… FUCK!"

He cursed loudly, running a hand through his hair, pacing in the room rain continued to pound the roof. Sighing loudly he turned back to Geralt, "I'm sorry Geralt it's my fault… he… he said he was looking for Ciri to burn them all together and I just-."

"It's alright, don't worry," Geralt said to him, holding his hand up for him to stop, "I was almost ready to do the same. Still though… we need to think of something."

Triss walked over to Menge's body. He could see the look of detest and anger in the sorceress's eyes, the man who had been hunting her and her friends for months had finally been killed. Her eyes contorted to look at the body in disgust one last time, before turning back to the two Witchers.

"I think I have an idea… we can still have Menge order Dandelion's release," She said, and Dom could see the tiredness and fatigue on the sorceresses face.

Despite the fatigue he also felt himself he scoffed, looking again at Menge's corpse, "Well I don't think he's exactly going to be very talkative right now."

Triss shook her head, "He won't be your right… but we still need him to order Dandelion's release. We need him… or… someone who looks just like him."

The sorceresses plan clicked in his head as he looked over to Geralt who looked at Triss with an impressed look, "You're talking about Dudu… good idea."

He did agree as well, however he also knew that for good reasons the doppler had gone into hiding. However, if it meant getting to free Dandelion, they would have to find some way to lure him out of hiding. It spurred him on as well when he realized that Dudu had seen Ciri as well, he could know more about what she had been trying to do in Novigrad really.

"That's a good plan yeah but… how are we going to find him? He's in hiding after what happened on Temple Isle," He said, turning around to Geralt.

The older Witcher seemed to think for a moment, before a small smile and look of realization appeared on his face, "We can go talk to Priscilla. If her and Dandelion were as close as she says she may know something. She may know more."

Sighing he nodded his head. After such a long day of fighting, training and more fighting, his bones were beginning to ache, yearning for a cold glass of ale and the bed back at the Rosemary and Thyme. In the end they had gotten what they came for. They discovered where Dandelion was being held, and more importantly had a plan to free him. A lot had been accomplished in the day, and he also still had the information that Whoreson was working with the Redanians to bring to Dijkstra.

Triss nodded and looked at them both, her eyes growing darker, "Alright you guys got a plan, good… now let's get out of here. But first… let's burn this place to the ground."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Impatient old bastard," Geralt muttered to him as they both walked towards the port.

The more he looked at the blaze, the more amazed he was with the power Triss possessed. Despite the rain that still poured out over the city of Novigrad, Triss had been able to summon a blaze so powerful, it set the entire Witch Hunters barracks aflame. The flames were burning high, and every last bit of the place was slowly falling apart. Triss, exhausted from her endeavor had said her goodbyes and teleported, but not before asking the two Witchers if within the next few days they could help her with a matter she had. After all the help she had given them in their short time in the city, they had both readily agreed. He owed her more than just his life now, she was the reason that they had gotten onto Ciri's trail.

He was excited to leave the barracks, and head back to the Rosemary and Thyme. He was yearning for a cold drink, food and to get into dry clothes. However, one of Dijkstra's thugs had accosted them as soon as they got into the streets and said that the man wanted a word with them at that exact moment. He of course along with Geralt hadn't been happy, but they saw no way around it. It would also give him the chance to tell Dijkstra about Whoreson and the Redanians, so he would bite the bullet and meet the man.

He winced at the cut on his shoulder as he tried to staunch the bleeding with his gloved hand as they walked down the pier. The rain had let up slightly but was still coming down on their heads in a downpour. His armor had been sufficiently soaked through, his hair dark and soaked sprawled over his head, his shoulder still bled, and he was craving a drink. So when Dijkstra sarcastically clapped when he saw them, he wasn't in the mood.

"Well, well, who do I spy? Geralt of Rivia and his child Witcher prodigy," The fat man said with a slow, drawn out clap.

He rolled his eyes as Geralt and he both stood in front of him, "Will you stop following us already," he hissed at the man.

Dijkstra snorted as he leaned up against the brick wall, "I will. Soon as you tell me where my treasure is."

Again he sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes, as Geralt spoke up to the man for them, "Menge and us we… didn't exactly see eye to eye.'

"How badly," Dijkstra asked quickly.

He brought his eyes over to the fire that could still be seen smoking from the Witch Hunters barracks and pointed to it, "That badly."

Dijkstra turned around and sighed with more annoyance then he himself ever could, "I suspected as much… my treasure in there? Burning with the Witch Hunters?"

"No… and twenty tons of gold is hard to miss," He said to the man with an eye roll.

Dijkstra's hands gripped on his arms as they folded, "I swear you're like a clone of Geralt, just as fucking sarcastic that's for sure. So you're telling me you came back empty handed?"

Normally being compared to Geralt would make him happy but hearing it from Dijkstra only made his nostrils flare. Thankfully Geralt spoke up, preventing him from saying anything rash, "First off you came to us. Second, we do got one thing. We found this key to a vault, found it on Menge's body."

He watched as Geralt handed Dijkstra the iron key they had found on Menge, as the fat man scowled.

"A vault? That I have to find myself? You've not made things easy on me… gimme that," He said, snatching the key from Geralt's hands.

He felt himself scoff at the former spy himself, "That's it? No sarcastic remark? No knee-slapping joke as we part?"

Dijkstra snorted again taking a step off the wall and towards the two of them again, "Oh you want to hear a joke? A real knee slapper? Well, I can think of one…. You both lied to me, funny isn't it? You both knew exactly who robbed me from the start. But you didn't deign to share the information with me."

His skin began to crawl as he tried to keep a straight face, he looked over to Geralt who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"How'd you find out," The older Witcher asked, keeping his arms crossed.

"I asked the questions here," Dijkstra shot back quickly.

With a growl he shook his head at the fat man, "Cut out your tough guy act, it doesn't work on either of us. We're all adult here, start acting like one."

He didn't know where the words had suddenly come from. It more than likely came from the mixture of annoyance, fatigue and need for a drink that ran through his body. He expected Dijkstra to become furious, but the fat man laughed and shook his head.

"Bahaha, I should have you both strangled, but I must admit," He said looking over to both Geralt and he, "I like you Geralt you tough bastard. And you, you may be a mouthy, cocky, arrogant and sarcastic little brat, but a small part of me respects it."

He could hear the sarcasm at his compliment but decided not to respond, not wanting to escalate the situation. Geralt however, decide to do what he did best. Responding to sarcasm with his own sarcasm.

"I like you too, you're a count without a county…. Now that we've professed out feelings for one another, mind telling us how you figured it out," Geralt asked the fat man.

Dijkstra smirked and shook his head, "Knew something was off from the start. You didn't haggle your pay. And then I heard from my sources Dandelion and Margrave Henkel rubbed elbows… wasn't hard to connect the dots… and now it's to settle things."

He almost went to reach for his sword when he saw the man take another step forward. Geralt quickly stepped to meet him.

"Is that a threat," The older Witcher asked, his tone slowly growing dark.

The former spy laughed again and shook his head, reaching down to his belt to lift a coin purse, "Quite the contrary. You helped me Witchers, so in spite of everything, you deserve a reward. I take it you finally have found out what happened to Dandelion?"

The fat man tossed Geralt the pouch of coins which the older Witcher caught. He carefully looked at the pouch, partly expecting it to be full of poisonous spiders. However, it contained real coin, Geralt quickly looked at him and nodded before strapping it to his belt. Sighing Dominik turned back to the fat man, remembering the only reason he had agreed to come meet.

"We found out what happened yeah but… actually wanted to ask you about something else," He started, getting the man to turn to him, "I investigated Whoreson's casino earlier today. Learned that Whoreson is working hand in hand with the Redanians. Was wondering if you knew anything about it."

Dijkstra to his surprise scoffed and rubbed his double chin, "Ha, explained why the bastard was confident enough to attack the rest of the big four… if he really has, he's even crazier than I thought."

"You have any contacts within the Redanians? Anyone that may be able to help us learn something," Geralt quickly asked after the man had finished.

The former spy looked over at Geralt and smirked, "I do yes. I believe you're actually well acquainted with him. Former commander of the Temarian blue stripes."

"Vernon Roche didn't know he was in the area," Geralt said as soon as Dijkstra had finished.

Geralt had told him about Vernon Roche, the man who helped him escape from the dungeons of La Valette castle, and who he had escaped Flotsam with. The two had gone through much together, and Geralt considered the man a friend. The fact Roche was also the commander of a special forces unit made him remember his own mother. She had been on of Queen Calanthe's best soldiers in Cintran special forces, often receiving missions from the queen herself. After he had been born, Queen Calanthe had awarded her several medals and awards for her years of service before she retired. His mother had then taught as many skills she learned a she could to him growing up. He learned to swim, make fires, weave grass and twigs, climb trees, read what direction he was going with the stars.

All were skills that had come in handy in his years alone. He would always have respect for special forces units, and people who fought for their country till the bitter end like his own mother and father had.

Dijkstra nodded to him, "He is… still fighting the good fight for Temaria. He's got contacts within the Redanian's who support him. He may know more about where Whoreson's hold up."

He felt his spirits slightly lift, despite the cold, wet feeling that ran through his body. Now, they were close to finding Whoreson, and Dandelion both. If Geralt and he could reach the both of them, it would finally be possible to figure out what Ciri had really been doing when she came to Novigrad.

Geralt nodded to Dijkstra, "Thanks for your help Dijkstra."

He could hear the slight bitterness in Geralt's voice. Dijkstra nodded to them both however, before responding with the same bitterness.

"Aye… now we're even, the three of us. Just one word of advice… never try to fool me again," The man said, before turning and walking back towards the street with his goons.

A large sigh of relief left his mouth as soon as he saw the man was out of earshot. The pain from his shoulder slowly was starting to spread through his upper body, as the blood slowly dried, sticking his armor even closer to his body. His hair was stuck out at all different angles from all the rain, he could smell himself he was sweating so much. His bones were aching, he had only been able to take off his armor for a few minutes back at the Rosemary earlier, and he was yearning to take it off again. He had fought since practically the moment he woke up that morning, the first fight being in nothing but a towel in a bathhouse. He needed a drink, food, a bath, and a fluffy pillow.

However, despite all the fatigue he felt, the day had been completely worth it, and he was ready to wake up at the crack of dawn again in the morning to continue. Geralt and he had managed to find out where Dandelion was being held, along with now having a way to find Whoreson Junior. In the end, it had all been worth it, because now they were drawing ever closer.

He looked over to Geralt, a slight smile on his face, "So, we got two leads and it seems like two options… what do you wanna do?"

Geralt smirked at him, "Feeling a little tired?"

"You kidding," He said, smirking and looking back to Geralt, "I'm fighting fit, I could go another three hours."

Geralt and he both laughed at his obvious lie. His adoptive father smiled down at him, "Well despite that, we should go rest up first. I'll admit I'm a little tired too," he started, looking out over the water lit by the moon, "As crazy as it sounds Dandelion is safe for another day or two, Menge can't go order his execution now until we find Dudu."

The rain slowly but surely started to come to a stop, as the water from the bay rippled, reflecting the beautiful half-moon that shining over it. Geralt turned back to him, the moonlight reflecting off the pommels of his swords now.

"Tomorrow we'll go see Roche, I told you about him before, he's a friend," The older Witcher started, "After that we'll hopefully be able to find Whoreson. After we get him… we'll go to Priscilla and figure out how to find Dudu."

He clapped his gloves hands together with a breath of relief, "Awesome, I love meeting your old friends. Now, can please get back to the Rosemary, I need a fucking drink."

Geralt laughed, coming over and putting a hand on his shoulder as they both walked up the pier.

"After all the work we did today, we both deserve it. We'll drink tonight, then tomorrow we get right back to work," The older Witcher said with a smile, as the rain finally came to a stop.

A/N: This may have been my favorite chapter to write so far. I had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to just have Dominik lose it, and go all out, unleashing all of the pent-up anger and rage he's had built up. I hope it came naturally and didn't come off force, that fight scene was one of my favorite to write so far. After seeing him react like this… what do you all think he'll do in the future when other situations like these come up?

I also loved writing the different Witcher styles. Of course these are my own interpretations of how each style would fight. I loved writing the part where Dominik has to switch back to the Wolf School form, because the Bear School form just wasn't working well enough, he hasn't had enough practice. Believe me we are going to see a LOT more of the Witcher schools.

So next chapter we meet up with Vernon Roche. I normally pick Iorveth in Witcher 2, but unfortunately he's not in Witcher 3 :/ which has always sucked for me, but I do like Roche as well. So I'm excited to bring him in.

After that chapter we finally will get another Ciri pov when Dominik and Geralt go find Whoreson Junior. Dominik killed Menge for only a vague threat towards Ciri… how will he react when he learns Whoreson actually attacked her? What about Ciri herself? What do you think she was thinking in Novigrad about the fact she only missed Dominik by mere days? Also… how do we think Dominik will be in the conversation with Radovid?

Thanks so much for the support everyone, it's truly amazing, and I can't believe that it's gotten this popular! Almost 50 follows and fav each is absolutely crazy, and I appreciate every single one of you, and hope you continue to love what I put out! Please leave a review dropping your predictions, I hope you all stay safe and healthy, see you all next time!