The Witcher: Through the Worlds
Chapter 32: The Play's the Thing
Narrator: After his intense duel with the mysterious female commander of the Wild Hunt, the Young Wolf Dominik of Cintra was injured, not just physically, but mentally as well. However, after the careful medical treatment he received from Freya Kaminski of Ellander, he was able to recover from his wounds. That day however Geralt and Dominik both received an urgent letter from Triss Merigold. The White Wolf and the Young Wolf helped Triss get the mages out of Novigrad. Now, with all other tasks finally complete, Dominik set off for the Kingfisher, to see the incredibly talented and beautiful Priscilla, hoping that they may formulate a plan to break myself out of prison, so I may tell them what happened to Ciri.
The workers at the Kingfisher had surprisingly cleaned up the bodies relatively quickly. The Witch Hunter's Geralt and Triss had slayed were cleared out, and people had quickly filed back in for music, drinks and food. He got a small curt nod from the barkeep as he walked through the door. The people were drinking and socializing as if nothing had happened, which relieved him. It would have been dreadfully hard for him to concentrate on his conversation with Priscilla if he felt he was watching over his shoulder for more Witch Hunter's.
His sword clunked on his back, as he took in the musty smell of wine and cooking meet. Some people gave him odd looks as he passed by, perhaps remembering him from a few days prior when Geralt and he first visited Priscilla. He ignored them however, while he walked up the steps, trying to settle his mind. It had been more a mental then physically taxing last few days for him, but there was something about being back in the Kingfisher that calmed him. The smell of incense and burning candle wax, the cool breeze that blew through the few open windows from the night. It helped him calm his mind and spirit.
Geralt had talked to Dijkstra while Dominik quickly left the two. He didn't know yet what the former spy had wanted to ask his adopted father, but he was sure that the offer was more then likely only meant for Geralt, which he didn't mind. It was time for him to focus on finding Ciri, not the schemes of some crime lord. Talking to Priscilla would be the first step, getting Dudu the second, and finally he'd rescue Dandelion. He wasn't going to let his friend spend any longer in some dank cell on temple isle.
His armor was scuffed and starting to get dirty with dried blood and dirt from his fights the last few days. It would almost be time for him to at least get it polished and oiled, the same with his sword. However, that would be after they had rescued the bard, and figured out where Ciri had gone. If he had any luck, then she was hiding out somewhere in Novigrad still or Velen, and Dandelion knew where.
When he entered Priscilla's room, he could see the trobairitz at her dresser, combing through her golden blonde hair in the mirror she had.
"Priscilla," He said when he closed the door behind him.
She jumped and whirled around brush still in hand, when she saw that it was him, she sighed out in relief dropping her brush to the ground. She was dressed in a similar outfit to when he saw her the first time, she got up from the stool and walked over to him, and he could see the worry in her eyes.
"Dominik thank the gods," She said, she tossed her blonde hair behind her shoulder and met his eyes, "I hadn't heard from you or Geralt in days. Where is he? Have you figured out what happened to Dandelion?"
He felt himself laugh a little as he held up his hands to calm her, "He's alright no need to worry, we know where he is. Turns out you were right his heist… didn't turn out well. Temple Guard nabbed him, they got him in a cell on Temple Isle. Caught him after his run in with Whoreson."
The words didn't seem to reassure her, "Well we need to figure out how to get him out. Temple Isle is a fortress! What happened with Whoreson, and is the woman he was helping the one you and Geralt are looking for?"
Her words made his head suddenly shoot back up at her.
"You know that Geralt and I are looking for… a woman," He said to her carefully, the flames from the candles in her room, and the light from the room illuminating the area.
Priscilla scoffed, "Of course I do. You mentioned her name last time I saw you, after I said Dandelion was helping an old friend. Besides, he's told me your story. That you've been on an eight-year quest to find your lost love. I'm… guessing this Ciri is her?"
He sighed and mentally scolded himself for giving away information like he had. If Dandelion trusted Priscilla and was even falling in love with her like Zoltan had said, then he assumed he could trust her. However, Geralt had been very specific that the fewer people that knew about Ciri the better. It was a miracle the older Witcher had been okay with him telling George, Faram and Freya. He of course understood why keeping her name secret was of such importance, however at the moment he had been bursting with excitement that he finally figured out where she had gone.
There wasn't anything he could do to change it if Priscilla already knew she already knew. Besides the trobairitz did seem trustworthy, so if anyone were to know, he would be okay with it being her.
Slowly he met her darker brown eyes and nodded, "Yeah… Dandelion helped her. He's the last one to have seen her. So by saving him, not only am I saving my friend I'm-."
"Also figuring out where your woman went," Priscilla quickly interrupted, meeting his eyes with a determined nod, "I'll do what I can, not just for Dandelion but to help you as well. So… what did you figure out?"
Hearing someone say they would help him always brought a smile to his face. His bones were finally beginning to relax, the aching slowly fading. He wouldn't be afraid to admit that Geralt and Triss did most of the heavy lifting in their trip through the sewers and fight against the Hunter's at the docks. He stayed back and provided cover, only engaging when he needed. His body had gotten a small amount of rest, and now he finally felt like he had a few moments to sit and relax.
He looked up an met the trobairitz eyes, "I'll tell you but first… do you have a bottle of anything? I have had quite the last few days let me tell you."
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"Oh Dandelion…." Priscilla said from next to him on the bed.
Priscilla had a bottle of wine stashed away in her room and had ordered the two of them up plates of cheese, bread and other things for dinner. For the next few minutes as they drank and ate, he explained everything that had happened. He started with Geralt and he's trip to Sigi Reuven's bathhouse, all the way up to when they went to Whoreson's mansion itself. He even found himself telling her what happened to Ciri and Dandelion at the estate in detail. The more he talked to Priscilla, the more he found himself telling her. The trobairitz was good company, she listened intently and asked questions only when she truly needed, it was something he appreciated at the moment. He felt like she could see that he had been exhausted from the previous few days.
Sitting in her room, drinking a cup of wine, and having dinner was relaxing. The music gently strummed in from down below, and the warm flames from the candles all helped his muscles and spirit relax. In a way now he felt he was actively trying to find Ciri, and he also was giving himself the much-needed rest he desperately needed. For the moment all he thought about was finding Dandelion, and then learning where Ciri had gone. He wasn't worrying about the female commander of the Wild Hunt, or if he truly was a 'carrier' for powerful magical blood as Triss described, or trying to train. All he was worried about was Ciri.
He looked back at Priscilla reassuringly, taking his sword sheath off his back, and leaning it against the bed.
"Don't worry, we're going to get him out," He said to her, making her turn to him, "Geralt and I have a plan, but for that we need your help. We need to find Dudu."
The two of them were sitting on Priscilla's large bed, a comfortable large mattress that relaxed his bones. He could see how truly worried the blonde was, so he tried his best for a calming and reassuring tone. He was expecting her to reply with a worried nod or ask him again to please go and save Dandelion, however it was the complete opposite.
She nodded with a hard-determined look on her face, "Alright, brilliant. This plan of yours, what is it and how can I help?"
A smile came to his face again. He took a long drink from his cup, letting the last of the wine pleasantly slide down his throat, before turning to face her.
"I killed Menge yes, but nobody knows that he actually died," He explained to the trobairitz, "His body was burned so to anyone's knowledge he could've escaped. We'll have Dudu take on Menge's appearance, and order Dandelion moved to Oxenfurt. Geralt and I will gather up some men and ambush the transport on the way and free Dandelion."
Finally hearing himself say the plan out loud to Priscilla brought him immense relief. The last two days had felt as if it were one long continuous one, and that his search for Ciri had finally stalled again, like it had so many times over the past eight years. Priscilla however also seemed like she was eager to get the plan rolling.
"Alright, and do you know of any way to find Dudu," She asked him, standing up to stretch her legs.
He grabbed both of their cups and plates, moving them over to the table in the corner of her room. Sighing he turned back to face her, the light of the candles around them illuminating the room fully.
"Well that's what I've come to you for. I've known Dudu a while but haven't seen him very recently. You're his friend, I figured you'd have a way to contact him," He said, hoping that she had some ideas bouncing around her head.
She thought for a moment, walking over to sit in the chair by her dresser, "Well with a doppler, the question is never where, but as whom. Previously when there had been trouble, he'd simply disappear one night and reappear on the morrow as someone else… but this time he hasn't returned…"
Sighing himself he hoped that no Hunter's had nabbed his doppler friend. Dudu had risked his life to help Ciri, and for that he'd be eternally grateful to the doppler merchant. After he had put himself at such risk, Dominik was going to do anything he could to make sure he was safe. If the doppler had been captured along with Dandelion, he would break into the Temple Prison himself if he had to, in order to save them both.
"Have you and Geralt known Dudu long," Priscilla asked him, causing him to whirl his head around to her.
A small smile came to his face as he nodded, "Yeah for most of the time I've been with Geralt. Ciri and I used to love seeing him. Over the last few years I've been alone I've seen him a few times. He'd help me try and track down leads on her, or… well just help get me a place to stay in general. How about you, known him long yourself?"
An amused smile crossed Priscilla's face as she scoffed, "Truth be told, I can't really be sure. It seems he'd been circling me for some time in various forms trying to attract my attention."
"Can't really blame him," He complimented the trobairitz, "After seeing you and hearing you sing, I can see why he was making the effort."
The compliment was a true one, after talking with Priscilla for longer it was clear to him why Dandelion had been falling for her. Beautiful and talented, and not just some witless and helpless dame that threw herself at him, it must have been a large change for his poet friend.
She chuckled lightly, her face getting a tinge redder, "Thank you…. I failed to notice him at first. Then he decided to shoot for the moon, assume Dandelion's form."
He scoffed and felt himself laugh again, "Ha, Dudu not much of a singer? That what tipped you off?"
Priscilla laughed again and shook her head, "Haha no, he simply talked about something other than himself!"
The two of them shared a laugh again, and he felt a relieved feeling run through him. It felt good to be around a friend, laughing, drinking and having a good time. He of course could have headed to the Rosemary and done the same with Faram, George, Zoltan and Freya, however in coming to the Kingfisher, he was able to knock out two birds with one stone. He was able to eat, drink and relax, while also continuing the quest to find Ciri.
After the laughter finally died down, he met Priscilla's eyes again, "Alright well we need to find a way now to lure him out of hiding. Do you know where he may be hiding? Did he have any friends who he might be with or have tried to contact?"
Priscilla nodded right away, and he sat down on her bed across from her.
"Dandelion of course, and then there's Irina Renard's troupe-that's all. I'm not certain he was friendly with anyone else," She explained to him, her voice sounding upset, "He would spend dawn till dusk with the troupe, either on stage or in the crowd."
A smile crossed his face again. It reminded him of being a child back in Cintra. One of his favorite past-times as a child would be going to mummings, the theater, or the inn's for poetry and songs with his mother. It had always been a secret want of his to join the troupe one day, that was before he started to get older, when he met Ciri and started training more with his father.
"So if Dudu liked going to the mummings… maybe we can use that," He said, an idea slowly starting to form in his head.
Priscilla nodded eagerly, "Yes I'm sure they'd help. I'm surprised that he didn't come to us right away. Irina and the troupe are deeply indebted to him. We need only mention Dudu, and I'm sure they'd help."
The idea finally sprang to full form in his head. It was crazy, and he had no idea if it would possibly work, however he had learned over the last few weeks that the best thing he could do was to trust his gut. Chasing after the Wild Hunt in Velen when he and Keira had entered the elven mage's hideout seemed like a bad idea at the time, yet it had turned out well. Just two days prior, running headfirst into a cave that the Wild Hunt had clearly been too with only one other Witcher for backup hadn't been the best idea, but he had survived and learned new important things. Things that bothered him greatly but were still imperative for him to know.
Compared to those ideas, what he thought then was nothing at all.
"Maybe… we can use a play," He said, and he could see Priscilla's eyes eagerly grow before he continued, "We can write a grand new play, and work in a hidden message to Dudu, lure him out of hiding that way!"
There had been few times he felt genuinely excited over the years. He had been over the moon almost every time they had gotten even a lick of information about Ciri of course. He had been excited of course when he saw his Uncle Vesemir and Geralt again, and when he reunited with all of his friends. However, other then those few moments, genuine excitement had been scarce for him the last few weeks during his journey.
For a moment he felt like a young child back in Cintra, sitting next to his mother eagerly watching mummings, or listening to bards sing.
Priscilla nodded a similar look of excitement on her face, "That could work yes, but like you said we'd an entirely new play, a few lines wouldn't suffice. Most importantly it must have a grand title!"
"We don't have a moment to waste then," He said excitedly, shooting up from his spot on the bed.
Priscilla laughed and got up from her own chair, walking over to one of her dressers and pulling out sheets of parchment. The trobairitz seemed to be absolutely buzzing, she placed the stack of parchment and pulled out a new quill from her desk. Eagerly he grabbed a chair from the table in the corner of her room and pulled it next to her.
The blonde smiled and looked over to meet his eyes, "Forgive me but I… didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic."
He felt his face get hot as he leaned back in the chair, laughing nervously, "Ahaha well… when I was younger I… guess you could call me a frequenter of the mummings back in Cintra. I loved going to them with my mother."
The trobairitz smiled with an amused look, "Well, well, the rough tough Witcher has a soft spot for the theater. This is perfect, we'll have a grand time together!"
"I think we will," He said with a smile, looking to meet the trobairitz's.
Writing a play for a mumming was another thing he would have to add to the list of things he never thought he'd need to do in order to save Ciri, that was along with saving a goat, and looking for rat shit with Geralt and Triss. Unlike those two however he was particularly excited. Priscilla stroked her chin for a moment before turning to him.
"Alright now the key is to convince Dudu he can rely on you, that we wish to free Dandelion. The message must be clear, though naturally woven into the play's dramatical essence," Priscilla began, the light from the candle on her desk illuminating her face.
He nodded in agreement, "You're right, it has to be seamlessly integrated into the plot. If it seems forced, then he may think it's a trap. We need an appropriate dramatical structure, I was thinking something gripping and contemporary would be best," he said excitedly, feeling his blood begin to race, the excitement boiling over.
The candle's lit the room, the moon was shining, and he could still hear the music filtering in from beyond the door and the inn down below. He got up from his seat to walk to the large vase of wine Priscilla had ordered for them. Priscilla turned around as he went to pour himself another glass, and the trobairitz smiled broadly.
"That's exactly what I was thinking," She said excitedly, stroking her chin in thought again, "How about the condottieri of Poviss?"
He finally filled the cup to the brim, and took a long sip, the wine again sending a pleasant feeling through his body as it slid down his throat. He bit his lip in thought, before looking at Priscilla and shaking his head.
Taking a few steps towards her with the cup in his hands he met her eyes, "I do like that tale but… may be kind of hard to fit a doppler and a Witcher in there. And as much fun as this is, we are on a bit of a time crunch."
Priscilla nodded, having a look of realization, "Yes good point…. I got it! How about Lorenzo Molla!? A handsome yet ruthless bandit, and the doppler who fools him. But now the doppler must hide… and he can only count on the help of his friend, who's a Witcher! A witcher in turn is prepared to do anything to save his daughter," She stopped for a moment before turning to meet his eyes, and he could see them go wide, "No not his daughter, better yet… his beloved!"
He had met Lorenzo Molla before, and wasn't particularly fond of the man, however he didn't feel like going into that particular story at the moment, so he laughed nervously and shrugged.
"Maybe… but let's throw around a few more ideas first," He suggested taking the wine cup to his lips and drinking heavily.
Again, the blonde trobairitz nodded in agreement, her excitement not leaving her, however. She thought contentedly for another few seconds before she smiled and scoffed.
"I got it! We shall stage the story of the Urcheon of Erlenwald! Secret lovers, their-," She was cut off when he nearly coughed the wine he was drinking into her face.
As she spoke, he had been in the middle of taking a long drink from his cup. As soon as he heard the Urcheon of Erlenwald however, he gagged and coughed up all of the wine in his mouth. A large fit of coughs attacked him as he almost keeled over, leaning down on his knees and nearly vomiting up the food he ate from the fit of coughs, the wine going down all the wrong pipes of his throat.
Priscilla had been so shocked she leaped backwards and nearly falling over her desk. Her eyes widened at him as he tried to keep the coughs under control.
"I… I take it you don't like that idea, are you alright," She asked with concern in her voice, as she leaned down to put a hand on his back.
No, he hadn't been alright. Growing up he loved the story of the Urcheon of Erlenwald, the play was legendary, and he was a fan. However, the like for the play ended when he learned the truth.
The play was based off the romance between Ciri's mother Princess Pavetta, and Ciri's real father the current Emperor of Nilfgaard, Emhyr Var Emrys. He also learned that the Witcher who saved the cursed Urcheon was none other then Geralt, that was how he ended up with Ciri as his child of destiny. He wasn't a fan of the tale anymore; however, he knew that without it, Geralt never would have been linked to Ciri by destiny, and in turn he himself more then likely never would have met Geralt. The play however reminded him of the awful truth that played over in his head. Var Emrys was truly Ciri's father, and the man would want them to bring her to him when they found her.
From what Geralt had told him, the Witcher had a large distaste for the Emperor. Dominik had his own obvious reasons for hating the Emperor of Nilfgaard, the man had been responsible for the slaughter of Cintra, and in turn the deaths of his entire family. However, along with all the vile things the Emperor had done, he knew for a fact there was another, deeper reason that Geralt had such hatred for him. After they had left Vizima, he asked Geralt why he hated the Emperor so much.
The older Witcher had refused to tell him the reason. When Dominik asked him why Geralt simply shook his head. Geralt had told him that if Dominik knew the reason he despised the Emperor so much, he was afraid the younger Witcher would have marched back to Vizima and died trying to put a sword through the Emperor's throat.
It had bothered him, Dominik couldn't think of anything else that could make him hate the Emperor, want to kill him anymore then he already did.
"I *cough* *cough*," He started, finally able to take in a deep breath, before meeting the Trobairitz's eyes, "I'm fine. It's just… that… that story hit's a little close to home for me."
It had been true, the story made him think of Ciri, her real father, and everything that she had been going through. He took a few deep, steadying breaths and sat back down in the chair he had pulled up to Priscilla's desk. She slowly walked and sat back down across from him.
"Hit's close to home? How so if you don't mind telling," She asked, crossing over her legs as she sat.
He let out a deep sigh, clearing his lungs and looking over to meet Priscilla's eyes, "Well you see in the story… Princess Pavetta, the real Princess Pavetta the story is based on, and the Urcheon well they… they're Ciri's parents."
"What," Priscilla said, her eyes growing wider as she looked at him, "This… Ciri you're looking for she… she's the princess of Cintra? The one who everyone was looking for after the massacre?"
Slowly he nodded his head, feeling that he couldn't leave anything out for the trobairitz now.
"Yeah… and the Witcher in the story? That was Geralt," He explained, feeling his skin begin to crawl, "He saved… the Urcheon and helped lift his curse. In return Geralt asked for the Law of Surprise. At the time, the Urcheon had no idea Princess Pavetta was pregnant… that child was Ciri… that's how Geralt became linked to her."
Priscilla's head looked like it was filled with a million questions. The warmth seemed to slowly leave the room, but the candles still flickered. After she seemed to think for a moment, trying to remember everything Dandelion had told her, she finally looked back up to him.
"Alright but… where do you fit into all of it? Dandelion only told me that Geralt had raised you, you fell in love with someone and were separated from them, he… he never mentioned anything about this Ciri," She asked him, true curiosity in his eyes.
He scoffed and met her eyes with his, "He didn't mention her because we made him stop. Ciri… a lot of people wanted to get their hands on her. Dandelion was actually almost killed by a man looking for her, because he heard him sing about her in ballads. So… instead of singing about Geralt rescuing two children a boy and a girl from Cintra… it changed to just a boy."
"And that boy was you," She asked, her tone completely astonished.
Slowly he nodded his head, "Yeah… you see my father, my birth father was Gregory of Cintra. He was captain of Queen Calanthe's royal guards, her right-hand man, her best knight. I… I met Ciri when we were 11. We… we were best friends right away… we escaped together after Nilfgaard attacked. About a month or two later… Geralt found us, took us both in. We trained together for years… fell in love, it… it was fantastic but… as I'm sure Dandelion has told you we… we haven't seen each other in a long time."
He felt his heart begin to beat slower. His hands gingerly went around to the swallow pendant as a shaky breath came to him. His eyes fell as well, they suddenly felt heavy, and his stomach began to spin like a tornado. Priscilla must have obviously saw his discomfort because she looked up at him and sighed.
"I… I'm sorry I asked and brought it all up. We can try something else if you-," She started, he quickly shook his head to cut her off.
"No… let's do it. If we switch out the Urcheon for a doppler, then it'll work perfectly. Come on, let's get writing. Let's not let me spitting wine all over you ruin our grand time," He said, a small smile coming to his face.
Only he, Geralt and a select few truly knew the true origins of the play. However, he knew it was their best chance at finding Dudu. The message they were trying to send was clear, that the doppler would be rescued by the Witcher. From what Whoreson had told them, Dudu assumed that Geralt, and he were coming. Hopefully the play about a Witcher saving a doppler would be enough to make him reveal himself again to the troupe, where they would be waiting.
Priscilla nodded and smiled at him, "Alright let's get to work. I must admit… you're an interesting man Dominik, it seems there's even more stories then just what Dandelion told me. I… do hope you eventually let him write a ballad about you and Ciri. Your story… it truly is inspiring it deserves to be told."
A small laughed escaped him as he met the trobairitz's eyes again, "Tell you what. Help me find Dudu here and…when I do find Ciri… and she's finally safe…. You and Dandelion can both write as many ballads as you want, I'll even help you by providing more details… that can be heard of course."
She smiled across at him, the light from the flame dancing across her face, "It's a deal, now let's get writing. I'll order us up some more wine since… well you spit all of it at me."
He laughed and she quickly got up from her seat, heading towards the door. Taking in a deep breath he looked out the window over the darkened city. A smile crossed his face. He was finally on the trail again, getting closer and closer to finding her.
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That night the dream was cold. He couldn't feel the chills since he was looking down at the scene, but he could hear the wind howling. A thick fog was all around him on the sides of the scene, and he could feel the ground beneath his feet shift. He could smell the salty air through the mist, as he heard the clattering of weapons and the shuffling of armor. His blood was slowly turning to ice, and he could almost feel himself freezing on the spot. His head whirled around trying to see where he was, but as soon as he blinked, he realized.
After he opened his eyes again the soldiers were surrounding him. Their skull helmets, and played armor, halberds and swords were all in their hands as they stood at attention, not daring to move an inch. They were soldiers of the Wild Hunt. The wind whirled past his ears again, the chills he felt going down his spine were uncontrollable. None of the soldiers saw him, and as he felt the ground shift he realized where he was.
The ship of the Wild Hunt.
It wasn't made of the fingernails of dead men like most stories claimed, but he could still feel the dread. People had been tortured, killed and mutilated on that boat. The head of Eredin's fleet, his own personal command ship. He didn't know why his dreams would bring him there, but as the snow and frost howled past his ears, he could see why the soldiers were standing at attention.
None of them moved an inch, because at the front of the ship, looking out into the thick, frosty fog was Eredin himself. The towering ruler of the Wild Hunt stood above all the others. A crude longsword, even longer than the ones Geralt and he carried hung at his hip. Frost slowly gathered on his armor, as he held his hands behind his back, the crowned skull helmet stood above the rest. To his right was a large warrior, his grey plate seeming to be even bulkier than Eredin's, a large shield and massive hammer leaning against the side of the ship.
To Eredin's left, stood a tall elf holding a magical staff. A bright blue ball of magic swirled in a crystal ball at the top, as he stood facing the soldiers. He turned with his black faceplate and looked down towards the one person who was kneeling in front of Eredin.
It was her, the commander that he had dueled the night before. She knelt down on one knee in front of Eredin, who still hadn't turned around to face her. Her head was facing down to the floor of the ship, her sword was gone, and he could see the singe marks on her armor from their fight. All of the soldiers stood around her in perfectly set formations, while the commander in the massive armor, and what was certainly a high mage standing next to Eredin faced her.
"Su wyer esca den-mime heru," She said, her feminine voice lifting over the howling wind.
The two commanders next to Eredin both looked to their King. He didn't understand what she said when she spoke in the elven tongue. It worried him for a moment that he wouldn't understand any of the conversation, however Eredin clanked in his armor and turned around to face her. His hands stayed behind his back, and the cold howling wind blew his black hair behind him. The King of the Hunt looked down at her, and to his surprise spoke in common tongue.
"Speak to me in your native tongue Baelen," The King said, but the commander still did not rise as he continued, "Rise and face me. Don't act like a meek human, speak to me as if you are truly one of us."
Baelen. He finally heard her name. It didn't ring any bells in his head, he didn't know the name… but from what Eredin said, she wasn't one of them. What would a human woman possibly be doing in the company of the Wild Hunt, let alone leading soldiers? How did she possibly know who his father was, and that he and Ciri grew up in Cintra. His heart began to beat faster, his blood raced as his limbs began to develop frost on them as his eyes went wide. Baelen slowly rose to her feet, and her own skull helmet looked up slowly to meet the eyes of Eredin.
When she spoke, she seemed hesitant for a moment, "I… I'm sorry your majesty. D… Dominik of Cintra he… he got the best of me. It won't happen again, I swear."
Her words seemed to hang between the four of them, Eredin, Baelen and his two commanders. He couldn't see any of their faces, all of them wore their helmets, but he could tell how they all felt by their body language. Baelen was almost shaking, as Eredin slowly turned back away from her, and the commander, the man who's shield and hammer laid against the boat's edge spoke.
"A man… bested you? Not even… a Witcher? A human… bested you," The elf said, his common tongue clearly not as good as Eredin's, he stuttered more as he continued this time turning to Eredin, "My lord I told you and Caranthir training this… woman… was a waste of our time. First, she is bested by Zireael, now… she is bested by a man."
He knew this wasn't true. He hadn't bested this Baelen, their duel had come to a draw if anything, but it could be seen to some that she was the victor. She had him at her mercy, her sword inches from his chest and throat. All she had to do was bring her blade down and she would have killed him, but for some reason she hadn't.
For the first time watching the conversation he saw the true nature of the woman he had fought. Her head fired around towards the commander who had spoken.
"He IS a Witcher, and much more powerful then he realizes as we discovered, you insolent fool. He's finally beginning to unlock his inner power! If he does, him combine with Zireael could prove even more dangerous," She hissed at the elf, her voice resonating over the frost, "He will lead us to her, she would die for him and he for her. All we need to do is get our hands on him, I will NOT fail again."
"Ha, and you truly believe yourself strong enough," The armored elf roared again, taking a step towards Baelen, "It matters not what power you believe he holds in his blood… he is just a man. First you are bested by Zireael when we finally had her cornered, now you are bested by a man… it matters not what powers he holds you were bested by a weak… pathetic human. This is twice now… twice now you have failed."
He held his breath as he could almost see Baelen's nostrils flare under her face plate, she whirled to face the massive elf again.
"Zireael eluded you as well in the swamps," She spat at him, not backing down from the much larger commander, "You were too busy fucking those Witches, that you let Zireael escape right from under you… I'm not the only one who's failed."
Armor clunked as the elf stomped towards her, getting inches away from her. Baelen however did not back down, and looked up, the eyes slits of their helmets meeting as the commander towered over her.
"Your usefulness will soon come to an end GIRL," The elf spat down at her, his breath spewing from his helmet, "Why Caranthir bothered with you I'll never know. Your bloodline brought disgrace to our people, the reason we now chase Zireael. Perhaps you were unable to kill this man… because you have yet to suppress your own feelings…"
"They're gone, dead just like-," She started to spit back, but she was quickly cut off by Eredin's booming voice.
"Silence Imlerith, silence Baelen," He bellowed to them both, "Imlerith, back away… now."
The commander Imlerith took one last look towards Baelen, before walking back to his position besides Eredin. Baelen stared at him, and while he couldn't see her eyes, he knew it wasn't a friendly stare. She slowly turned her head, looking back towards Eredin who had turned back to face her. The wind howled in his ears, as Eredin looked over to his left, towards the mage holding the staff.
"Is it true Caranthir? Do we still have no new traces of the girl," Eredin asked the mage in a slow drawn out tone.
The mage Caranthir didn't look to Eredin, his helmet stayed locked on Baelen.
"Yes my lord…. I have sensed no traces of her since she and Baelen's encounter…. Avallach's doing… of this I am sure," The mage said, his common tongue broken but clear for him to hear.
After the mage had finished Baelen took the opportunity to speak again, taking another step towards Eredin.
"My lord please, allow me one more chance to get to Dominik of Cintra," She pleaded with Eredin, her voice growing desperate, "With him in our grasp I promise Zireael will show herself! She would do anything to save him from us, including giving us her power, allow me to redeem myself!"
His own blood stiffened, and he could feel his body overlooking the dream begin to completely freeze over. It was more and more clear now that he did know this Baelen from somewhere in his life, but he just couldn't put his finger on where. If it was someone from his childhood it would make sense how she knew about Ciri and he, even then however how did she end up with the Wild Hunt? How did she have such extraordinary powers? And if she seemed to have such animosity towards him, why hadn't she killed him? One question however rang through them all as he saw Eredin slowly turn towards her again.
Where had she fought Ciri?
Eredin slowly shook his head at her, "No Baelen we will choose a different strategy. We will be patient. If this… man holds such love for Zireael, then let he and the Witcher do the work for us. She will show herself again… and we will be waiting. You'll have your chance at both Zireael and this… man again. A chance for your revenge… and this time… for your sake… you'd best not hesitate again."
Before Baelen could comment anything, he felt the ice completely overtake him, slowly coming into his vision, until it went completely it was black.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Well, well, well what do we have here. What will Ciri and Dandelion say," He heard the deep voice of his adopted father blare through his ears.
His eyes shot open, the sun piercing his pupils. The freezing cold he had felt in the dream seemed to almost seep into reality, because he felt the tip of his nose unmoving, the toes in his boots stuck together. He felt his bones aching as he slowly groaned, rubbing his hand to both of his eyes, the sun insistently shining through the windows of the room. He heard a similar groaning next to him, and saw Priscilla slowly sitting up with a yawn, the hat she normally wore had fallen off onto her bed, and her hair was in tatters. His bones ached again, as he realized he had fallen asleep without taking off his armor. It was lucky for him that he had fallen asleep on Priscilla's bed, and not in some chair or in the middle of the forest, with the fatigue he felt from the past few days, it wouldn't have been good.
Again, he groaned as he sat up, his feet falling to the side of the bed along with Priscilla. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, to see Geralt standing across from both of them, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
"Have a long night, did we? Now what did you two get up too," Geralt said sarcastically, the smirk on his face getting larger.
He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "You're hi-fucking-larious let me tell you… we were working on our plan to lure Dudu out of hiding we… we did finish it right Priscilla?"
The last thing he had remembered before sleep had overtaken him was arguing with Priscilla if the doppler princes character development through the script had made sense. He had been sitting on her bed at the time and assumed that he had fallen asleep from the fatigue in the early hours of the morning. For a while he enjoyed a peaceful dreamless sleep, until the cold howling winds hit him.
The scene played in his head again, the commander he had fought, Baelen, kneeling before Eredin, begging for another chance to kill him. It had taught him the one thing that he had been craving to know, who the commander had been. He was also finally able to put faces to the name he had learned from Geralt, Imlerith, Coranthir… and he had seen Eredin again. The being that had been the reason for Ciri going through so much of the hell in her life. He would meet Eredin one day he knew that, and when he did, he would be ready.
And he would kill him.
The first thing they needed to do however was find Ciri, despite the fact he now knew this was what the Hunt was waiting for. Even if they had been waiting for Geralt and he to locate her, wherever she was they needed to go and get her to make sure if she did use her powers again, she was protected. And the play that he had stayed up slaving to write with Priscilla was part of the plan to get to her.
The trobairitz yawned, slowly getting up from her bed, and picking up the stack of papers that they had wrote the night before.
A small sleepy smile adorned her face when she turned to Geralt and he, "We did yes. 'The Doppler's Salvation.' Reckon the two of us could've made a true masterpiece given more time."
"Yeah… I think that we could've," He said, a small smile coming to his face, as the sun streamed into the room.
He quickly checked the position of the sun and realized Priscilla and he slept longer then he thought. It was already midday, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was a stark contrast to the dream where his bones had completely frozen over by the end. The sun streamed in and it sent a warm feeling through his body. Thankfully Geralt either had business to take care of in Novigrad or had decided to let him rest longer before coming to get him.
Geralt looked between the two of them oddly before meeting their eyes pointedly, "Alright…. Do you both want to let me in on what you have planned?"
Nodding he looked and met his adopted father's eyes, holding the script up to him, "Priscilla tells me that Dudu was good friend's with Irina Renard's mummers' troupe. They're indebted to him, and our doppler friend always loved going to mummings. So… Priscilla and I wrote this play, we'll put it on with Irina's troupe, it has a hidden message inside, letting Dudu know he can trust us."
He smiled broadly, looking over at Priscilla with a smile. Geralt himself quickly nodded, walking over next to them both.
"Alright that's actually not a bad idea," The older Witcher complimented, looking to Dominik who had the play in his hands, "What's the hidden message, come to the Kingfisher at dawn? Meet at the Rosemary and Thyme? Where did you put it?"
"Yes, the hidden message," he said, flipping through the pages of the play. He saw page after page of he and Priscilla's elegant handwriting, but soon felt his blood turn cold and his face flushed up in embarrassment as he looked back to the trobairitz.
"We… um… did put the hidden message in here didn't we," He asked her, his facing getting flustered red.
Priscilla's eyes went wide again, "Um… secret message?"
"We forgot to put it in there didn't we…." He said slowly, mentally slapping himself as hard as he could.
He sighed and felt a feeling of annoyance and disappointment rush over him. He had been so caught up in his boyhood fantasies of writing a play, that he had completely forgotten why they were writing the play in the first place. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair and turned to Geralt, who looked at him with his arms crossed.
Sighing the older Witcher rubbed his hands over his temples, "I gotta stop leaving you alone when you wanna get drunk…"
"Shut up," He quickly hissed, his face still flustered, as he rolled up the parchment, carefully slipping it into his bag, "We'll have to make do. It's a play about a witcher saving a doppler, I think the message is pretty clear. Besides, Dudu heard that we were coming, he may see this as a chance to reveal himself."
Geralt sighed again, and turned over to Priscilla, "How do you see this working?"
Priscilla shook off her embarrassment and met both of their eyes, "I don't know exactly. I was hoping to recognize him by his scar… or just improvising. We'll worry about that later you both must get the script to Madam Irina. Do you remember where I told you it was?"
She looked over to Dominik when directing her last question and he quickly nodded, "Yeah I remember, be sure to join us later and Priscilla… thanks, thanks for well… helping, it really does mean a lot."
The trobairitz smiled and pulled him into a quick hug, before letting go of him and meeting his eyes, "You're welcome. I really hope this works not just for Dudu and Dandelion but… so it can finally help you find your Ciri."
A warm feeling flushed over his heart, and a real smile came to him. Slowly he nodded to the trobairitz, "Like I said… you and Dandelion get the first crack at the song… I promise."
The two gave each other one last nod, before Priscilla smiled and did the same to Geralt. His adopted father and he both then went and walked out of her room. As he walked through the halls and down the steps of the Kingfisher, he felt his bones rejuvenated. The warm fires, the sleep and food from the night before had all finally given him his strength back. He remembered something Keira Metz had told him back in Velen during there treck through the elf's laboratory.
She had told him that he had to understand he did have limitations. He would get tired, hungry, fatigue, his bones would ache. Most importantly she and many others had told him, he'd be no good to Ciri dead. Keira had told him she assumed Ciri would understand if he simply took time now and then to rest his bones and recover. However, he simply didn't want too at times. That was the situation in the current moment. He could feel himself so close to knowing where she had gone, what had happened to her. From his fight with Baelen he knew that Ciri was indeed alive and fought her recently. As soon as he got to Dandelion he could figure out where she had gone after Temple Isle, which was hopefully into hiding somewhere around the city.
Him being able to rest, eat and drink while still actively pursuing her trail the previous night was part of the reason for the first time in a few days, he genuinely felt in high spirits. He did hope however, that if there was some locked power inside of him like Baelen had been indicating, or if he truly was a 'carrier' of powerful magic blood like Triss had theorized, that whatever power it was, helped him in his quest.
He would even be happy with it simply helping him stay awake longer.
"So all jokes aside, how are you feeling," Geralt asked, as the two of them exited the Kingfisher's front door.
The shining sun hit his face and he breathed out a sigh, "Well I ate, drank, figured out how to get Dudu out of hiding so we can save Dandelion… and finally got some fucking sleep. I feel pretty good…. How about you? How'd your talk with Dijkstra go?"
He remembered the night before; the former spy had been very insistent he talk to Geralt. Whatever the fat man had wanted, he was sure that it couldn't be good. He also wanted to tell Geralt about his dream, hoping that the older Witcher could help him figure out more from what he had heard, if his dream had indeed really happened.
His adopted father scoffed and looked to meet his eyes as they walked, "It's… a lot more than we thought."
Sighing he nodded in understanding, "Yeah… well I'm sorry to add to your worries but… I should probably tell you about the dream I had."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"They want you to help them fucking kill Radovid," He hissed under his breath, just as they entered the butcher's yard past the ticket seller.
Upon hearing what Geralt said, he almost couldn't believe his ears. Dijkstra and Roche both wanted Geralt's help in killing the King of Redania, the man who was responsible for thousands of innocent deaths. Despite all of Radovid's madness however, the man was the only thing keeping another evil from the south at bay. After hearing that Geralt had gone and saved his old friend Thaler, one of the co-conspirators, he nearly couldn't believe what he was hearing. It had seemed so absurd to him, that he genuinely thought his adopted father was messing with him.
However, when Geralt looked back to him, he could see that his second father was truly not joking.
Slowly Geralt shook his head, "I'm not helping them strike the blow. I only went and saved Thaler for them. That's it."
He felt himself scoff again as they walked passed the stage, towards Irina's quarters where the ticket seller had said she'd be.
"Geralt we have MUCH more important thing's to worry about," He said quickly again, trying to keep his voice from rising as they stopped outside the door to the quarters, the sun casting shadow's between them, "Ciri is what matters, we can't be going off and joining assassination plots!"
The truth of the matter was, that if circumstances were different, he would have been intrigued by the idea, possibly even tempted to help himself. Radovid was a menace, who's madness was truly ruining what was left of the Northern Kingdoms. Killing him would make the world a safer place for Yennefer, Triss and even Ciri who all would be burned at the stake under Radovid's rule. A dagger going through the man's heart was something he would gladly see, do himself even if the circumstances had been different than they were.
However, they weren't. Ciri was out there, still in danger from the Hunt. He had spent the last eight years of his life looking for her half-heartedly. He would follow leads on her right away when he found them, and asked every mage he knew about elder blood and travel between worlds, always looking for more clues, and he felt at times he was coming close, but most of the time, he had been doing nothing but wallowing in his own self-pity, thinking about her every day and lamenting the fact he had lost her. There were months on end where he'd just travel around aimlessly, drinking his sorrows away, completing contracts for close to nothing. He always thought about her, but he would only think about how unfair the whole situation was, how angry he was at Geralt, Yennefer, the universe. All that time he could've spent putting everything he had into the search.
And now that he was finally close, he wasn't going to put anything less then a thousand percent into their search. He loved her more than anything before she disappeared, and the last eight years apart had only made that love somehow grow even more. She was all that mattered now, all that he wanted. That was why he couldn't stop, couldn't put anything less then everything he had into looking for her, even if he felt his bones about to shatter. He had failed her too many times in the last eight years, and he wouldn't do it again.
That was the reason he was so adamant, he had wasted enough time, and now he WAS going to find her.
Geralt seemed to sense his anger rising and slowly shook his head, "I understand that. Which is why like I said, I only helped them find Thaler. Only took me a couple hours. That'll be the extent of my involvement I promise… we're focusing solely on finding Ciri from here on out."
Hearing the genuineness in Geralt's words made his heartbeat slowly calm. He took in a deep steadying breath and felt the sun beat off his neck. Slowly he turned around to meet his second father's eyes and sighed again.
"I… I'm sorry I snapped Geralt. It… it's just that-," He started, but Geralt quickly shook his head to cut him off.
"It's alright Dom, I understand. You just want to get to her… nothing else matters to you," The older Witcher said, watching him pace back and forth.
Slowly he nodded his head, feeling his brain race a mile a minute. He felt a tingling sensation in his hands and stomach, as the anxiousness flowed through him like a river.
"Look Geralt I… I'm glad that we've helped our friends through this I really am," He said, turning back to face the older Witcher, "I'm glad that I helped Freya, and George. Obviously, I'm glad we helped out Triss, Roche, Zoltan…. Even back in Velen, despite how I ended up I'm glad I helped Keira. And I'm glad that we could help the Baron find his family and give him some piece but… but to be honest for me I'm starting to go crazy! I'm glad we helped everyone it's just I…I-."
"You want to finally focus solely on finding her," Geralt finished for him, meeting the younger witcher's eyes with a look of understanding, "I understand what you mean. You're ready to finally get to her… after all these years."
He nodded slowly to confirm what his adopted father said, his hand slowly going up to grip the swallow around his neck, which reflected the sunlight.
"I know you love Ciri Geralt, I know you miss her and want to see her but… but… you got to see her two years ago…" He said slowly, the bomb of regret exploding in his chest again as he turned away from his adopted father, "I… I wasn't able to join your group to go rescue her because I was still being a bratty child…"
Geralt sighed behind him. The mummers were all rushing around them, moving props and reciting lines. None of them seemed to pay the two Witcher's mind on that hot day.
"It's not your fault… you had a right to be angry with me," Geralt said, and Dominik finally managed to turn around and meet his adopted father's eyes.
"No Geralt… I didn't. Even if I did, I should have put it aside to find you and come with you. I never got a chance to thank the people who came with you… to fight by your side at Stygga Castle… to fight by Ciri's side and save her…" He said slowly, closing his eyes to sigh deeply, gripping the swallow tighter, "I… I haven't seen her since we were children… children. She's a woman now… I'm a man I… I just want to SEE her."
It had been stewing in his head for the entire journey. Geralt had told him during their travels so far about his company, the trip to Stygga Castle to save Ciri and Yennefer. He of course hadn't been there and missed out on his chance to see Ciri. The picture they had gotten from the Emperor's spies was only what they assumed she looked like. The last memory he had of her, was her waving to him as she entered the portal with Yennefer, her young fourteen-year-old face smiling at him, as she clutched his bronze ring around her neck.
He would have given any amount of gold or done anything just to get a glimpse of her now, even for only a moment.
Geralt finally shook his head, gripping on hand one Dominik's shoulder and turning the younger Witcher around to face him.
"Dominik, this needs to stop now," The older Witcher said, his yellow eyes meeting his adopted son's emerald one's with new fierceness, "You were the one to tell me yourself, no more living in the past. We can't change anything that happened. All you can do now is put everything you have into saving Ciri like you have been."
"But Geralt if I had just-," He started, but the older Witcher quickly cut him off again.
"No but's, no if's…. You couldn't join my hansa two years ago… but you have your own now," His adopted father said sternly, making his head fire up, finally meeting his yellow Witcher eyes.
"I… I do… I really do," He said slowly, remembering his friends who were back at the Rosemary and Thyme.
Geralt quickly nodded and spoke before he could even think, "Yeah and it's probably a stronger batch then even the one I put together if we're being honest."
He squeezed the pendant around his neck and remembered the faces of his friends, all laughing, joking and enjoying each other's company the day before. They had all smiled, and with each minute they were together seemed to become closer and closer. It brought a smile to his face, all he needed to do was add Ciri… and he felt he'd have a group that would make him happy forever.
His adopted father quickly continued when he looked up again, "George just helped you go toe to toe with the Wild Hunt, took out half the soldiers even after he got stabbed…. Faram's becoming one of the toughest Witcher's I've ever met…. And even that Freya, girl can heal almost any wound, and I saw a little bit of what she could do with a sword, when she gets a good teacher… she'll be deadly."
He scoffed after Geralt had finished, "Ha, you should've seen her kill the Bruxa. No hesitation at all, stabbed it right in the back."
It was Geralt's turn to smile as he met his eyes again, "Then of course there's you and me…. We're going to find Ciri, and when we do, with her at our side… we'll kill Eredin, and the rest of the Hunt."
They would. Geralt's words rung true. He had been saying for the previous few days it was time for him to quit feeling sorry for himself and throw himself even more headfirst into looking for Ciri. His company would do the exact same thing's Geralt's had done. They would find wherever she had gone, kill whoever took her, kill the one's trying to come after her. Whether it be this Baelen who was trying, the commander's Imlerith or Coranthir… or even Eredin himself. Anyone who got in his way, in his way of him being able to give Ciri her freedom… they would die.
And it was going to be his job to see it done.
He slowly looked up to meet Geralt's eyes again, "We will… you're right. Thanks Geralt, and well… for what it's worth. I'm sorry I didn't come with you to Stygga Castle."
A small smile came to the older Witcher's face, as he slowly shook his head, "No need to apologize. Now come on… let's go put on your play."
He nodded in agreement and they both turned towards the door to Irina's quarters. It was just past midday so the sun was still high, and he could feel a beat of sweat slowly rolling down the back of his neck. The sense of optimism that he felt after leaving the Kingfisher was slowly returning as he entered the large building with Geralt right on his heels.
A cool breeze ran through his back as Geralt quickly closed the door behind them. The mummers house was large, with at least three floors. The bottom floor had multiple tables for makeup, wigs, and mirrors for making yourself look ready for the stage. Upstairs he could see signs of personal quarters, where he assumed the mummers all slept. He quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the parchments and looked over the title again.
The 'Urcheon of Erlenwald', had been changed to 'The Doppler's Salvation', and he was glad of it. Not just because it was going to help them lure Dudu out of hiding, but because it momentarily made him forget it would be a play about Ciri's real parents. Back in Cintra, he remembered he only asked his father once what had happened to Ciri's mother, and why Queen Calanthe was the one to raise her. His father's face had grown dark, and always refused to speak of it. He never wanted to ask Ciri about her mother because he thought it would've been hard for her to talk about it, and he also wasn't sure if Ciri even knew.
Finally, one day he had gotten so curious, that he asked his mother why his father had never talked about Princess Pavetta. His mother had revealed the story to him, making him swear to never bring it up to his father. It turned out, that very similarly to Dominik and Ciri, his own father had grown up close friends with Pavetta. Dominik's grandfather had died when his father was younger, so by the time Gregory had turned 20, he was already in line to be the next captain of the guard, and had already been knighted by the Queen. This only made the friendship between him and Pavetta grow, as he often protected her along with Queen Calanthe. A rumor even began circulating at one point that his father and Princess Pavetta were in love, and had been secretly together, however, unlike he and Ciri, the rumors about his father and Princess Pavetta weren't true. They simply were the best of friends.
Ciri's mother Pavetta had died out at sea with Ciri's father, that was what they thought. Ciri's father Emhyr Var Emrys was indeed alive, but Princess Pavetta had died. His father had been devastated, and claimed that he was responsible, for when Pavetta left for the voyage, Queen Calanthe and his father insisted that his father go with her to protect her. Pavetta however refused, stating that she was perfectly safe with her husband. His father blamed himself, thinking that if he had only gone with Pavetta things would have been different, perhaps he could have saved her.
Dominik learned that this was the reason that his father was so protective of Ciri, why he treated Ciri as his own daughter, just as he did Dominik and Bella. Ciri was his father's only reminder of his best-friend, and if what his father always told him growing up was true… it was his destiny. It had been his father's destiny to protect Princess Pavetta, and then in turn protect Ciri as well. However, he learned that his father just like he, protected them both because he cared for them deeply, not just because destiny said so.
And now to save Ciri… Dominik would have to put onto stage the story of her mother, his father's old best-friend.
"Madam Irina," Geralt said from next to him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
His head shot up and he saw Irina sitting in her chair, a brush in her hand. The slightly older woman placed down the brush and stood up to meet both of their eyes. After a few moments her eyes widened, and she smiled holding out both of her hands.
"Geralt of Rivia and Dominik of Cintra! The White Wolf and the Young Wolf, Dandelion has told us so much about the both of you. Is he with you by any chance," The woman asked eagerly.
Hearing the nickname Dandelion had come up with for him again made him roll his eyes, "If that nickname sticks… I'm going to strangle him," He muttered loud enough for only himself to hear.
Geralt spoke up for them, shaking his head, "He isn't with us. But we hope to get him back soon. We're actually here to talk about Dudu."
Upon hearing the doppler's name Irina's eyes grew wide again and he could see the worry flush to the woman's face as the sun streamed in through the windows.
"How can I help? We've not seen Dandelion or Dudu for quite some time it's been worrying," The brown-haired woman said, looking between them both.
Slowly he shook his head, "That's because they're both in trouble. Long story short… they pissed off the Temple Guard. Dandelion's trapped and Dudu is in hiding. We need your help to find Dudu, so that way we can save Dandelion."
Irina's jaw nearly hit the floor as she quickly looked between Geralt and he, "It seems this is much more serious then I thought… like I said I'll help how I can. Do you have a plan?"
A small smile came to his face as he nodded, "Yeah… Geralt and I want to put on a play. Something that'll really draw the crowds in. In it… we have a hidden message for Dudu, one that'll make him feel comfortable enough to reveal himself to us."
"And after he does that, we can save Dandelion. We're a little crunched for time, so we'd need to do it soon," Geralt quickly added after him.
Quickly Irina seemed to understand the magnitude of the situation, which he was thankful for. She looked between the both of them again, "Alright we can certainly help with that. But as I'm sure you know one of the play's we already have simply won't due. We need an entirely new play from scratch."
"Priscilla and I already handled that," He said, feeling a hint of pride come out of him, as he handed the script to the woman, "The Doppler's Salvation. Two of us wrote it last night."
"Oh my… a Witcher and a writer," Irina said with an excited smile, taking the script from him.
He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head, "Aha… very amateur but… I guess you could say that."
"Does this mean I'm going to have to deal with you writing Ciri poems when we find her…" Geralt quietly from next to him.
"Shut up Geralt," He hissed, elbowing the older witcher in the gut.
Geralt scoffed a laugh as he absorbed the blow. Irina looked over the first few pages of the script, before looking back up at them, eagerly nodding her head. The sun was slowly starting to descend but they still had plenty of time until sunset. He was happy that it decided not to rain that day, from the last few he was starting to worry that his armor would get even more water damage than it already had. He also didn't feel like sitting to watch a play in the rain.
Irina met both of their eyes again, "This is actually quite good. I'll read it more in depth while we set up. We'll handle the set, actors and production but we do need a few more things," The woman started, looking between them both, "Firstly we're going to need some ushers to keep the peace…. And if we really want to draw in the crowds, we'll need to be sure to get it publicized. Do you think you can handle these matters?"
He felt himself breathe a sigh of relief, and he also felt a small twinge of nervousness run through him. The play he and Priscilla had wrote was truly going to be performed, something he had always dreamed about when he was a young child. He was going to accomplish something he always secretly wanted to do, and he would finally get information about Ciri as well.
So, he would of course do whatever he could to make sure it went well.
"Think we really need ushers? A play about dopplers could be controversial, but are ushers really necessary," Geralt asked the woman, the sun casting their shadows over the room through the windows.
Irina scoffed quickly, "Can't be sure if you've attended many performances, but Novigrad crowds can be particularly… difficult."
"Rotten fruit, tomatoes stuff like that," Geralt quickly asked again.
"Axes, butcher's knives and bricks actually. And like you said, a play about dopplers is sure to be controversial. So, we must hire some good protection for all of us," Irina stressed, her hands going to her hips.
An idea creeped up into his brain right away and he turned to Geralt, "Why don't we go down to the docks? Faram should be there, he said he's gathering the last of a crew for us to sail to Skellige. I'm sure he'd be willing to help."
The idea of having his friend come in to help them brought another broad smile to his face. Geralt seemed to agree with the idea, because the older witcher nodded, "Alright shouldn't be a problem. What was that you said about publicizing?"
"Yeah," He said quickly after Geralt was finished, "If we really want Dudu to show up, we need to make sure we get the world out to everyone we can."
Irina quickly thought for a moment before looking up at them with realization, "Well if we want everyone to hear about it, then we must talk to the puffins. They're a street performing group, if we can get them to promote the play, then everyone in town will be clamoring to get seats."
Quickly he nodded, his hands twitching, eager to get to work, "Alright, where can we find them?"
"They own a townhouse in the bits," Irina said, slightly biting down on her lip, "Although I haven't seen them in quite some time. They must be staying home for some reason."
Nodding in understand he quickly turned to Geralt. His felt his brain flowing rapidly like a river, all the pieces were now in place. All they had to do was pray that Dudu was interested in the mumming. He knew for a fact that if the doppler saw him or Geralt at the premier he would right away reveal himself to help them. If what they heard from Whoreson was true, Ciri and Dandelion were going to send for Geralt and he. Dudu knew this, so surely their doppler friend would realize it was safe when he saw them.
Soon they would have Dudu, then a means to free Dandelion, which meant he'd soon know where she had gone, what had happened to her.
"Time for us to split up," He asked his adopted father, a small smile coming to his face.
Nodding Geralt looked out the windows, "Yeah, I'll head down to the harbor, see if I can't find Faram. You go see if you can find the puffins. Meet back here when we're done."
Sighing he looked out the window as well. The day truly was beautiful, perfect for a mumming, a cool breeze, and not a cloud in sight. After the hell he had gone through the previous two days, all the fighting he had done, it was good to finally have a night where while still looking for Ciri, what they were doing actually excited him. It made him think back to the days in Cintra.
His mother would take him to the mummings at night, he'd sit there with her, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulder, the bright green eyes he inherited from her sparkling as he was so enthralled by the performances. She would have to carry him back to the house when he was young, it was always so precious to him, that time he spent with her.
Something his mother had done till the very end, all the way up until her death, was defend the ones she loved. Whether it was a shady merchant trying to give them rotten grain, a thug at the tavern… or even Nilfgaardean soldiers. She had protected he, Bella, and their father with absolutely everything she had. She protected the people from threats when they could, a thief in the market, a pack of wolves attacking a traveler in the woods as they were there… his mother Sofia was always willing to help, and fiercely defended the ones she loved.
'You know you love someone, when you care about their own happiness more than your own, I would sacrifice the world, just to see you, your sister, or your father smile… you three are my world. When you have someone that you love, love so fiercely you care for their wellbeing more then you do your own… that's something that will always be worth fighting for.'
He remembered the words as if they had been spoken yesterday. It was what she had said to him as he walked out the door for the final ball he would get to attend. The one right before his father and Queen Calanthe left with the army to fight the Black One's. It had ended up being the last night he saw Ciri until they would escape Cintra together. He didn't know if his mother could see it, see that he was in love with Ciri before he did, but she had been sure to share those words with him when he went to see her… before everything changed.
And those would be words he'd remember, as he went to find the person, he felt that fierce of a love for.
A/N: So after the non-stop action of chapters 28-31 our young hero FINALLY get's a bit of a break. We have some very interesting developments going on in this chapter, let's break them down a bit.
First we have Dominik and Priscilla writing their play to lure Dudu. One of my very few gripes with the Witcher 3 was how they basically threw Priscilla's character away after Novigrad. I understand she's recovering from her attack, but you can't even ask Dandelion how she's doing, or get any updates at all after that arc. So I knew I wanted to add more of her to my story.
Then we have the dream of the Wild Hunt…. The name of the commander Dominik fought is Baelen, and it seems she has a thirst for revenge against Dominik and Ciri both… so what's your theories? Who is she? How did a human come to be in the Wild Hunt? Why does she want to kill Dominik and Ciri so badly? Drop your predictions!
The rest of the chapter is set up for the next with some character development and father son bonding between Dominik and Geralt. We also learn more about both of Dominik's original parents. His father grew up friends with Princess Pavetta, while his mother seemed to know his son was in love. What do we think about them? What else are you interested in learning?
Next chapter is going to be a smaller one but will be HUGE for Dominik, for the first time in eight years he'll actually get to SEE Ciri, see the woman she's grown into (thanks to Dudu). How do you think he'll respond? And what about the impending rescue of Dandelion? How do you think the play will go xD
The support continues to be overwhelming. I can't thank you all enough for the reviews follows, favs, PMs, everything. Please everyone stay safe during these difficult times, and I hope that I can bring you some enjoyment during your lockdown! Stay safe everyone and I'll see you next time!