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Vandal wore a happy smile that soon stretched into a silly grin as he stared up into the ceiling.
The air was filled with ragged, exhausted breaths from all three of them. Their bodies, all sticky from sweat and the essences of their passion, clung together heavy from exertion. Vandal felt like he was the luckiest man in the world; firstly due to his new title as champion along with all the benefits that came with it; and secondly as he found himself nestled in between two lovely ladies, both having expressed their profound desires for him from morning to late noon.
The sun had gone from its high place to slowly dip back into the horizon when they've finished with him, bathing all of Cintra in its orange light. It casted lovely shadows upon Serah and Sandy's beautiful curves as it touched their skin from the open window. The wind started to blow gently into the room, rising into an uncomfortable draft that forced both women to tug at the sheets to drape over themselves.
Serah's eyes were drawn to the faint glow beneath the skin of Vandal's chest, where his heart should be. Her hand formed a finger-man that hopped, skipped and sauntered across the valley of his chest. Her lips curled into a smirk when she felt the heat emanating from within him gently nip at her fingertips, "Oh my, I think warmhearted in your case is a bit too literal."
"Does it hurt you when it heats up like that?" Sandy asked with genuine concern.
"At times, if I choose to ignore it." Vandal replied, "I found that if I exert myself in any way, it helps cool it down to a certain degree. I fear this will remain with me all my days, but at least it will improve my longevity."
"And your endurance." Serah murmured coyly, impressed with how long the lad lasted since the last time they spent together in the sheets.
"Well..." Vandal slipped out from between them and moved to get dressed, noticing how the hours passed quickly and remembered that he would be summoned later that evening to attend the banquet at the king's palace. "I'd hate to leave your pleasant company, but I must prepare."
Serah played with her hair and twirled lazy circles about her finger with her raven locks, "Whatever for?"
The knight donned his shirt then yanked up his trousers, "The king has invited me to join him in the celebration feast at his palace, he will summon me sometime tonight." After he tightened his belt, he offered for them to accompany him. "Would you two ladies do me the honor of coming with?"
"Alas, Sir Vandal." Sandy sighed, "I am too exhausted to endure a night of revelry, after all that has passed. Your ravishing presence this morning till noon saw to that, I'm afraid."
"As am I." Serah concurred, feeling rather sore between her legs. "But even if I had the strength to walk after this, the courts of a king is no place for whores."
Vandal felt a pang of regret for bringing that up, so he let the matter slide. He put on his armor and lashed his sword to his belt, "Will you two be alright here?"
"We'll do just fine." Serah assured him, checking a bit to see if her dagger was where she last placed it. "Do try to have fun without us, darling. But before you go, come give us a peck or two."
His armor made a lot of noise as he walked to the side of the bed. Vandal bent down and let the vixens have what they desired, the aforementioned peck or two, then left the room. He paused to ensure every door and opening to the house was locked before heading for the main gate. He didn't want them to wind up in a similar situation as the one in the woods. The key hung by a small silver chain, which he placed around his neck, tucking it away into his breastplate.
As night approached, the whole of Cintra seemed to come to life as though it only blossomed in the late hours of the evening rather than in the brightness of the morn. The streets were filled from end to end with revelers and dancers, taverns and inns were packed with patrons looking to drink their troubles away, and the sudden flood of Cintran kingsmen saw to the elimination of all vacancies from every brothel in the city.
It was the night of feasting and celebration, a gift from the king to his people for the peace was not to last.
Soon, the small party of court attendants sent to summon Vandal arrived by carriage, finding the knight sitting outside the gate of his house. There were a number of maids, two guardsmen and a man dressed in a bright coral green suit gave Vandal a small bow upon introduction. As the guardsmen unloaded the luggage, the man in green straightened himself up and adjusted the matching green cap on his smooth-shaven head. He was a slender, wiry looking man in his late fifties, but the well-trimmed hairs on the goatee on his chin served to mask this fact about his age so Vandal couldn't be sure.
"Greetings, Sir Vandal." He said, "I am Rikard, your steward."
"Steward?" Vandal inquired, "Are you..."
"Yes, with you as knight of the crown and Champion of Cintra, I am tasked and assigned by the venerable Lord Ubrich Strauss to serve you." Rikard explained, "Along with these guardsmen, Tammen and Ran."
"Evening, sir." The guardsmen greeted respectfully.
"And the maids; Theoné, Maud and Kat." He referred to the maids, who curtsied before him in turn. "On behalf of all of Cintra, our service is our expression of gratitude for your efforts in breaking the siege brought upon by the monstrous undead on our fair city." Rikard had his hand out, expecting something from Vandal. When the knight answered with an inquisitive look, the steward said. "The key, good sir. The key to your estate, please."
"Ah. Of course, sorry about that." Vandal nodded, fishing out the silver chain with the key attached to it from around his neck. He handed it over with little hesitance, but whispered to the steward. "I have two women sleeping upstairs. Do try not to wake or startle them, yes?"
Rikard smiled and bowed again, "As you wish, sir." He stopped to inform Vandal of his summons, "Now, the carriage driver has been instructed to take you back to the palace. I humbly request that you board it with all haste, as the banquet has already begun."
Vandal did as he was told, eager to see what the feast had in store for him. While he hadn't felt the need for neither food nor drink in a long while, if he would ever need it at all, he meant to partake in the festivities in his own way while at the same time hoped that he wouldn't draw any unnecessary attention to himself after all was said and done.
The carriage weaved through preplanned routes in the city meant for kingdom officials to take in the event of a citywide merrymaking such as the celebration Dagorad had his subjects throw for themselves following their victory at the walls. It stopped for no one, till at last it pulled to the stairs of the Dagorad's home.
Vandal disembarked, then ascended the steps. The guards welcomed him inside, seeing the knight dressed in Cintran colors, and pointed him towards the main door. There, he found a fellow knight of Cintra, an elite sentinel as distinguished by the red bordered black cape that he wore over his right shoulder whereas Vandal wore none, arguing with two lords who were bent on banishing him from court. Vandal recognized him from the battle earlier that day. It was Sir Boshly, the knight who fled from their fight against the undead summoner.
"You are a disgrace to your creed, Sir Boshly!" One lord snarled vehemently. "You are a craven and an embarrassment to the crown! You shall not enter the courts of the king, nor shall you partake of this celebration!"
"Call him not a sir, Lord Banthalt!" The other agreed, "By the power invested in me by the Crown of Cintra, you are hereby stripped of your knighthood, your properties and your name! Henceforth, you shall be known as Craven Boshly. Sirs, relieve this dog of his armor and sword, lest he corrodes the noble insignia therein."
Other knights standing by moved to restrain the despairing and dishonored knight, others laid hands on him to remove his armor and sword. Helplessly, the former knight suffered the justly placed punishment heaped upon him and soon found himself no better than the average peasant. He was kicked off the palace grounds and onto the streets, where a crowd of hecklers jeered and peppered the man with stones till he fled into the night bleeding and disgraced.
Vandal watched the scene with a mixture of pity and resignation. It reminded him of his first years as a squire. He knew a measure of what it felt like to fail and suffer the consequences, just a bit. It was disconcerting how easy it was to be toppled from one's heights. Such was the fate of those who faltered in the face of adversity.
And yet, he knew he could not dwell on it. As much as compassion moved his young heart, it was not a fate for him to be concerned with, so he moved on.
If the city alive at night had already impressed young Vandal, he was even more so with the palace itself. Lords and ladies dressed in colorful robes and dresses, ranging from stark red to sky blue or just plain black and purest white, themes to fit the colors that adorned the Cintran coat of arms. Each of the guests wore lion masks of gold or silver, the designs depending heavily on one's gender. The men wore masks that bristled or threatened, the women wore masks that allured or invited.
The knights, thankfully, were not expected to dress in similar fashion. However, they were instructed to carry or don their helmets indoors, save only when in the presence of the king and queen.
"Vandal."
The knight from Saggrel smiled and turned to see the witcher walking up briskly to keep pace with him, which did not take much effort given his superior capabilities. The witcher, like Vandal, was dressed in his armor and brought his steel sword with him which was attached to his belt. Vandal greeted his comrade well, "Ah, Geralt! We're both just in time, party's just started."
"Yeah, let's get this over with." Geralt grunted, clearly finding any bit of revelry there a waste of his time.
A steward ushered them upstairs and down the halls to the southernmost tower, where most of the lords and ladies of the upper echelons of Cintran society were gathered, including the king and queen. There, they found long tables filled from end to end with all manner of food, drinks and assorted delicacies that would make any avid connoisseur's mouth water. The air was thick with mirth, music and laughter. Many lords and ladies danced in the middle of the room, others sat or stood close to the tables to discuss things that extended far beyond mere pleasantries. Even with the threat of war looming overhead, the wheel of politics kept turning.
Geralt knew very well that just behind the mask of formality, the room was filled with ruthless opportunists, wily conspirators and conniving sycophants in equal measure. To the aloof Vandal, however, it was a party of genuinely happy people.
The king's table was further up the room, elevated above the rest by the marble platform two steps from the floor. Both warriors were pushed to sit at the right hand of the king, while his wife and daughter would sit on the left. Queen Adalia's absence, however, was rather hard to ignore as her seat remained empty.
"Your Grace." Vandal bowed respectfully to the generous monarch, then to the princess who sat quietly by her father's side. "Princess."
"Sit, Sir Vandal." Dagorad beckoned, "And you too, witcher."
Vandal took his seat, and upon turning to look to his right, he saw Lord Ubrich Strauss sitting close by. The Lord Protector had his eyes on him, much as a hunter would gaze at a grazing deer. Vandal had no experience in real courts, where there was always an underhanded goings on, certainly no welcome place for one as naïve as he was. He remembered what the steward, the one called Rikard who was sent to his house, said to him about being assigned to serve Vandal by the Lord Protector personally.
"Thank you, Lord Strauss, for sending a servant to help me get settled." Vandal said rather loudly, calling for the attention of the king who quickly caught on to the knight's words.
Dagorad said nothing about it at the dinner table, but he threw his friend a questioning look nonetheless.
A servant girl approached to fill Geralt's goblet with wine. The pretty lass' beautiful braided red hair caught the witcher's eye, and the snarl on his face disappeared into an appreciative smile. Her cheeks turned red as she struggled to concentrate on her duties, but the white-haired man was difficult to just ignore.
"Ahem." Dagorad cleared his throat so he could get the witcher's undivided attention, "I did promise you we'd go straightaway to business, yes?
Geralt's smile was still there as he sipped on his wine. A nice fluffy cake and some diced ham were both placed in front of him and the witcher, in spite of his previous declarations of focusing on moving on to future contracts instead of participating in the celebrations, dined with the king. He did, however, talked of little else but business, so his words were only half-hypocritical.
"Tell me, both of you." Dagorad said to his guest and his newly sworn in knight, "What do you know about dragons?"
Geralt and Vandal exchanged looks. The witcher retained his characteristic silence, so Vandal spoke up. "I fought dragons on my world, the lesser kind."
"Recently, there has been talk about dragons surfacing all across the kingdom and beyond." The king said to the witcher. "I can personally attest to their existence, as they've been seen flying southeast of Cintra, though they've largely kept to themselves as of late."
"That's impossible. Dragons are nearing extinction, Your Highness." Geralt was quick to correct him. "They should be little more than a few dozen by now."
Dagorad shook his head, "Then that leaves only one possible conclusion- that these dragons did not come from the Continent but from the wandering world, just like the undead scourge."
Geralt put down his goblet and mused, "To answer your question earlier, oh king, I've met my share of dragons. Lesser and greater, every instance they were drawn to harm humankind is due to provocation. Have they attacked your subjects? Or better yet, have your subjects attacked them?"
"Neither, as of the moment." The king replied, "But I do recall that humans and dragons, when in close proximity for too long, tend to have fiery disagreements. However, I am not one to act on impulse..."
Lord Strauss nearly choked on his drink, expertly masking his surprise at the discrepancy with his claim. Dagorad, to his experience, was quite impulsive in more ways than one.
"There are two tasks I would like you to undertake. Firstly; I need you to investigate the source of these undead incursions. Secondly; if it is not too much of a burden on your part, ascertain the motives of these dragons." Dagorad then showed some knowledge about the drakes that was crucial to his sound judgement, "I understand that dragons are supposed to be intelligent creatures and are open to negotiations, provided that they're not too hungry or threatened. It is clear that you, out of everyone at present, have the resources to see this through. Save my people from the undead threat, spare us a war with the dragons- return successful in both endeavors and I shall reward you with anything your heart desires. Whatever it is, if it is within my power, I shall grant it. Let the gods be my witness."
Geralt's answer was like an exasperated parent finally giving in to a relentless child's plea, "I'll do it."
Lord Strauss rolled his eyes and downed his drink quickly. Dagorad was always prone to extravagant rewards, but at least with a witcher the gamble was rather safe. Witchers were not keen on leaving the Path, and any reward they wished from their clients were usually in the form of monetary gain. He rose up and bowed to the king, "Very well, Your Grace. I take my leave so I might prepare the necessary documents."
"And you, Sir Vandal, as my champion and knight..." Dagorad turned to the young man after dismissing his friend, "...you will help him."
"I won't let you down." Vandal said with a smile.
"Very good." The king adjusted the crown that was tipping over his forehead, "Now then, with that business concluded, how about we enjoy this feast?"
"I'd rather enjoy a good game of gwent." Geralt muttered.
"Oh, you don't say!" Dagorad exclaimed, "I happen to be a very avid player of the game. Fancy a few rounds with me, witcher?"
Geralt couldn't believe his ears. First monarch he'd ever met to actually dabble in his favorite card game. "Only if you won't mind losing, Your Grace."
"Oho! Challenge accepted." The king set aside his dinner, having had his fill of food and wine for the night. He got up and looked at Vandal, "And you, Sir Vandal? Would you like to join us?"
"W-What is gwent?"
"Ah, I forget that you're not from this world." Dagorad said, "Speaking of which, we must find time to talk about your experiences, sate my curiosity somewhat. Gwent is a card game, the one thing every kingdom on the Continent agrees on being the most popular game in history."
"Forgive me, but I'd rather not." Vandal declined.
"Why ever not?"
"It entertains the notion that our fates exist in hands other than our own." Vandal replied, echoing the words of his long dead mentor, who detested games of chance. "It is a belief my old master upheld when he was yet among the living, I uphold it in honor of him."
"A noble sentiment, one I can admire." Queen Adalia declared upon arriving at the table, fashionably late per the norm. "Good evening sirs, dearest husband and darling myrtle."
"Adalia, thankfully you haven't missed much." Dagorad kissed his wife's hand. "The witcher and I were just heading down for a game of gwent with some of the other lords. I thought it best to show them that I've a mind for strategies outside of the courts or battlefields."
"Yes, people do tend to forget rather easily." Adalia agreed while caressing her husband's cheek. She let her ladies-in-waiting prepare her seat for her, then sat down to dine. "Do try and have fun and not lose your cool this time, yes?"
"No promises." Dagorad said with a naughty smirk, walking out of the tower with the witcher in two alongside his knights elite.
Vandal, however, was bidden by the queen to stay so she could talk to him. She had not properly met the outworlder, only heard of him through her husband and through the loose lips of her ladies-in-waiting. That was unsurprising, given that his name popped up with every conversation and that he'd become one of the most spoken topics in the city. He stayed, allowing the queen to delve into the mystery behind the name.
"You were quick to settle into my husband's company of knights, Sir Vandal." Adalia commented, "An astonishing feat, especially for one so foreign."
"I do hope it does not prove bothersome to Her Ladyship." Vandal said.
"No, not bothersome. Unusual, and I find myself sharing Dagorad's curiosity." She sat back with goblet in hand, "Would you indulge me?"
"I'm not a good storyteller, I'm afraid." The young knight chuckled nervously, feeling as though her penetrative gaze tore at the layers of his soul as a torturer would flay one's flesh.
"All the best storytellers say that." Adalia extended her free hand, "But what I'm proposing is something more of an unorthodox nature. Come here, give me your hand. I shall peer into your mind."
Vandal stared at her, showing her his hesitance at her request.
Adalia was not named The Seer for nothing. She was gifted with magic, particularly that of divination and the mastery of visions. Not many in the kingdom knew the exact extent of her powers, most just didn't care, but Adalia's foresight was instrumental in Dagorad's ascent to throne and his reign after. It was one of the reasons why he was still alive, as Adalia saw beyond the facades of men by reading their thoughts and removing threats to the throne before they even made their first move.
"Don't be afraid, it doesn't hurt and I promise I shall bring you along so I don't wander into places you're reluctant to show."
After giving it much thought, Vandal decided it would be beneficial for someone to see and understand what he'd been through, it might as well be the queen. "It wouldn't be a nice trip, Your Highness, I warn you."
Adalia downed her wine in two gulps and set the goblet down on the table, thinking she'd probably need to be a little less sober for this. "Don't worry about me, I've seen much over the years. I do believe I can stomach whatever's in that head of yours."
"Not like this." Vandal said as she gazed into his eyes, peering into his memories as one would look through a window, and there she saw the madness of his dying world. "Nothing like this."
The cold endless winter, people turning on one another in desperation, the undead plague and the death of kingdoms. She saw faces, young and old, loved and hated. They came and faded like passing candlelights in the darkness of his mind. She felt his happiness, the love and the hate. She too felt the sadness, the crippling despair. Vandal was young, but he'd already witnessed so much horror that would drive many lesser men into insanity.
By the time she was finished reading every chapter and every page of his life, Adalia was already shaking with quiet sobs. She seemed well composed to the untrained eye, but upon closer inspection one would see the small droplets of tears sliding down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she pulled away to wipe at the errant streams, "How could...how could you sit there as though all you've endured is naught but a breeze?"
Vandal smiled sadly, "I did warn you, Your Grace."
"Do you not mourn them still? Those names you hold dear; Father and Mother, Sisters and Brothers..." She whispered the names that flooded her mind, the names of the comrades that died so he could find the Vestige of Warmth. She was focusing too much on the loss, never the gain. "Lamek, Kazzamir, Nelzhar...Old Anres."
"And did you not see those good memories I hold?" Vandal asked, "You asked why I act as if they do not matter. I do not cling to the memories of their loss, I hold the best memories because that is how I want to remember them."
"Mother, are you alright?" Calanthe asked, concerned about the queen's fading mirth.
"Y-Yes, little myrtle." Adalia smiled, "I was merely...touched by this young man's tale. Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine."
"Alright." The princess shrugged, returning to sample a frosted pastry from a far table.
Adalia looked fondly upon the man she got to know so closely within a single night. This was the benefit and curse of foresight, as she delved too deeply in spite of his warning, thinking she could handle the darkness within his mind. It was arrogance on her part, but she knew how to turn this unfortunate circumstance into something good. "You are strong, far stronger than I realized. No words of sympathy would ever suffice, this I know. But for what it's worth, know that I'm sorry."
"Thank you." Vandal nodded, "Let us not dwell on it. This is a feast, and it must be enjoyed."
Still, in spite of his preference for partaking in said feast, both the knight and the queen found themselves drawn back in deep conversation over related topics. Queen Adalia had her concerns regarding the world shards falling upon the Continent, and Vandal wanted to know exactly what they knew about them. He was glad they could move on to something that felt less of a raincloud on their parade, and to something more practical.
Adalia, however, started talking about things of a more personal nature. "Serah and Sandy are...a lovely pair."
Vandal blushed, "I'd rather not talk about that. Please, let's move on to something else."
The queen smiled, having sampled of his fondest memories of the beautiful sirens, particularly that of his most intimate moments shared with them. Adalia found it refreshing to see it work out for one so young, so new to love, that he would gain the affections of not one but two women at the same time. A crowning achievement, perhaps, for those sorely lacking of any sense of morality. She chose not to judge him too harshly, considering the hell he'd gone through to get where he was now. Vandal, in her opinion, deserved that bit of happiness.
"Very well, but let me impart a little bit of wisdom. From the mind of a woman to yours." She said, "Treat them both like you would a queen, and you'll live like a king."
Vandal nodded shyly, "I'll...I'll try to remember that."
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Well, y'know what they say about all women being queens.