The Witcher: Through the Worlds
Chapter 26: An Eye for an Eye
Narrator: After careful investigating, Dominik and Geralt learned that I, the bard Dandelion had been captured by Caleb Menge, commander of the Temple Guard of Novigrad. In order to figure out my location however, the two Witchers along with their friend Triss Merigold, bravely entered the dangerous Witch Hunter headquarters. After learning from Menge, where I was being held, the Witchers sprang into action. The Young Wolf dueled and killed Menge, ending his reign of terror over Novigrad. The two Witchers had now learned my location, however they were also on the hunt for Whoreson Junior, to learn what he knew about Ciri and I. They learned that Whoreson was working with the Redanian army, so Dominik and Geralt decided to visit an old friend of Geralt's. Former commander of the Temarian Blue Stripes, and leader of the last remnants of the Temarian army. Vernon Roche.
He recognized the streets of Cintra in his dreams. It was bustling town square, the ringing of metal on metal, the smell of freshly baked bread, along with exotic flowers and spices. It was particularly crowded in his dream that night, as he saw his eleven-year-old self carefully maneuvering through the streets. The market square was particularly crowded that day, soldiers were scarce, and people were arguing left and right over the price of goods. The day was hot, the sun at its apex for the afternoon, so many people being in close proximity had him on edge. His smaller body was able to quickly maneuver over and under people. A few yelled as he had to step on their toes as he passed.
Behind him, gripping for dear life onto one of his hands was Bella, his younger sister. She had only been nine then, but the two of them could almost pass for twins. Her smaller nose, almond shaped bright green eyes, and long flowing mane of brown hair, if her hair was shorter and unruly like his they'd look the same. Normally growing up, his sister had been the most energetic, happy, and adventurous person he knew. She always was willing to go on adventures, tell jokes, and have a fun time. He remembered all the time she had dragged him along in the forest outside the city, searching for frogs, rabbits, and looking for other flowers. Combined with Ciri, she had been a bright spot on dark days for him always.
However, in the dream she didn't look like that happy, adventurous young girl. She looked down at the cobblestones, as his younger self kept her close, her face crestfallen. His younger self finally stepped out of a crowd of frantic people with a huff. He had come out to one stand, lined with bread, eggs, cheese, and other types of vegetables lined in baskets outside the wooden stall.
"Okay finally… stay close Bell, don't wonder off," His younger self said, looking down at his younger sister.
Bella didn't respond with words, as she gently let go of his hand, her eyes not leaving the cobblestone streets. He walked up towards the front of the stand just as a women left with two full sacks. His eleven-year old self was greeting with a grim smile by the old vendor, a balding man with grey hair and a long stringy beard. The older man gave the younger boy a small smile and pulled a sack from behind the standout for him.
"Aye lad, how you doing son, how's your mother," He said grimly, reaching over and handing younger Dominik the bag.
His younger self smiled and took the bag. Despite the mood running throughout the city, he tried to keep a smile.
"She's alright Mr. Lagdon, just sent Bella and I out for a few things," He said, picking up a few loafs of bread, and putting them into the bag.
Mr. Lagdon had been the vendor that sold them most of their food for years. He was a kind older man who always offered young Dominik and Bella extra loaves of bread, or even sweets when he had them. Normally he was always willing to share more then he had, however that day, under the scorching sun, when Dominik tried to take another loaf of bread the older man shook his head.
"Sorry lad can't let you take those today… new regulations. Limit per customer," He said, coming around from the stand and taking the loaf back from his hands.
Shocked he looked back up at the older man, "Who said that?"
Mr. Lagdon sighed and placed the bread back into the basket for future customers in the day before looking back down at him, "New orders from the castle. Until the Queen and the army return, we have to limit what gets distributed. Need to make sure there's enough for everyone."
He remembered the day in the dream now. It was during the few weeks after Queen Calanthe and his father had gone to fight the Nilfgaardeans. The army had left a few weeks prior and he remembered the time vividly. He hadn't seen Ciri in weeks, the castle being on lockdown, only letting in a select few. His father wasn't there to take him inside anymore, and despite being the princess, Ciri didn't have the power to let him come visit her. He had been spending his days at home, playing and keeping Bella company. Her mother had been called on some emergency duties, helping to keep peace and escort refugees from the surrounding countryside.
He was worried himself about his father of course, but he remembered at the time, he was also confident, confident that Queen Calanthe and his father would smash the Nilfgaardeans and be back before they knew it. His younger sister was becoming a wreck without their father being there, and their mother being busy. So, despite the fact that he missed Ciri terribly, and wanted his father to quickly come back, he was staying strong for Bella's sake. His mother had often did things like she had that day, leaving them coin to go and get food while she was off on business.
He sighed looking up and nodding at Mr. Lagdon, "I understand, thanks Mr. Lagdon."
Reaching down to his belt he pulled the coin pouch his mother had left them. He poured a few coins out into his palm and handed them to the older man. Lagdon smiled down grimly at him and pocketed the coins.
"Thank you, lad… stay safe, gods look down upon the queen and your father in this time," The older man said with sincerity.
He nodded to the shopkeeper, and turned, looking for his sister. Bella had only taken a few steps from him. She was standing just outside one smaller building, which he recognized as the herbalists and flower shop. His sister was wearing a light blue top, with black trousers, her long brown hair cascaded down her back, as she stared into the glass display windows outside the shop. He walked up next to her and saw their reflection shimmer in the glass, as Bella couldn't tear her eyes off a patch of yellow daisies that were on display.
They were some of Bella's favorites he knew. His younger sister had always been fond of exotic things, flowers from Toussaint and Nazair, the exotic and fancy pastries their father would bring back from the castle. She would always tell him how in the future she would travel to those places, seeing firsthand where all the exotic flowers, spices and animals came from. At that moment however, she didn't have the same gleam in her eyes as she normally did when she looked at the flower shop.
He put a hand on his younger sisters shoulder and smiled down at her, "I got a few coins left, do you want those?"
He pointed to the patch of yellow daises that were on display. Bella however slowly shook her head and looked up at him, her own bright green eyes meeting up with his.
"Dominik… is father going to be back soon," She asked him slowly, her voice quivering.
The question had caught him off guard. At that time their father had been gone for over a week, and news from the front lines became more and more scarce. Tensions within the city itself had been rising. Multiple times he had tried to get into the castle to see Ciri, but every time the guardsmen denied him, stating the orders from the Queen for the castle to be on locked applied to everyone except essential nobility, no matter if Ciri asked for him or not. Bella and he would take walks to take their mind off things, he would tell her funny stories of things Ciri and he got up too and help her tend to the small garden she kept outside their house.
He did everything he could to take her mind off things, so in the moment he knelt down and smiled at her.
"Of course he will," He said to her, a small smile coming to his face, "Father and Queen Calanthe are going to beat back the Nilfgaardeans. I bet there'll even be a big feast afterwards. I'll convince father to bring you, you can come play with Ciri and me."
A small smile crossed his younger sisters face for a moment, but it quickly fell. She looked back over to the flowers behind the glass, and then back to him.
"But… but what if they don't…" She said in a small voice, "What… what if they lose, and the Black Ones come here?"
A small chill ran down his spine. The idea that Queen Calanthe and his father would be defeated by the Nilfgaardeans had never crossed his mind. Queen Calanthe had spent years smashing back revolting kingdoms and provinces, she was the lioness, of course she was going to win. Especially because she had his father with him. The bronze ring his father had given him, it still dangled around his neck. The reminder of what his destiny was, but at that time he didn't think it would come to pass for some time.
He sighed and put his small hand on Bella's shoulder, "Don't worry. Father and Queen Calanthe WILL beat them back. And if somehow, they don't and the Black Ones do come… don't worry, I'll protect you. I won't let them get their hands on you."
Bella closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to prevent tears from falling, "You can't protect me," She said, taking a step back.
A small knife was almost plunged into his heart, but he tried to laugh off the comment, "Ha, why can't I? I know I haven't gotten all that good in fathers lessons yet, but I still can-."
"No…. you can't," Bella said again, turning away from him now to look back at the flowers, he head falling again, "You can't protect me… because you need to protect Ciri. She's all you ever talk about… you love her, you have to protect her."
The words pierced through his young heart at that moment. He of course was in love with Ciri, even then despite how he wouldn't admit it until much later. His father had told him his destiny was to keep her safe, to protect her. He wasn't going to because of destiny, he was going to keep Ciri safe because he cared for her, held great love for her. However, the notion that he wouldn't protect his sister at all costs as well was ridiculous to him. He would protect them both.
Sighing he walked over to Bella and turned her to face him, meeting her eyes with his, "Bell… just because I'm protecting Ciri, doesn't mean that I won't protect you. You're my little sister, I'll protect you, I won't let anything happen to Ciri AND I won't let anything happen to you."
Bella shifted on her feet, before finally looking back up at him, "You promise?"
"I promise," He said, pulling his younger sister in for a hug. Bella wrapped her smaller arms around his waist and squeezed him.
"But you lied to her," A deep dark woman's voice rang through his brain.
His head shot around, and he blinked, suddenly the dream completely changed. The bright, vibrant colorful day turned to one of darkness. The smell of bright flowers was replaced by the smell of burning corpses, The moon was full, but the fires in the streets burned holes into his eyes. Dead men, women and children all littered the streets. The stench of death and decays were overpowering. Steel rang on steel, people screamed, pleaded for their life. He heard Nilfgaardeans shouting in their language, laughing as they slaughtered the residents.
However, all he could see in the dream was himself and his family. His mother had just gotten them to a large sewer grate near the outside walls of the city. Her long blonde hair was caked with blood, her vibrant green eyes awash with fear. Next to her, he saw his younger self, clutching onto Bella's wrist, a dagger in his other hand, as he tried to shield his sister from the flames, covering her eyes so she couldn't see the atrocities. One soldier came rushing towards them as his mother tried to pry open the grate.
Bella screamed when she saw the man, and she was paralyzed by the fear. His mother however heard their attacker. She whirled around, knocking aside the mans blade, and jabbing her own through his abdomen, before turning back to her two children. She dropped her sword and went to yank on the sewer grate again this time with both hands, finally she pulled hard enough and it swung open.
The stench of rot and sewage could be smelt in the pipes, but he knew that they would lead outside the cities walls. His younger self closed his eyes, and he knew that he had been trying to block it all out. He was convinced it was a dream, his father and Queen Calanthe could never be defeated by the Nilfgaardeans, they would never dare attack Cintra. However, when he stepped over the corpse of Mr. Lagdon in the road, he knew that it was real. Ciri was stuck in the castle, as was his father and the Queen. He wanted to do something, go to try and save her, but his legs were unmoving, Bella stuck to his arm.
Their mother whirled around and picked up her sword from the mud, before grabbing both of Dominik's shoulders.
"You take your sister, follow this tunnel. It'll lead you outside the walls, wait in the outskirts around the lake, do you understand," She hissed at him, her voice full of desperation.
"But… but what about father," He yelled at his mother, his voice beginning to quiver, "What about father and Ciri, they're both in the castle still!"
A loud scream was heard from down the street as attack hounds mutilated a mans corpse, as the Nilfgaardean soldiers stood and laughed. His mother looked back down to him; both her hands still locked on his shoulders in an iron grip.
"I'm going to go get them both, and we'll follow right behind," She said, hugging him tightly around his neck, before she looked down to Bella, "Bella, you stay with your brother, he'll protect you and get you out of here, do you understand?"
Bella shook her head, tears streaming down her young face, she finally detached herself from his arm and hugged their mother, "Mother you can't… no… please don't leave us."
Their mother shook her head and quickly kissed her daughters forehead, "It'll be alright dear. Stick with Dominik, he'll keep you safe. Ciri, your father and I will be right behind you both."
Watching the dream back now, he could hear the lie in his mothers voice. She knew she wouldn't survive that night, and more than likely their father wouldn't either. He knew what her mission was now when she left them. Get to their father, get Ciri away from the city, and protect he and Bella as well. His mother knew she'd die that night, but she wasn't going to make her death easy on their enemies. That was the kind of woman his mother was, the kind of attitude she instilled in him. Never stop until the ones you loved are safe, even if it costs you your life.
Sofia looked down and smiled at both her children, wrapping her arms around them both, before shoving them towards the sewage pipe.
"GO," She shouted to them, as she tightened the grip on her longsword.
"Bell come on we need to go," He urged his sister, helping her up into the entrance to the pipe.
Bella was unmoving, she looked back towards their mother, crying and shouting for her. Their mother made it a few steps back towards the road before he heard the soldiers. Shouting in Nilfgaardean, a group of five armored soldiers all cornered their mother. Sofia didn't dare look back at her children, not wanting the soldiers attention brought to them. So she fought. She wasn't wearing armor, only trousers, boots and a shirt, but she was more than a match for the soldiers. She killed one quickly, picking up his blade, spinning and parrying blows with two swords in her hands. Her movements were so swift and precise Dominik almost thought she could be a Witcher. He knew she wasn't however, because one managed to cut her across the back of her leg and she fell to one knee.
His mother didn't relent, and despite them both knowing they needed to go, they couldn't take their eyes off her. Bella was unmoving, watching as their mother cut through soldiers after soldier, the sounds of screams, clanging steel, explosions and crackling fire couldn't drown out their mothers grunts of efforts as she finally cut down the last soldier of the squad, her arm bleeding as she nearly keeled over.
She looked up and met her children's eyes one last time, she was about to shout something to them. It never came out because that was when the arrow hit her in the dead center of her chest. His blood turned to ice as he looked to the left, the black knight in the winged helmet with a bow in his hands was busy knocking another arrow. He knew he had to get Bella out, he went to turn to her, grab her and push her further down the pipe, but his younger sister screamed.
"NO, NO MOTHER," She shouted, darting out into the streets.
"BELLA STOP NO," He yelled trying to run and grab her arm.
He missed her, she had just gotten out of his reach, and his younger sister scrambled over to their mothers now lifeless body. The initial shock wore off, his younger self looked down to see the knight knocking another arrow, taking aim towards Bella. He ran, moving as fast as his smaller legs could take him. His legs didn't move fast enough. The second arrow came, and just as he reached her, it pierced his younger sisters shoulder. Bella flew back, smacking her head on the ground as she rolled over.
"NO BELL, BELLA," He screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing himself onto the ground to her side.
He saw the arrow sticking out of his sisters shoulder, her green eyes shut, her hair strewn about the ground. She was unmoving, his hands shook, and when he looked down, the blood of his younger sister was stained into his skin.
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His head shot up from the bed, his eyes wide open and so dry it hurt him to blink. Breathing heavy, he looked around the room, partly expecting to find himself back in the streets of Cintra amongst corpses. He wasn't however, Cintra had burned long ago, along with his mother and sister both being dead. His body ached and a cold sweat ran down his chest and stomach. The scars along his chest and back both seemed to flare up at the same time, as his entire body shivered.
He sighed and whirled his feet to the side of the bed, his soles hitting the cold wooden floor sent a chill up his spine. The swallow pendant and his Witcher medallion both clanged against his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. It had been years since he had nightmares of Cintra, not since Kaer Morhen, before Yennefer initially enchanted his pendant. His quest to find Ciri seemed determined to remind him of all the failures of his past, not just to the woman herself.
It also reminded him of his first failure, the failure to follow his mothers orders, and save his younger sister.
"I'm so… so sorry Bell…" He said quietly to himself, moving his legs to finally stand up.
He looked out of his window and saw that the sun was beginning to dawn. It was first light, he had planned on sleeping later, what with all he had done the day before. However, after the nightmare he had no intentions on sleeping again. He looked over to the dresser, and saw his sheathed sword laying there, along with his trousers and gloves. His armor lay out on a chair, with his boots by the door.
Sighing, he went about getting his armor on for the day. It was too important of a day for him to let nightmares of his past haunt him all day. The little sleep he got was certainly going to affect him through the day, but he also knew he needed to power through it. He pulled on the white top for under his armor, before pulling his arms through the sleeves of the armor itself. He rolled his shoulders and swung his sword around his back, feeling his hands begin to shake.
He looked down at his gloved hands, and for a split second he saw it again. His younger selves small, bloody hands as he knelt over the bodies of his sister and mother.
"Dammit," He muttered to himself, closing his fist and rubbing both hands together.
His mind went a mile a minute. Every detail of the night coming back to him. The arrow smashing into Bella's shoulder, his mother fighting off an entire squad of Nilfgaardeans. The knight in the winged helmet chasing him through the streets, before turning his attention to Ciri. All the while the only home he ever knew was being burned to the ground.
Balling his hands into fists he looked back out the window overlooking Novigrad.
"We can either run from the past… or we can learn from it," He said slowly to himself, before turning around and looking down at the swallow, "I will not fail you, not like I failed them…"
Finding Ciri, following the leads they had, saving her from the Wild Hunt, that would be his redemption. His redemption for failing his mother, his sister, his father, and Ciri the first time. With one last steadying breath, he tightened the strap of his sword across his back, before walking towards the exit to his room.
He wasn't going to run from the past anymore, he was going to learn from it.
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The day thankfully had no rain so far. His armor was still damp from being out and fighting in the torrential downpour at the Witch Hunter Barracks the night before. The location that the Temerian hideout had been located in was well concealed. However, Geralt was easily able to find tracks and traces of men, and those tracks eventually led them to where the hideout was. Clop had seemed to sense his anxiousness, and his fatigue, because his loyal horse neighed up at him as he slowly slid off his back.
"I'm alright buddy, promise," He said, patting the horses mane as he tied the reins to a tree next to Geralt and Roach.
"You sure," Geralt asked him, "You seem like you're about to pass out."
The sun shined in patches through the trees and reflected off Geralt's face. Sighing he looked out over the beautiful fields of wheat and flowers they had passed. Despite the coffee he chugged before they left the Rosemary and Thyme, and the large breakfast he ate with Faram and Zoltan, nothing seemed to lift his fatigue. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying with everything he could to wake himself up further. Nothing worked. He blinked again, and the beautiful fields of wheat with the sun shining overhead, for a split second turned into the dark dank streets of Cintra, bloodied mangled corpses strewn about, fires burning everywhere, soldiers screaming as they killed the man and raped the women.
He stumbled for a moment, blinking again before the wheat field returned.
Sighing he looked down at his gloved hands again, wondering if he removed them, would he still see the blood. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Geralt next to him, a worried look on his face.
"Maybe you should take the day off, head back and get some sleep. It's obvious you're not in the right frame of mind right now… nightmares," His adopted father asked him carefully.
He sighed and turned to the older Witcher, the sun shining between them both, "Yeah… nightmares. Was back in Cintra…"
A small cool breeze blew through his hair. Geralt nodded and met his eyes, a look of understanding in them, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"
Quickly he nodded, turning back to the older Witcher, "Yeah I'll be alright. This'll take my mind off things, come on let's go find Roche."
He walked past Geralt who sighed and caught up with him. The two walked under the tree's towards where the Temerian fighters were hiding. The dream couldn't stop playing in his head, his sister dead in his arms, his mother fighting to her last breath. He remembered exactly what had happened next that night. For what felt like hours he fled from the knight in the winged helmet, until he finally found a place to hide. The knight looked for him, but soon found a new target.
He remembered watching his father and one of his knights emerge from the secret exit to the castle, Ciri closely besides them. The knight took Ciri onto a horse and tried to flee as his father fought off advancing Nilfgaardean troops. The man didn't relent, cutting down every black one that made their way towards him, until no more stood alive. One had managed to wound him enough however, where he lay dying in the streets. Only minutes before he had seen his mother and sister both killed, so he tried with everything he could to staunch his fathers bleeding.
It wasn't enough, and the last words his father spoke to him, still replayed in his head to that very moment. The princess… Ciri… you MUST find her…. Find her… and keep her safe. Those were the last words Gregory of Cintra had spoken. The last words his father had said to him, were orders to go and keep Ciri safe. It was what he had been trying to do since then, and for most of the time since, he had been failing in that endeavor. He wanted to protect Ciri because he loved her, that was the most honest truth. However, it would also honor his fathers last wish.
He hoped that following the leads they had that day, actively trying to fulfill his fathers last wish, would take his mind off the dreams.
The entrance to the Temarian hideout was wedged between two small hills, a perfect hideout, only one entrance that was hidden, and inaccessible from above. He carefully followed behind Geralt, the sun shining off the older Witchers swords. When the two of them finally got to the entrance, one portly man stepped in front of them, wearing a breastplate, a bow and quiver on his back. He could see the white Temarian lilies on his undershirt, and he could tell they were in the right place.
"What do you two want," The man said in a deep voice, holding his hands up to stop them.
He could see the soldiers moving in the cavern behind the man and was almost tempted to just go around. However, he was sympathetic to the Termarians cause, and didn't think barging into their camp would make a good first impression. Anyone who was trying to take the fight to the black ones, other then of course Radovid, he had respect for. There had been times when he was younger, where he dreamed of, he and Ciri gathering a force of soldiers together to go and reclaim Cintra from Nilfgaard, raising the golden lions over a blue field once again.
However they had been the dreams of a child, and while a free Cintra was something he would be happy to see again, he had much more important things he wanted.
Geralt peaked behind the man, "We're here looking for Roche."
"Nobody here by that name," The man said quickly, as if he was rehearsed to do so.
Rolling his eyes he looked over at the man, "We know he's here. We're not dumb, what are you trying to pass for, a group of berry pickers?"
The man narrowed his eyes, "No we're… birdwatching?"
"The swords, spears and bows incase a wyvern attacks and interrupts your watching," He quickly said again, feeling his annoyance rise.
It wasn't his intention to anger anyone, however as he expected, the lack of sleep had really been getting to him. He crossed his arms and the man looked at him in annoyance and seemed like he was about to say something, before a booming voice from inside cut him off.
"Are you blind Hortensio? That's Geralt, old friend of mine, let the two of them through," It said, as he could finally see the source of the voice.
It had to be Vernon Roche, because Hortensio sneered at them, but backed off right away. Roche was a taller man with an aura of command to him. He could see a sword at the mans hip, and a large crossbow on his back. He wore a set of blue armor that he had seen on Temerian soldiers before in his travels, flowing down around his ankles, but offering very good protection. A black hat covered his head and shoulders, as he smirked at the two Witchers, gesturing for them both to follow.
Walking closely behind Geralt he saw more of the guerilla fighters camp. It seemed to be relatively well stocked, beds, cots, swords and arrows seemed to be plentiful. Soldiers rushed around, training, sharpening swords, coming in and out with more food and supplies. The two of them followed Roche to a roaring campfire in the middle of the cave, before the man finally turned back to Geralt.
"Geralt of Rivia, safe and sound," The man said with a smile, holding out his hand.
Geralt smiled and shook the commanders hand, "Vernon Roche, Temaria's last hope."
Roche scoffed and shook his head, "You can jest all you want. Temaria will rise again…. And you, don't believe I know who you are."
It took him a second to realize Roche was addressing him. The man spoke with such command he felt himself stand back at attention. He nodded to him, "You don't, Dominik of Cintra, Geralt's told me about how the two of you met."
A look of realization dawned on the man's face as he nodded his head, "Ahh yes, I remember Geralt mentioning you after Loc Muinne… said he got you from the fires of Cintra."
He looked at Geralt and he understood why the older Witcher had bent the truth. The knowledge that Ciri was alive was a close guarded secret after Cintra. Geralt didn't want it getting out that the heir to the city, and a child of the elder blood had survived. So, in the short time the two of them traveled before, he would tell people it was only Dominik he had gotten from Cintra. People did eventually learn that Ciri was alive when she came back to the continent, but she had left again so soon that she was now forgotten by most, and those few who knew she was alive, thought she was never coming back.
They were wrong, she had come back, and she was in danger. So he and Geralt had been very careful only to mention her to people they could trust, or already knew.
He nodded to confirm what Roche had said, "Yeah, saved my life that day. I heard you commanded the blue stripes. My mother was actually a member of the Cintran special forces unit, under Queen Calanthe's personal command."
Roche tilted his head, "Truly? They were a legendary group. A damn travesty what ended up happening in Cintra. The Black Ones attacked so suddenly Foltest didn't have time to send help. My condolences for any loss you suffered," the man said, holding out his hand.
A small smile managed to come to his face. He reached out and strongly shook Roche's hand, before pulling back and looking at the man over the burning fire.
"Thank you… I've been wondering though, what happened to the army," He asked the man, the question eating at his mind, "Information was scarce, but last I heard Natalis was trying to stop the Black One's along the Dol Blathanna-Mount Carbon line?"
During the last few months, after Nilfgaard had invaded the north again he had been trying to keep up with the wars status. He knew that he wanted to avoid Nilfgaardean occupied lands, so he was sure to keep a close ear out for any information concerning its on-goings. Despite his distaste for Radovid, he wanted the Black Ones to be beat back. It had been too late for Cintra, for his home, but he wouldn't have wished what happened to him that night upon even his worst enemy. Until Ciri had been lost to him, it was the worst pain he ever experienced in his life. His home burned to the ground.
Witchers were neutral on principle, this was something Geralt and his Uncle Vesemir pounded into his head. However, it was a rule he could never follow, especially when the war had recently begun. There were times when he strayed a little too far south and happened upon a group of Nilfgaardeans who would be harassing an old merchant on the road or trying to raise a village. He would help when he could, and then quickly leave, not wanting to draw himself further into the conflict and take his mind off his true goal of finding Ciri.
Roche sighed and crouched down, tossing more wood onto the crackling fire. The orange flames sprouted up, reflecting off the mans face.
"That's true… we were to hold them there…. And we did. For three days before they broke through and smashed us to splinters," The man said, standing back up and turning to Geralt and he, "I fled towards Novigrad with the remnants of Natalis's army. Radovid had been amassing a force, pledged to fight for a free north. But… he proved no better than Emhyr, so I brought my men here, and waged my own fight."
He gave the man a respectful nod. Temaria truly was no more, he saw the death and destruction the Black Ones had been bringing across the country. The Nilfgaardeans valued order above all else, it was in their own humble opinion, that everywhere would be better off under their control. They actually believed that they were doing everyone a service, as they burned villages, pillaged homesteads and raped across the entire country.
And the man in charge of it all, the man who was ordering all the death and destruction, was the father of the woman he loved. He was Ciri's father, and he wanted to use her as a pawn in some sick twisted game. That would never happen so long as he lived.
The thoughts of Ciri helped him remember why Geralt and he were really there. Geralt managed to speak up before him.
"As good as it is to see you Vernon, we need to ask you something," The older Witcher started, getting Roche to turn to him, "We're looking for Wiley, Whoreson Junior."
Hearing the man's name again made his blood boil. He had already killed Menge, and soon he would deal with Whoreson as well, both evil men, men who'd harmed his friends. One of the two leads they were following was already solved. They could free Dandelion from Temple Isle, however first they needed to find Whoreson, and figure out what had happened the night Dandelion was captured, and if Ciri really had been with him.
Roche scoffed and shook his head, "I've heard of him, but I don't know why you think he's be in my camp."
Quickly he stepped forward and shook his head, "We don't but… we heard some birds chirping. They said you both have the support of the Redanians. Geralt and I were hoping you had someone we can talk to, someone who may know where they're hiding him."
The sun shined through the caves entrance, and hit Roche's face as he sighed, "These birds… you must point them out to me when we're done, so I can silence them. However, you're both in luck. I was just getting ready to go meet my Redanian contact at a local chess club. Ride with me, and you can ask him about Whoreson."
A rush of relief ran through his chest as he nodded his thanks to the man. Geralt nodded and held out his hand, shaking Roche's again.
"Knew we could count on you, thanks Vernon," The older Witcher said with a smile.
A new sigh of relief escaped him. The trail to follow Ciri in Velen had been relatively straight forward. After finding Kiera, the Crones, and the Baron it had been easy to follow Ciri's trail to Novigrad, and they already knew what she was trying to do. She had been trying to lift a curse, and was looking for himself, Geralt and Yennefer for help. However, what did lifting a curse have to do with robbing a vault? Why did out of all the people in Novigrad, she and Dandelion manage to run afoul of Whoreson Junior?
With them now receiving help from Roche, he was hoping he'd have a chance to ask the man soon.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Something's not right… way too many soldiers for a meeting with a spy," Dominik whispered to the two men besides him as they walked.
The ride on their mounts to the chess club nearby hadn't taken them very long. The sun was still up, but slowly beginning its descent. Hot rays beat down on his neck as he ran his hand through his hair nervously. They had gotten to the chess club, expecting nobody except a slippery Redanian spy, however instead they had gotten what looked like almost an entire company. Horses and men were all lined up outside the building, all of them standing at attention as if their lives depended on it. Every sense in his body was going off at once, he didn't have Witcher Senses, but over the year he had developed the ability to tell when a situation seemed off.
Now was one of those moments.
He walked besides Geralt and Roche as they slowly walked towards the front door. Every soldier had their eyes trained on the three of them, more particularly their weapons. His hand twitched as Roche slowly reached for the door.
"You're right… slippery bastard never had men with him," Roche said, as he was the first to enter the building.
It was a modest sized establishment, multiple tables with chess boards set out, along with shelves of dusty old books, and a counter to the left that served drinks. The dank, musty air attacked his nose as he scanned the room with Geralt. The entire club was empty, not a single patron or employee, only one singular man sitting at a table. Dominik could recognize him from the posters of propaganda he had seen over the last few months.
The tall, tan bald man wore a golden crown over his head, with long red robes, the Redanian coat of arms implanted onto the front. King Radovid of Redania, the man responsible for his friends such as Triss, Kiera, and all other mages being forced to go into hiding. The screams of the mage and doppler burning at the stake rang through his head. He watched as the man played chess against himself, knocking over his own pieces, and he could see the madness in his beady eyes.
He had met the ruler to the south, and seen the pure cold, dark, calculated evil in his eyes. The ruler to the north however, his eyes were full of fire, burning madness that was slowly and slowly eating away at him. He could see the fire of burning pyres in the mans eyes, the pleasure that he gained from merely taking a chess piece and knocking it to the ground was all he needed to see to realize the mans madness.
Geralt quickly looked over to him, the slits in his yellow eyes urging him to keep his mouth shut. He realized that he had already pissed off Emhyr in the south, pissing off Radovid in the north wasn't going to be good for him. Emhyr at the least needed him for something, there would be nothing stopping Radovid from having him detained and burned at the stake the next morning.
The King of Redania's eyes turned and he looked directly at Geralt. He remembered what his adoptive father told him had happened the last time he was in Radovid's presence. It had been when the man mutilated Philippa Eilhart. Geralt had a history with the man, and he wasn't sure if it was good or not.
"They say it's the game of kings. That chess teaches one to think strategically," The mad king started, looking between the three of them and the game board, "What a load of rubbish! Both sides have identical pieces, the rules stay the same. How does this mirror real life? Witcher… do you know why I play chess?"
Radovid's beady dark brown eyes turned to Geralt, and so did Dominik. He could feel the madness rolling off the man's tongue, he spoke in such a chilling tone, he felt his legs begin to wobble. Geralt carefully took a step towards the king, and he had to resist the urge to pull his adopted father back.
"To kill time," Geralt said, a slight bit of sarcasm in his tone.
He sucked in a breath, worried he'd have to intervene, but Radovid simply shook his head, gesturing for Geralt to sit. The older Witcher did, and Dominik looked over to Roche and saw a just as baffled a look on the Temarian commanders face.
Radovid let out a small laugh, and it sent another chill through the building. It was cold, despite the sun shining through the window. The mad Redanian king looked one more time down at the chessboard, and then back to Geralt.
"I barely have time to squander, let alone kill," The man said, peering back down at the chess pieces in front of him, "I play chess to reveal the games secrets. Blood thumps within every chessmen. You need only listen- and you will hear it. A heart pumping with life. I take a pawn- and hear flesh being rent. I win a piece- and I hear the screams from the depths of its bowels."
Geralt for a moment looked over at him and Roche, and all he could do was shake his head. The more the man talked, the clearer his madness became, and it could be easily seen that he was descending deeper and deeper into it. It was only the third ruler he had ever met in his life. He remembered that faithful night when he was eleven and he met Queen Calanthe. No ruler, baron, or lord he ever met had carried herself with such grace. The Queen was confident, proud, and knew how strong she was. It was an attitude she had passed down to Ciri, these traits in Ciri were something he had always been drawn to. Calanthe was stern and dealt with threats accordingly, however, she also had a kind side, and was approachable. The Queen had been his fathers best friend for a reason.
Whenever he went to the castle to see Ciri and he saw the queen she'd always say, 'Keeping an eye on Ciri for me?'. They were some of the best moments of his life. He'd always smile and nod, promising the ruler he was, before Ciri would roll her eyes saying she protected him as well. He remembered once when he was at the castle with Ciri, he had gotten lost in the halls while the two of them played hide and seek. One of the palace guards who didn't recognize him, had snatched him up by the shirt when he went to search near the Queen's room. He almost cried out for his father when the Queen herself happened upon them. She ordered him to be released, and he thought for a moment he was going to be punished.
But Queen Calanthe had simply smiled, asking him if he had managed to find Ciri yet. She helped him find her, and reminded him to not lose her, before leaving Ciri and he to play more. That had been eleven years ago, and in those eleven years he had never met a better ruler, a better queen, king, lord, lady, baron or baroness that he admired more then Queen Calanthe.
He would do everything to protect Ciri for her, and for Ciri herself.
Radovid, was on the complete other end of the spectrum of Queen Calanthe. The king looked up at Geralt again with his fiery eyes.
"I want to break the chessmen open, squeeze the truth from them," The man said quickly, his eye narrowing back towards Geralt, "Do you understand now?"
Geralt responded the same way he always did, with sarcasm.
"Yeah…. I think I do," His adopted father said, a hint of sarcasm to his tone.
Radovid clearly wasn't pleased with the older Witchers answer. The King of Redania sneered and shot up to his feet, with Geralt quickly doing the same. He could see the temper flare in the mans eyes, the temper that had burned hundreds, possibly even thousands of innocent mages, herbalist and alchemists at the stake. The man shook his head, scoffing at Geralt.
"You just say yes to amuse me…. That's not important now," Radovid hissed, turning over to face Roache and he, "Geralt I know, Roche I know, but you…. Who are you young man."
He felt his skin crawl like it was infested with bugs as Radovid came to meet his eyes. A smell of burning soot hit his nose as the man stared into his green eyes. He could see Geralt behind him, shooting him a look, urging him to keep his cool, and don't say anything stupid.
He let out a breath, and finally met the King's eyes, "Dominik… Dominik of Cintra."
At the mention of Cintra, Radovid scoffed and paced away for a moment, before turning back to face him again, "My, my, my… Cintra? Been a while since I've heard of anything there. Were you there for Calanthe's downfall?"
Again he looked and saw Geralt slowly shake his head. He felt his fist curl below him, as he slowly nodded towards the King of Redania, "Yes…I was there when the city fell."
Radovid laughed again, looking at him with a smirk as he rested his hands on his hips, "Bah, Calanthe's arrogance knew no bounds. Refusing aid from all who offered. Look what all that arrogance got her? She led the city to its own downfall."
"Queen Calanthe was one of the greatest rulers the Northern Realms have ever seen," He said quickly, before he could stop himself, "Cintra was the jewel of the North for her entire reign!"
A terse silence hung over the room, and he knew he failed at controlling his words yet again. He saw Geralt's hands twitch, ready to reach for steel at any second. Radovid however, looked more amused then offended. He paced back up to Dominik, getting closer to his face to meet his eyes again.
"The ignorance of common folk…. If she was such a great ruler, then how come her city burned to the ground," The man asked, pacing in front of him, keeping his beady eyes glued to him, "How come the Black Ones now control her city and province? There are songs dedicated to her downfall, and the burning of her city."
He moved his hands quickly behind his back and felt them ball up again. Quickly he shook his head at the King, remembering the facts he'd learned about the massacre.
"There was a Nilfgaardean spy in the court, they were feeding Emhyr information, they caught her off guard," he said, trying to keep his voice from rising any further.
Radovid scoffed a laugh again, "The Nilfgaardeans had been camped near Cintra for weeks. My father and the other northern kings would have had plenty of time to send help if she had contacted us, and was willing to negotiate," The man said smugly, stopping in front of him again, "But she didn't. She thought herself invincible, her arrogance knowing no bounds. Cintra died… all for her vanity."
The words had cut through him, and every bit of him wanted to swing his fist forward at that moment. He saw Roche and Geralt both staring at him, waiting for some type of response. Radovid on the other hand, smirked at him one more time, before walking back towards the chess table. He let out a deep breath and tried to control the shaking of his hands. It wasn't true, it wasn't the fault of anyone that Cintra had burned, not the fault of anyone except for the Black One's. Geralt gave him a calming look, but his blood continued to boil. The hairs on his arms still stood up, and his fists stayed balled behind his back.
Radovid finally let out a sigh, and smirked again, this time looking at Roach, "Now, Roach, tell me why did you bring these two here?"
The Temarian commander took a step between Geralt and he, meeting the kings eyes, "I believe it's best that they tell you."
He let out another deep breath, remembering the reason they had come. The sooner they got the information about Whoreson, the sooner they could leave. And it also meant the sooner he could get back to searching for Ciri, a way to honor Queen Calanthe's memory.
Geralt stepped forward to answer for the both of them, "We're looking for Cyprian Wiley, Whoreson Junior. We know Redania supports him."
"Aye, and why do you seek him," Radovid asked, the sun shining through the window, casting the kings shadow over them.
"It's personal," Geralt said quickly, wanting the conversation to end as quick as he did.
Radovid to his very little credit, simply shrugged, sitting back down in the seat across from the chessboard.
"Very well, I won't pry. I've placed Junior in a mansion in Oxenfurt. They won't let you in unannounced," The King explained, looking up to meet the two Witchers eyes, "So you must tell them you've come about the new whores. Junior constantly requests fresh women… I heard he doesn't treat them well."
Hearing the words sent another chill down his spine, as his fist curled into a ball yet again. The thought of Ciri being near a man like that, it nearly sent him in a fury right then. If she had been around a man that treated women so poorly, that even Radovid sounded appalled by the treatment, he knew it had to be something unspeakably terrible, what Whoreson did to the women he captured. He looked over to Geralt and nodded at his adopted father, as the older Witcher looked back to Radovid.
"We appreciate the gesture, your majesty," Geralt said, trying to put some form of thankfulness into his words.
Radovid seemed pleased, as he smirked at the older Witcher, "A king should be severe to his enemies, and generous to his friends. Apart from which I'll expect you to return the favor Geralt."
The words made his stomach churn, thinking of what Radovid could possibly want from Geralt. It couldn't be anything good, he knew that, it would probably have to do with hunting down a rouge mage, he doubted that Radovid would personally worry about any monster troubles. However, he knew that they couldn't think about that now. Ciri and Dandelion were what was important, and now they had the location of Whoreson Junior, and could finally pay the man a visit. It pained him that the information had to locate one madman, had to be given to them by another madman.
However something Triss had said the night before, right before they had entered the Witch Hunter barracks had stuck with him. Ciri- she is what matters now. And she been right. Ciri was in danger, and they all needed to do their part if they were going to save her and stop the Wild Hunt. If it meant accepting help from people, he'd normally not associate himself with, then he would make that sacrifice.
Sacrificing his pride, taking Radovid's jabs, and accepting the mad kings help in the end had led him to another clue. It had been worth it to find Junior's location.
Because now, Geralt and he could go and finally pay the man a visit. Whoreson was going to tell them what he knew about Ciri, one way or another.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Radovid is descending further and further into madness as I see it," Roche said, as the three of them all walked further away from the chess club.
The sun was still high in the air, but soon it would continue its descent, bringing about the night. That night was going to be the night that Geralt and he finally met up with Whoreson Junior, and he was going to force the man to tell him what he knew about Ciri. After the long day he had the day before, and the anger he had built up after having to come face to face with Radovid, he was ready to finally learn more about what had happened to Ciri from someone who had seen her. The more leads that slowly began to unravel for him, the more anxious he felt, the quicker he wanted to move. They were a few weeks behind Ciri's trail now, and the quicker they finished their business in Novigrad, the quicker they'd find her.
Whoreson was the start, and then after that they would rescue Dandelion, and figure out exactly where she had gone.
He breathed out a sigh of relief as he reached Clop and the rest of their horses. Geralt came up next to him, across from Roche with his arms crossed as the gentle breeze ran through his white hair.
"We figured out where Whoreson is. Don't normally like dealing with madmen, but us finding him is urgent," Geralt said, with Dominik nodding quickly in agreement.
The day had been beautiful so far, and the sun had finally completely dried his armor from the rainstorm the night before. Despite the fatigue he felt, the bags that were under his eyes, he felt a small spark of optimism rise inside of him again. They had only been in Novigrad for a few days, and already they knew exactly how to figure out where Ciri had gone. He held the hope in the back of his mind that she had fled Temple Isle, and gone into hiding somewhere in the city, and that Dandelion could know where.
And no matter the circumstances he face during the day, no matter what happened to him, just as when they were younger, the thought of finding Ciri had always put him in a better mood.
He stroked Clop's white mane and looked across to Roche, who nodded at the two of them.
"I understand you're both in a hurry, but… I've actually a favor to ask you both," The man asked them, and Dominik could see the worry behind his hard eyes, "It's Ves, she took a couple of the lads across the river. They plan to hit the black ones in Mulbrydale. I expressly ordered her not to go."
Geralt had told him about Ves. The blonde-haired younger girl, who was only a few years older then he, who despite the fact Roche wouldn't admit it, he saw as a daughter. She had been with Geralt and Roach through what happened after Foltest's assassination.
Geralt shrugged his shoulders at the man, "Okay, you got a problem. Insubordination. What do you want me and Dom to do about it?"
Roche sighed and looked up at the two Witchers with hard eyes, "I don't suspect Ves has entered the village yet. More than likely her and the boys lie in wait near Mulbrydale. You're… a great tracker," He said, before turning his eyes to Dominik, "And if you've really trained under Geralt all these years, then I have to assume you are as well."
He felt a twang of sympathy towards the man. It was obvious that it wasn't only the insubordination that had Roche in a frenzy, he was worried about Ves as well. He knew that finding Whoreson after finally getting his location was the most important thing for them right now, but Roche had helped them in that endeavor. If not for him, Geralt and he wouldn't have had anyway of finding out where Junior had been, so he felt like they could at least do the man a small favor.
Geralt looked down at him and shrugged, "What do you think?"
A smile came to his face. It was a small thing, but he always felt pride swell up inside of him when Geralt asked them what they should do. To him, it was an indication that his adoptive father truly valued his opinion and trusted him with important decisions they were making. Growing up it had always been in the back of his mind, that he was simply a tag along. That Geralt had only brought him to Kaer Morhen and raised him because Ciri was so insistent. Later he learned the idea was ridiculous, Geralt loved him as he loved Ciri, and it was just the two of them that were bound by destiny. All three of them were, linked by the iron bonds of destiny.
He nodded towards his adopted father with a smile, "He helped us, it's only fair we help him. Besides, I don't think attacking Junior's house in broad daylight would be smart, by the time we get there and back it'll be dark, perfect time to strike."
Geralt smiled with pride and it made the tiring last few days he had feel slightly better. It was his dream that after they finally did find Ciri, the three of them could go on the Path together, at least for a short while. Geralt, Ciri and he spending their days killing monsters, saving people and keeping them safe. It was something that seemed so completely out of reach just a short while ago, but now was just within his reach.
"Make a good point," Geralt said turning to Roach, "You can count on us."
Roche sighed in relief and nodded to them both, his hard eyes returning, "Thank you the both of you. I'll owe you a favor. Do you want to ride out now?"
Nodding he swung his leg up and around Clop's back. He looked out over the large fields of farmland they had crossed and watched as the sun beautiful shone over it. A cool breeze flew through his brown hair, and it was a moment of peace. Geralt climbed up onto Roach next to him, and Roche onto his mount as well.
"Yeah… let's get moving. Geralt and I have an appointment with Whoreson Junior later," He said, as he kicked his feet into Clop's sides.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Weird being back here… this is where it all started," He said to Geralt quietly, as he Roach and Geralt all looked out over the town of Mulbrydale with a spy glass.
The ride to the Hanged Man's Tree had taken the three of them a few hours. The sun was slowly starting to set, casting a brilliant orange glow over the hillside as he looked. Being back at the Hanged Man's Tree reminded him how only a few weeks prior he had begun the biggest quest he had ever undertaken. It had all began at the hanged man's tree, the first place Geralt and he camped before heading deeper into Velen.
He remembered that very first training session before they had headed to the inn at the crossroads. That time seemed like ages ago, he had barely been able to cast a sign without fainting on the spot. It was a wonder he had been able to make it through alive. One thing had kept him going, and that was the knowledge that at the end of the path he was on, was Ciri. He took a moment to realize just how far he had come.
When they had first arrived in Velen, signs would knock him out after one use. Now, using them too often was still dangerous for him, however he had gotten significantly better reserving his energy, and having used them so many times his body was finally becoming used to it. They had grown more powerful now as well, not nearly at the level he knew they would need to get too, but still significantly improved. His swordplay had gotten better as well, his movements were getting sharpers, his footwork more precise and his swiftness was growing with every training session he had with Geralt.
It had felt like so long since that first day of his journey with Geralt, he had come far. However he also knew that there was still a long way to go.
Roche speaking up from next to Geralt got his attention. He retracted the spyglass with a huff, "Village is awash with Black Ones already. They're preparing to execute folk."
The words brough his attention back to the village. His hands curled into fists as he saw the gold sun banners blowing in the breeze below. It had been the same way in Cintra, during the middle of the riots he remembered people being strung up and hanged at random parts of the streets. Those damn golden suns on the black banner were placed everywhere in the streets. A part of him didn't blame Ves at all for what she had done, and her desire to smash the Black Ones. However, he also understood what Roche had been angry about. In the current situation, if they saved the village, it would only bring them more trouble.
More Black Ones would come, and soon the villagers would give up the Temarian camp location to make it stop. One misstep and the group would be found, and all of them killed. He sighed and shook his head, shutting his eyes tight, not wanting to see the black banner anymore.
"No sign of Ves yet…" Geralt said from one knee on the ground.
Roche shook his head, "She's impetuous, but not stupid. She's probably laying in wait, waiting for dusk or-."
"Hear that Geralt," he said quickly, his eyes shooting open as he rushed towards the edge of the hill.
He heard the footsteps and faint yelling from the right. It would have been impossible for anyone not trained by Witchers to hear it was so faint. Geralt quickly rushed up next to him with Roche on his tail.
"Yeah… three lightly armored people, approaching from the right," Geralt said, as they all finally heard the screams of Ves.
"DEATH TO THE BLACK ONES," The young woman's screams rang through the countryside.
He heard the clanging of steel and shouting in Nilfgaardean. Ves and her two soldiers had attacked, and the fighting soon began in the middle of the village. The Nilfgaardeans were a squad of seven, with three heavily armored knights, attacking was suicide, and right away his hand went to his blade.
"Dammit," Roche swore from behind them, "Geralt, Dominik we have to help!"
The racking of steel against scabbards could be heard as the three of them drew their steel. He could see that Ves and her fighters were quickly being overrun, so he broke out into a sprint with his blade drawn. He had fought armored knights only a few times in his travels, and each time had been a difficult fight. A few times it had been Nilfgaardeans like it was now, others were common bandits who had collected plate armor from dead battlefields. Taking one down was difficult because of how well covered the armor had them. His attacks had to be precise and at the only few spots the armor didn't cover. The back of their legs. A small piece of their underarm. The spot on their under arms, right behind their elbows. And of course the neck, everywhere else was useless to attack.
He saw the three heavily armored knights begin to surround Ves and the last man she had standing. Reaching down to his belt he pulled a bomb, a samum, and lit it with the Igni sign. As the fuse slowly burned away, he chucked it towards the soldiers. It exploded, hitting all three soldiers, and sending them into a frenzy, grabbing their heads completely stunned. He took the chance, sliding down on his knees as he approached, slashing across the back of one knights knees, before coming up spinning and slicing across the small bit of his exposed throat.
Ves looked at him with astonishment, as he heard the twang of bowstring. He whirled around and raised his blade, with the flick of his wrist the arrow was deflected, and Roach quickly sliced across the archers chest. A few more light soldiers attacked Ves and he, he parried and spun, slicing across ones back, before he looked and saw Geralt
Geralt deflected blows from the last two knights that were alive. In their clunking plate they were helpless to stop the older Witcher. Geralt parried one blow from a man with such power, the mans blade flew from his hand. Quickly his adopted father spun low, slicing across the back of his leg. Another knight then tried to attack Geralt from behind, but the white-haired Witcher heard the attack coming. He spun around and deflected the attack, knocking his attackers blade upwards, before swiftly jabbing his steel sword into his under arm. The knight wailed before Geralt quickly pulled out his blade, spinning and slicing upwards across the mans neck, ending him.
He heard a war cry in Nilfgaardean behind him and whirled around to see two more men charging at him. Ves quickly intercepted the first blow, but the second man came straight for him. He leveled his blade and parried the first set of strikes that came his way. The coat of arms, the gold sun could be seen on the man's light gambeson. Finally he caught the mans blade on his, and after he did used all the strength, he had to push the mans blade upwards, he spun around to the mans back and jabbed his blade through him, killing him, and finally bringing a silence to the village.
Sighing he yanked his blade from the man, and carefully slid it back behind his back. He saw Geralt to his left do the same, slowly walking over to him. His adopted father got over to him with a smirk.
"Well, doesn't look like you're too tired after all," Geralt said with a smile.
He felt a laugh escape his mouth as he shook his head, "Never going to hear me complain about killing Black Ones…. But that's not what's important now. Tonight, we find out what happened to Ciri."
Geralt nodded, and he looked as if he was about to say something but was interrupted by a furious Vernon Roche.
"Dammit Ves have you gone completely mental," The commander screamed. Geralt and he both turned to see him walk over to the young woman, "You ignore my orders. Go off on a suicide mission. And instead of donning a breastplate, you rush into battle, shirt open, navel and whatnot exposed!"
Seeing the scene unfold before him, couldn't help but flash him back to his short time alone with Geralt alone while Ciri went to the Temple of Melitele. Plenty of times had his thirteen-year-old self-ran off, charging into a battle he had no chance of winning, only for Geralt to arrive and them both having to fight out of it. He watched as Ves and Roach stared each other down, Ves crossing her arms.
"You're not my father Roche, you have no right to tell me what to wear," The young woman said, bravely not taking her eyes away from the man.
Roche scoffed and screamed again, "But I am your commander and you will obey me! Guerilla warfare. Warfare! It involves armies for fuck's sake!"
Ves's tough act seemed to crumble, as she looked to the villagers hiding in their houses, "They helped us Roche…. I could not abandon them."
He felt a twinge of sympathy for the young woman. Of all the people she could have encountered, he knew what it was like to hate the Black Ones. If it had been a few weeks prior that he had encountered a situation like the one before him now, he would have the same type of fury as Ves did. He would never forgive the Black Ones for what they had put him through, what they had done to his home. There was nothing that would ever make him not want to put a sword in the emperor's throat. He would never forget Cintra, his home, and how it was put to the torch.
However, in the moment of hatred he felt then, he heard the voice in his head.
"More than anything you know that but… right now I need to keep moving, we have to do it now" The voice of Ciri, from the dream that Corinne Tilly had given him.
It reminded him that she was alive, and that no matter the hatred he felt, no matter what obstacle he came across, she was what mattered. Finding her.
His thoughts were interrupted by Roche who shook his head, scowling at the young woman, "It's a soldiers job to kill Ves. Not save, not rescue. If that's not to your liking, join the sisters of Melitele and become a healer. Fucking hell…. Surrender your weapon, you'll get it back when and if you wise up. Move out!"
Roche was a tough commander he could tell; however he could also see in the mans eyes how truly worried for the young woman he had been. He watched as Ves unsheathed her sword and handed it over to Roche. Roche took it, but he could see the look of slight disappointment and regret in the man's eyes. It looked like they were about to all leave when a loud cough hit the air.
He shot around with the other three, and they all saw one of the Nilfgaardean knights crawling, his head rising up to see the four of them.
"Looks like you got a prisoner…" Geralt said from next to him, as the knight attempted to crawl.
Ves spoke up before any of them could, "You took my weapon Roche, so it looks like I'll have to manage with my bare hands."
The young women went to step forward, but Roche held out an arm to stop her, turning back to face them with a hard look, "Leave him be, there are corpses enough here. We're leaving."
He turned to Roche with a shocked expression, although not nearly as shocked as Ves. The young woman scoffed and shouted, "Are you mental Roche!? He came here to murder civilians. He's seen us. Will you have him return to his camp and report!?"
Everything Ves said had been true, but he looked down at the coughing, half-dead Nilfgaardean. Despite all of the hatred he had for that fucking coat of arms, something Geralt had taught him very early on, was that you don't kill defenseless men. There was no honor in it. It was the code and attitude that Geralt, and his father had always instilled in him. It had been tested at times, but he always tried to do what he thought would make Geralt proud while fighting.
Roche turned to the three of them, his eyes growing softer, "Emhyr knows we can kill his men… let him also know we can show mercy."
"Got a point Roche, besides killing a defenseless-." Geralt tried to start, before Ves angrily cut him off.
"Has the Witcher taken your stones Roach! What is wrong with you, they're sadists, they're the occupiers," The young woman yelled again, pleading with her commander.
Sighing he stepped in-front of the younger woman, "Look, I understand how you feel. I'm from fucking Cintra, I know what it's like to hate the Black Ones," he started, looking back down at the crawling, defenseless man, "But if we go around, killing defenseless soldiers, ones who can't defend themselves… then well, we're no better than they are. And I don't know about you but… the only thing worse for me then the Black Ones, would be people thinking I'm just like them."
The words hung he spoke hung over the younger woman. He could see her face contorting, trying to think of something else to say, but no words came. The truth of the matter was, he didn't want to kill the defenseless man. He hated the sight of the Nilfgaardean banner, it reminded him of that night eleven years ago, the blood, destruction and carnage. However, in that moment, he heard her voice in his head again. Ciri was out there, and she was in danger from something far worse than the Nilfgaardean army. That was his priority, everything else was going to be pushed to the side until he found her, and she was safe.
Roche took the opportunity to speak up, "We're done here," he said, turning to the crawling knight, who was beginning to stagger to his feet, "And you Nilfgaardean, piss off before I change my mind."
The knight muttered a few words in Nilfgaardean and nodded to them before turning around to stumble away. He sighed in relief, as he looked out over the countryside again. The sun was almost back down behind the horizon, the nighttime growing closer. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Geralt looking down at him with an approving smile.
He smiled back up at his adopted father, before Roche got their attention.
"We had better start back before they send a patrol," The commander started, Geralt and he both turning to him, "Thank you Geralt for your help. And you Dominik, it was good to meet you… you raised a fine lad Geralt."
He felt a smile come to his face as Geralt looked down to him, "I did yeah…. Thanks again for your help Roach."
Roach smiled once more and nodded to them, reaching out a hand and firmly shaking both of theirs, "No, thank you both. Should you ever need anything, you both know where to find me. Good luck on your quest."
Again he felt a smile come to his face. Roche was another name he wrote down in the back of his head. A friend who could aid them. As he knew from the very beginning, and he learned who Ciri was running from, finding her was only going to be the start. The battle against the Hunt would come, he, Ciri and Geralt wouldn't be able to face them alone. They were going to need the help of friends, and other allies to fight back.
As he watched Vernon Roche leaving with Ves at his side, the two locked in intense conversation, he knew he had found another friend and ally. Sighing he turned back to Geralt, just as the sun finally began to set, and the light of the moon was starting to be visible. It was going to be a full moon that night, and a beautiful night would come along with it. A gently breeze ran through his wavy hair, as Geralt came up next to him, his arms crossed, a look of pride on his face as he looked at his adopted son.
"I'm proud of you for that," Geralt said to him, his voice beaming with as much expression as he could put into it.
He chuckled lightly and shook his head, "It wasn't anything. Just a normal fight, I mean-."
"No not that," Geralt said, meeting his yellow eyes down to his, "For what you said. Part of me expected you to slice that Nilfgaardeans throat. But… you remembered what I taught you and put your anger aside."
A warm feeling swirled in his gut as he smiled, looking out over the darkened fields, before turning back to Geralt.
"Well… there's just more important stuff on my mind right now. Finding Ciri… this is where it all started… and it feels like we're getting closer and closer," He said, feeling the swallow tremble around his neck.
Geralt came up next to him with his arms crossed, as the two Witchers admired the bright, now moonlit view of the fields.
"You're right, not far behind her at all… and after tonight we should find another piece to the puzzle…. I believe we're late for an appointment," His adopted father said, with his signature sarcasm laced inside it.
He felt himself scoff a laugh as he looked up and met Geralt's eyes, "I think you're right… to Oxenfurt. It's time we finally introduced ourselves to Whoreson Junior."
A/N: So ends our chapter with Vernon Roche! Next chapter Dominik and Geralt both are finally going off to find Whoreson Junior and figure out what happened to Ciri.
What are you predictions for how the interaction will go? We also get a Ciri POV, what do you think she's thinking now, knowing she only missed Dominik by a few days? What are you looking forward to for the rest of Novigrad? How will Dom and Geralt help Triss Merigold? Will Dominik or Geralt help put on Priscilla's play? What do you make of the dreams Dom's beginning to have of Cintra and his sister what does this drem with his sister show us and why's it coming back now?
Also, please if you guys are wondering anything about Dom's past, Geralt's past, Ciri's past, or ANYTHING in my timeline with Dominik in the world, please tell me, I may just answer your question with a flashback in a chapter.
Thanks so much again everyone for so much support. I estimate about ten chapters left in Novigrad before we head to the Skellige Isles, tell me what you're excited to see play out in a review. Thanks for all the support again, see you all next time and please stay safe everyone!