Chapter 8

'Art is in the eye of the beholder. One mans masterpiece is another man's junk'.

Magnus de Elemental – Portrait painter to the old kings of Poviss.

The Captain, sorceress and the solemn witcher made good time the next morning. Whilst the sky remained overcast and threatened yet more freezing rain; the biting wind had died down enough to make the ride from the village 'Pleasant' to Pont Vanis, if not enjoyable, at least far less uncomfortable than the dismal weather had on the journey the day before. Both Triss and Geralt rode with hoods up to try to stave off the wind, but Reinard seemed to enjoy the chill on his face and freezing ears.

Mid-afternoon the trio finally arrived at the outskirts of the capital and were met and stopped by a group of soldiers that were riding out on official business. The armed platoon of around a hundred footmen and crossbowmen were led by a pair of fully armoured knights arrayed in the royal colours. As they came close enough to talk, the knight leading the column waived a hand at Reinard who, joyously, greeted the man.

"Ho Alfred, well met sir. Off to replace the guard?" Reinard asked, leaning forward in his saddle to take the pressure from his backside.

"Yes, Captain" the older knight responded. "Its good to see you back, the stories have already begun to do the rounds about your recent adventure. It's a damned shame about your men. You have my condolences".

As she watched the exchange between the knights, Triss noticed how the men in the column were already becoming filthy from the poor state of the dirt tracks, muddied as they were now through the driving rain. The men were unhappy about being stopped so that two knights could have a tete-a-tete, but she knew enough about court life and knightly virtue to refrain from trying to interrupt the exchange. She did notice that Reinard looked more animated than he had in days, clearly enjoying the chance to speak to a fellow knight.

"A shame indeed Alfred. I will make good their loss with their loved ones".

"As is right and proper" the man replied. "I dare say the king will want a full explanation."

"And he shall have one sir" Reinard stated. "But first I must finish my mission and escort the king's sorceress, Lady Merigold, to the capital along with the master witcher Geralt of Rivia".

Alfred turned to Triss and did his best to bow in the saddle whilst wearing full plate. A feat in itself and, despite his age, he did a reasonable job in the conditions. "Ah, the ever beautiful Miss Merrigold. A sight to warm any man's heart and such a rare specimen of wonder that I doubt the like of which will ever be found and will make many a man mad with envy. I feel vigour burning in my veins just by setting eyes on you this afternoon m' lady!"

Triss smiled sincerely and removed her hood, revealing her beautiful face fully to the knight and his men. "Why thank you, Alfred, though I beg your apology because I fear your kind words have made me blush somewhat!"

"Ha!" the knight laughed. "The pleasure is all mine; no apology needed m'lady, none at all!"

"How goes it in the capital?" Reinard asked.

"Another murder. A rather gruesome one by all accounts."

"Oh no…" Triss sighed. "Do we know who?"

"A female elf wench apparently. Turned up in pieces splayed out on the king mothers statue of Lebioda in the marketplace. Its caused quite a storm".

"I can imagine it has, especially if the statue was involved" Reinard replied. "Thank you for telling me Alfred, but I'm afraid we must go at haste". He smiled at the two kights and then turned the head of Warrior to the track once more. "Stay safe, Alfred and I will see you in a month, and I will have the wine ready for your return".

"Excellent sir. Very good indeed."

The older knight waved his hand, and the column began to move once again. The trio waited for some time and then continued on the track to the capital. Triss was beaming and looked positively radiant in the crisp air as she rode up to beside Geralt who did his best to pretend he didn't notice.

"And that, my love, is how you talk to a lady and a kings sorceress, take note" she mocked him.

Geralt let the moment linger and then smiled wickedly. "That may very well be the case, my love, but I have three things to say to you in response…"

"Oh, and what would they be?" Triss cocked her head teasingly.

"The first is that I am fully aware you are a kings sorceress and a gorgeous woman"'

"Why thank you for noticing" she chuckled "Do go on".

"The second is that I don't think a lady should be able to burp out the full titles and name of Emyr var Emreis as you seem able to".

Triss laughed a little and covered her mouth with her hand to try to retain a little modesty. "Touche witcher, but you have Roche's men to blame for that". "And the third?".

Geralt steered Roach closer to Snowdrop, bringing the two mounts to within touching distance. He beckoned Triss to lean over and she obliged, smiling like a childish schoolgirl.

"I am pretty sure that ladies shouldn't enjoy being talked to the way that you do when we're alone".

"Geralt!" Triss gasped as she steered Snowdrop away. "How very dare you!". Reinard looked over his shoulder at the pair at the commotion and then turned to ignore them again.

The witcher laughed dryly and spurred Roach on, leaving Triss lagging behind wearing a face that was a beautifully confusing mix of joy, shock, indignation and perversion. When she finally recovered, she spurred on Snowdrop and caught up next to him again, a coy smile on her lips.

"Well?" Geralt asked, not taking his eyes from the path ahead.

"Guilty as charged" she giggled seductively.

The impact of hard, calloused knuckles to skin and bone was sickening. As the blow landed the girl that was dangling by her arms cried out with an exhausted and defeated scream, becoming taught and then limp, her entire bodyweight slumping against the thick hemp rope that secured her to the iron ring in the ceiling. The room was stifling and humid, despite the cold of the weather outside, caused by the braziers located in each corner piled high with glowing coals. The braziers were there for a reason, to cause dehydration and help cast a horrible colour on the brickwork, further crushing hope. On a table in full view of the hanging victim lay several black wrought iron tools for extracting information. They all looked like a madman had designed them.

Hubert stood in the corner of the room as he had been instructed, sweating in his new armour and uniform. Stood in the middle of the room, barechested and glistening with sweat, was the Captain. He was a big man, bald and in his late thirties. Life in the city guard had taken its toll on him, and he had numerous scars on his forearms, and upper arms received likely in sword fights with the rough sailors of the port. He had an impressively toned physique and was very hairy, resembling more of a werewolf than a man. Hubert had been forced to stand in the corner and watch for the last thirty minutes as the Captain had 'interrogated' the suspect of the murder the night before, a youngish girl that was little more than a skeleton due to what appeared to be a lifetime of malnourishment and fizztech abuse. The girl, Mina, was all but unconscious through pain and exhaustion and dangled like a corpse from the rope. She bled from the nose, and the mouth and her lips and eye sockets had flared up with swelling, giving her the look of someone far gone with the pox. She looked dead.

Captain Jerard stepped back and grunted, rubbing his knuckles on his right hand. The dim light from the braziers traced his frame and cast menacing shadows on his deeply recessed features. Hubert gulped as the man turned to him and froze him with a steely glare.

"You see what we have to deal with now, Sergeant?" he growled. "The very dregs. The utter trash of humanity. The worst of the worst. The detritus. And from this, I have to forge some kind of law and order. Know now that it can only be achieved through fear and pain, something that my predecessors never quite understood".

Hubert nodded slowly, entirely unsure if that was the right response. The Captain was not the same man he had met yesterday. Today, as soon as he had stepped through the doors of the room, he had become something entirely inhuman and seemed to be relishing the fact he could inflict pain.

Someone killed that elf and made a mockery of the king yesterday, and I will find out who that was. Right now we have one suspect" Jerard continued. He motioned to the restrained girl behind him with a nod of his head. "And the king will want answers. I don't care who gets hung for this, but someone will hang. I don't think for a second thing this bitch was capable of the murder, but a crime must be punished, and right now she seems like the most logical to dance the rope".

"Sir, if she is innocent, why hang her?" Hubert asked cautiously.

"She isn't innocent Sergeant. Even if she had nothing to do with the murder, there is no doubt that there are dozens of other crimes for which she is responsible. Any of them is enough to warrant her execution".

"Then why are you interrogating her?"

"Do you want to know the answer Sergeant?"

Hubert thought for a moment about his response. He already knew why the Captain was beating the girl, but he wanted the man to tell him. "Yes, I would like to know".

The Captain picked up one of the metal poles he had laid on the table, walked over to the closest brazier and dropped it in.

"Between you and me Sergeant… I could ask any one of my men to do this job, but I believe that if you are going to lead you should never ask anyone to do anything you are not prepared and willing to do yourself. I also enjoy it".

The Captain turned to lock eyes with the broken girl that hung naked, battered and bruised in front of him. She was utterly defeated and misshapen, some of her ribs cracked under his abuse. She couldn't stand anymore and was listed in and out of consciousness. Her dark hair was matted with vomit, sweat and blood, and some of her teeth were missing. Her left eye looked like it was about to pop and her frail frame seemed to be disintegrating, the sockets giving way under the weight and abuse. He gripped her hair and pushed the girls head back, moving his face to within whispering distance.

"Mina, can you hear me?" he asked mockingly.

The girl's lips moved wordlessly.

"Don't worry about replying. In a few minutes that brazier is going to warm that iron up nicely and when its good and hot I am going to start finding places to put it that you wish I hadn't. There is nothing you can do to stop me so I suggest you accept the fact that the next few hours of your rapidly shortening life will be excruciating. Please know that I am going to enjoy it far more than you will".

Hubert shifted on his spot. He had seen men like Jerard in the army. They were the kind that used to rape women and kill the menfolk and children whenever they had a chance. He had seen plenty of them hung from trees but had seen even more rise up the ranks because, unfortunately, sometimes they were required. Terror was a critical weapon in war and few things sewed as much terror in the enemy population as a well-armed squadron of rapists and murderers on horses in advance of the front line.

"Please no…" the girl moaned quietly.

"It's too late for that my love" the Captain replied. "Besides, I am having a lot of fun. Thank you for taking part".

"Sir, she will die if you continue. She looks like she is barely alive as it is".

"I know when to stop Sergeant and please feel free to leave if you cant stomach it. I can see you have lost your colour and look like you are about to puke at any moment. If you leave, though, make sure to hand in your uniform and weapons. I do not need cowards under my command".

"I am no coward, sir!" Hubert replied flatly.

"Good to hear it. Now shut up and pass me that towel".

The trio approached the northeast outer gate, referred to fondly by many as the 'Vanis Anus' due to the dirty brickwork that had been used to create it. The gate stood out from the rest of its siblings. No-one was sure why a different stone had been used for this particular gate, but as it led out of the city via the northeast, and most of the lower grade traffic used it, the builders decided to save money. A guard hundreds of years ago had commented that it looks like the city is shitting out anyone that walks through the gate, hence the Vanis 'Anus' monicker.

Reinard navigated on horseback the crowds of merchants and commoners that were passing through the gate. When the crowd became too great, he stopped, dismounted and hailed the nearby guards. Behind him, Geralt and Triss who were close by also dismounted and waited for him.

After a few moments of discussion, Reinard beckoned them both to come closer.

"The king has left the palace and is heading to the merchant districts marketplace.

"That is where we are headed then" Triss replied.

"Agreed. I will lead us there. I have asked the guards to clear a path for us on horseback so we will get there quicker".

"Good thinking Reinard" the sorceress responded. "The marketplace is only a few minutes away, let us make haste, and we may be able to catch him".

Triss mounted Snowdrop quickly and waited for the Captain and Witcher to follow suit. "Lead on Captain".

Reinard nodded and racked Warrior's reins, forcing the horse to move forward through the crowd and into the open area beyond where Triss could see some other mounted guards awaiting them.

"Coming Geralt?" she asked as she noticed that he was lagging behind.

"Under duress…" he seethed as he spurred on Roach.

Lord Hans Janssen added the last name to the short untitled list he had been pondering over for some time. To set the ink, he picked up a handful of fine sand and cast it over the paper carefully.

He folded the paper note and sealed it with a drop of wax, no insignia.

Later that day he did his best to drop the note secretly into a bucket that had been placed beside a yellow door of a house that belonged to, as far as he knew, an alchemy merchant. He was utterly surprised when the letter disappeared as it entered the bucket.

"Bloody witchcraft" he grumbled as his paced away, his stumpy legs jangling as he did so.

"Make way for the king!" the knight shouted, pushing aside a few of the commoners and merchants that had assembled in the thoroughfare. He was acting as the tip of the spear alongside two other kings guard who bulldozed their way through the masses as if they didn't exist. To Tancred, surrounded as he was on all side by his guard, the way they created space reminded him of how his knife parted through the butter as he ate his breakfast.

"The king!" someone stated in shock.

"Look, it's the king!" shouted another, from the other side of the street.

Tancred ignored the voices that surrounded him, increasing in volume as more and more of the population realised he was present. Instead, he focussed on keeping pace with the knights around him and on the task at hand. He wanted to see this murder scene with his own eyes, and he wanted to show the population that he was taking this personally. The sun was bright, and the air was cold, but he was burning with anger and felt very much alive as his adrenaline pumped through his veins.

A few moments later, the king and his guards emerged into the merchant districts marketplace. Impossible to miss, the large statue of Lebioda that his mother had commissioned stood defiantly in the centre of the large space. The marketplace was almost empty, the first time he had ever seen it like that. He assumed that more guards had been summoned to block the entrances and to remove any merchants that were currently in the area so that they could preserve the scene for the mages and other investigators to work it over.

The body was visible, even from a distance. The guard officer paced ahead of the steel ring of knights that surrounded the king and approached the small gaggle of flamboyantly dressed men who were stood near the statue discussing amongst themselves.

Magic users, and the worst kind, men. Tancred could deal with female sorceresses, and he had an excellent relationship with Triss Merigold, even more so that his fathers relationship with Sheala de Tancarvile before him, but mages made him angry. He didn't know why and couldn't place a finger on the problem, but they frustrated him no end. He had spent a great deal of time, effort and money helping to pluck them from under Radovid's nose years before, literally saving them all from the bonfire. Triss had somehow managed to orchestrate their escape to Kovir. Despite her insistence that they were beneficial to the crown, he couldn't help shaking the thought that the mages had not provided much in the way of a return on investment other than, it had to be said, spectacular firework displays during palatial events.

"Your grace" the mage closest to him bowed as he approached.

The guard around Tancred opened up and created a wider defensive circle around the king, facing outwards and preparing to move as he did. It was conducted with the precision of a choreographed masterpiece of ballet and, as far as Tancred could tell, no-one had given any orders.

"Tell me that you have something. Anything at all…" the king stated flatly at the bowing mage in front of him, a man called Urtwald.

Urtwald stood slowly, a look of concern on his moustachioed face. The man was dressed in luxurious brown, and blue robes and the belt around his waist was of the most refined artistry. A few small potions and vials hung from the belt. Tancred truly believed they were entirely for show and were likely just coloured water. The man's blue puffy hat was simply ludicrous. "We are still conducting examinations your grace but…"

"You don't have a damned thing, do you?" Tancred growled, pushing past the man who staggered as if a mountain had hit him. "Show me the body!".

"Do you think it wise your grace? It's a fairly hideous sight" Urtwald responded after steadying himself.

"Do I look like I have a weak stomach to you man? I have cut people in half with my sword and watched them die as their guts spread out on the floor at my feet. Show me the body!".

"As you command your grace. This way if you please…"

As Tancred approached the statue that his mother had commissioned, he almost regretted his bravado a few moments earlier. The white statue, surrounded by a small ornamental fountain and pond, was entirely tarnished by the dismembered body of the elf woman. She had been stripped naked and carved up in a way that showed great skill and great psychopathy. The torso had been placed in the centre of the piece of 'art', and her legs and arms had been carefully positioned so that they spread out away from the body. Her head and lower torso made up the final line, splayed out slightly in an outstretched manner.

"Dear gods, what makes anyone do this?" he asked to himself, bile rising in his throat. He found that he could barely tear his eyes away from the sight in sick fascination.

The young Lieutenant who was leading the king's bodyguard, stepped forward and saluted with a hand across his chest. "Do you wish me to remove the body and have the statue cleaned your grace?" he asked.

"No, not yet" he replied. "I have requested someone to help with the investigation, and he needs to see this himself".

The Lieutenant bowed slightly and motioned to the mages that were milling around in a group nearby, trying to remain out of the king's wrath. "And the mages your grace?".

"They can go. They have been as useful as a snow cave in the Korath desert".

He watched with only mild interest at the young officer paced over to the group and loudly dismissed them all. The lad had clearly enjoyed the chance to do so and smiled wryly as the mages almost tripped over themselves to escape.

"Your grace, riders approach!" one of the guards shouted from behind the king. Tancred turned and paced forward to stand in between two of his protectors, gazing out on the northeast of the marketplace where the guard had indicated. A trio of riders, one woman and two men approached slowly across the market and dismounted a distance away, securing their mounts to one of the vacant market stalls that dotted the area.

"Well, if it isn't my missing sorceress and Captain of the guard…" Tancred shouted as they approached him. "I was expecting you yesterday".

As Triss approached, she lowered her hood and smiled in a way that she hoped would disarm her aggravated monarch. "I am sorry your grace; there were complications".

"I am aware, and despite your tardiness, I am relieved to find you both alive and well" he replied. "Apparently I owe you congratulations for dealing with a particularly nasty creature?".

"You own me nothing, my king!" Reinard replied, saluting energetically. "To serve is an honour and payment enough!".

"Oh behave, Reinard, I appreciate your dedication but stop being servile, it's so very southern" Tancred dismissed. "However, I am led to believe that it is custom to pay a witcher his due for removing monsters and wraiths".

Triss said nothing in response. She was painfully aware that Geralt had not joined them to approach the king. He was still stood with the horses and doing his best to ignore the situation.

"Witcher, would care you to join us?" the king bellowed over the head of his sorceress. "Unless of course, you have better things to do?".

After taking more than a generous amount of time to tie Roach's reign Geralt slowly, and reluctantly, walked forward. As he came to stand in between Reinard and Triss, he pulled down the heavy hood of the cloak he wore. "Your grace" he stated flatly.

"So, I finally get to meet the famed Geralt of Rivia, the white wolf and the man lucky enough to have captured the heart of Triss" the king replied. "You look older than I had anticipated".

Geralt stared flatly at the king. Triss had promised him she would never read his mind with magic, but in this case, it wasn't required. She knew precisely what the witcher was thinking about the king, and it wasn't pleasant.

"I wish our first meeting would have been under better circumstances" the king continued, ignoring Geralt's stare, "and I have much to ask you. But for now, please accept my promise that you will be suitably rewarded for your deeds in slaying the wraith. However, right now, I have more pressing matters on my hands, and Triss has promised me that you are the man to ask for help".

"I could be. For the right price".

The kings face contorted into almost a sneer. "Oh my, such a vulgar way to conduct business Geralt. But as you wish witcher. As I am sure you are aware, money is of no concern. Name your price, and it will be paid".

"I assume that you have no ideas yet as to who or what is causing these murders?" Geralt replied.

"I suggest that when you are speaking with the king, witcher, that you ensure you find time to add 'your grace' to the sentence at some point" Reinard interrupted.

"Very well. I assume you have no ideas, your grace".

Tancred smirked. Triss sighed with relief. In truth, it was going better than she had anticipated.

"Triss has made me very aware of your views of monarchy and for any kind of authority figure Geralt. I understand that, and I respect your privacy, professionalism and capability. However, for the sake of us both, I ask you to play nicely. Let me make it perfectly clear that I will tolerate you up to the point you cross the line, and then I will lose patience with you. Is that understood?".

"Perfectly, your grace".

"Good. And to answer your previous question, no. Everything is drawing a blank, and the mages that I have at my disposal are providing utterly useless".

Triss visibly squirmed under the accusation. As head of the council, she would continue to take the brunt of Tancred's frustrations of her peers.

"I need to see the body".

"If that's what it can be called, but as you wish" the king responded, "and I am sure that you will have some further questions?"

"Definitely, but first, the body".

"I will join you" Triss added.

The king nodded. "As will I".

Triss was about to respond when Geralt cut across her. "Lead on".

Tancred turned on the spot and began to pace towards the statue, his guard reforming around him, Geralt and Triss instinctively. The figure was not far away and as they approached the guard once again opened up, allowing the trio access to the horrific scene.

"What a poor girl" Triss baulked as she laid eyes on the shockingly brutal display in front of her. "What kind of monster does this?".

"No monster does this. Only a sentient creature" Geralt responded as he stepped towards the statue slowly. "Mostly only humans, dwarves, elves and other sentient beings like vampires are capable of this kind of focused and deliberate violence. Monsters kill in defence or due to a base nature, and they are incapable of premeditated murder like this".

"As you say witcher" the king replied.

"Has anyone touched this scene?".

"The mages that you saw scurrying away have likely prodded into it and cast some spells to make them look important, but the guard would be able to confirm otherwise". The king beckoned over a small, wiry looking fellow. "Corporal, assist me if you could. Can you confirm if anyone has touched this scene other than the gaggle of mages that were here until recently?".

The guard bowed with limited grace, clearly not used to the action. "When we arrived on the scene, there were already some merchants and bystanders surrounding the statue your grace. But we managed to get rid of them sharpish and secure the area. I haven't seen anyone touch it since then".

"Thank you, Corporal. And well done."

The guard bowed again and backed away, colliding with one of the king's bodyguards as he did so, which caused the knight to push the man away with a growl harshly.

"Any witnesses?" Geralt asked flatly whilst observing the body parts from a distance.

"One girl, a fisstech addict who is of dubious integrity and sanity".

The witcher grunted in response to the king. "We need to speak with her at some point but right now give me some room whilst I investigate the scene. Your mages might have missed something".

The king nodded and stepped away, crossing his arms as he did so. "Triss, a word if you may whilst the witcher does his job?"

"Of course my king" Triss replied, joining him to give Geralt some space.

Tancred stood with his arms folded across his strong chest. Wrapped as he was in a relatively simple cloak of dark brown he looked almost out of place amongst his highly armoured and polished guard, armour blindingly well polished and glinting in the cold sunlight of the morning. Only the elegant yet tasteful circlet that rested on his head provided any indication he was the king and had he not been wearing it he would likely have been able for him to disappear into a crowd of peasants with none of them the wiser he had done so. It was a trick that he had played many a time as a youth. Triss had spoken with Sheala de Tancarville about him more than once, and the sorceress had complained about the number of times she had been forced to 'pluck' the young stallion out of the beds of any number of commoners and noblewomen, often literally interrupting him in the act.

"What happened at the village?".

"Where do I even start" she sighed. "We encountered a wraith of a kind and strength even Geralt has never seen before. We banished it, but it killed five of your knights and badly wounded Geralt. He still has a wound in his skull that is not fully healed. He could have died or been paralysed."

"And yet, here he is and still alive".

"What can I say my grace, witchers heal fast. Though he is still far from at peak health".

The king grunted and turned to watch the witcher at work. Geralt stood merely observing the scene, slowly moving his head in a pattern that Tancred guessed would allow him to focus carefully on the different areas of interest. He heard the witcher sniff deeply twice and turn to look in a direction away from the statue, towards the west entrance to the marketplace.

"Found something?" Tancred asked.

"Not sure. An odd scent, faint but clear. It smells like wyvern blood mixed with some mushroom spore, but I've never smelt anything like it. It leads away to the west". Geralt stepped off slowly and stooped lower to the ground as if tracking an invisible trail. He knelt a few meters away from the statue and rubbed his hands in the snow residue, picking up some on the ends of his fingertips. He rubbed them together and finally licked the mush. "You are unlikely to see them, but there are very faint footsteps here that do not resemble any of the footwear elsewhere in this immediate area. Also, there is a very distinct taste to the snow that is crushed in those prints, and I can't describe that either but I would know if I tasted it again. Whoever killed this elf left precious little clues and was incredibly lightfooted, especially considering that they were carrying a body cut into pieces. There is no blood trail from the body, so whatever the parts were being carried in was waterproof, and great care was taken not to spill anything. The elf woman would have weighed what, fifty kilograms? Carrying that weight should have caused the carrier to create deeper impressions in the snow. There is also no sign of an attempt to conceal the tracks so whoever did this knew full well they were highly unlikely to be tracked".

"You can see that?" the king asked, genuinely impressed. "There is nothing there!"

"Yes. I can. None of it is magical either which is why your mages failed to pick anything up. What we have here is an incredibly capable individual that leaves almost no tracks and is very light on their feet".

"Can you track them?".

"Possibly. But it has been a few hours, and there has been traffic since. I will follow the tracks as far as I can until I lose them. Hopefully I can pick something up later to latch on too".

"Perfect witcher, I will send a few of my men with you".

Geralt grimaced. "With all due respect, they will only slow me down, and I work better alone".

"As you wish Geralt".

"Where is this girl at the moment?" Triss asked the king, stamping her feet lightly to keep the blood flowing in the cold.

"I believe they have her at the local guard post. I intended to go there next to question her personally".

"I will join you if that is permissible?".

"Of course, a feminine touch might be of great assistance". The king looked around once more as if taking the scene in for the first time. He inhaled the cold air deeply and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. "There is nothing more to be gained here I believe. Witcher, have you finished with the scene so I can order someone to clean the area and open the market place again?"

Geralt was standing still, ignoring the king. His focus was now locked on the body once more. Triss watched as he cocked his head slightly and raised his right hand to stroke his chin.

"What is it?" she asked. "Have you seen something?".

"Is it just me" Geralt replied after a few moments of silence. "Or does the way the body has been set look somewhat like an open splayed hand…?"

A howl of pure, unfiltered agony tore through the guard post, echoing from the walls. It seemed to linger for far longer than it should have. It was the most recent cry of pain in a long chain but was, by far, the most heart-wrenching.

Hubert shifted again. The smell of roasted flesh and burning hair filled the small room and overwhelmed his senses. The heat in his armour made him feel lightheaded, and he was sweating so much that he was struggling to see from under his helmet. He was weak with heat and the effort of trying to block out the scene unfolding in front of him, but no matter what he tried, nothing seemed to work. Hubert had spent a long time on parade grounds or doing menial work and had developed a way to be very calm and focused on the task at hand whilst being detached from the situation, allowing him a chance to think and daydream. He often spent his time thinking about wenches, betting or the long-held dream of his that he could retire to a small plantation somewhere and raise some sheep and tend to some crops. Not that he knew anything about farming or raising livestock, but a man had to have a dream.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!" Mina screamed in front of him once again as the Captain placed the hot iron against her right thigh. The hiss of cooking flesh and melting tissue as the iron was applied was merely hideous. On a spitted pig, it might have been a lovely, comely sound, but on a human being that was still alive, it was sickening. The girl flinched, contracting in her bonds for a few moments before sagging into them once more. She couldn't even whimper or plead for her life, entirely spent as she was. Right now, she was no better than a corpse that someone continued to enjoy defiling. Her body was covered in bruises and burns from head to toe, and it was a miracle she was even still alive. By all rights, she should have died some time ago and saved herself the continued agony.

"Well this is becoming boring now" the Captain laughed darkly. "I expected you to hold out, but you have exceeded my expectations, my darling". He replaced the iron in the brazier to reheat it and took a step back from the piece of barely recognisable meat hanging in front of him. "I have places to be, things to do and people to hang. Please don't make me late for my appointments, girl. I do hate being late".

"Sir, maybe we should cut her down and leave her in the cell?".

Jerard span on Hubert, pure venom in his eyes. "And why would I do that, Sergeant?".

"She is sure to die regardless, sir".

"Ha. No doubt. But I want to watch the light fade in her eyes. Assuming I allow her to keep them!". Jerard turned and backhanded the girl across the face with a sickening thud like a hammer hitting wet leather. A tooth dropped to the floor.

"On second thought the eyes are next" the Captain growled as he leant to pick up the iron from the brazier again.

Hubert stood, panting. How could this be happening to him? He had been a guardsman for less than a day and had already seen a horrific murder scene and was now complicit in the purely horrendous torture of an entirely innocent girl.

Jerard stepped forward, grabbed the girls hair and yanked her head back. He had picked up the iron in his left hand and was raising it, clearly intent on delivering his promise.

Hubert watched in horror, frozen to the spot. The girls bruised, and swollen face was a terror to behold but her right eye, somehow still open and functioning, locked with his momentarily. She didn't need to speak. She couldn't. The look was enough to convey all of the hopelessness, agony and terror she felt. It was the look of a small child that had witnessed the gruesome death of their family mixed with personal injury and pain.

Plough the job. Plough the Captain. It wasn't right. He had stood anchored to the spot for an hour whilst the Captain slowly killed the girl in front of him. He wouldn't stand for it. Couldn't stand for it. He had watched the psychopaths at work in war, and though it turned his stomach, he could understand the rationale behind it. There was no reason for this other than the sick appeasement of one man's penchant for control, power and inflicting agony.

"Enough, Captain!" Hubert shouted.

Jerard stopped like statue, hand and iron hovering in front of Mina's eye. "I'm sorry Sergeant. What the fuck did you just say?".

"I said, Captain, to put the ploughing iron down and leave the girl alone".

The Captain tensed up in front of him, his shoulders and back becoming as hard as the iron he held in his hand. The man was much bigger than he was, and his torso was like it was carved from living metal. "Well well, it seems like you want to commit insubordination on your first day of employment Sergeant. I think that is a new record".

Hubert gulped but rallied. "Stick the rank up your arse. I will not stand here any longer and let you kill that girl because you are getting off on it".

The Captain laughed and dropped the iron into the brazier. He turned and came face to face with Hubert. "And what do you think you are going to do to stop me?"

Hubert stepped forward despite being painfully aware of how outmatched he was. The Captain was younger by some years, in good condition and was larger in almost every way. "Let her go or I will…" he growled.

Unfortunately, the newly promoted Sergeant never got a chance to finish his sentence. The Captain's slab-like right fist had connected with his jaw, and he collapsed to the ground with a clang of metal and flesh. He spasmed a few times, and it didn't take long for his body to lose control. He pissed himself.

"Now my dear" Jerard continued. "Where were we?"