Winter that year was rough. Lambert and Keira moved from the main house into an empty cottage on the vineyard property. Kari and the twins took the room upstairs but that was only a temporary solution. Plans were made for an addition for the spring. Late nights with crying babies and Triss bouncing back and forth between Toussaint and Kovir made for a very crabby witcher. When the earliest of the spring rains arrived, Eskel had had enough of listening to Lambert tease him about his new little bleater, so he saddled up and left. Triss had taken Kari and the twins with her the last time she went to Kovir, knowing she would not be returning.

He had taken a familiar road out through Lyria. He thought back to a couple years ago, when he made his original trip back to Triss, and wondered if the desperate group of refuges had found safety at last. Turning Scorpion's head, he made a slight adjustment to his direction. A few days later, Eskel was ready for a break. The weather was beginning to turn, and he was hungry. Fortunately, his destination loomed ahead, a bright beacon in the dark.

Riding in, he could tell this place was well occupied. Chickens strutted in the streets, windows and doors had been repaired and several horses stood tethered in front of the alehouse. He pushed opened the door to the inn to find it brimming with people. Nearest the door were a pair of rough looking young men. The one closest looked up at him and sneered.

"Get out, freak."

"Shut your mouth Harlin." A woman came from behind the counter and smacked the man over the head with her towel. "You wouldn't have a place to lay your head if it weren't for him." She turned and spoke directly to Eskel. He recognized her pale blue eyes, the loose curl of her hair and the lilt of her voice. She was the woman who brought him a plate of roasted venison that night a few years ago. "Don't listen to that fool. Just spews whatever tripe he hears on the road. You are welcome here, Witcher. Come, let me get you some proper food." Eskel followed her and reached for the leather pouch at his waist.

"And you just put that away," she said.

"I always pay my way."

"Not here. We owe you, is how I see it. A meal here and there and a bed to sleep in is hardly enough for the life we have now. You have a seat. Muri will bring it out to you." Eskel took a seat at a table on the far side of the room. Shortly a girl of about ten came carrying a bowl and bread. She had been one of the waiflike children hanging on her mother's skirt. Now, her cheeks were rosy and full and her curls bounced around her head. The girl approached him without hesitation or fear.

"I'll bring some ale for you." She said with a smile. A man with broad shoulders and thick arms joined him across the table.

"So, witchers actually do come here."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't mean no harm. You're the first witcher I've seen and a place that calls itself The Witcher's Rest, well…"

"The Witcher's Rest?"

"Didn't see the sign out front? Anna named it that. Said you demanded nothing in return for clearing out the monsters here. Just a meal and a bed so she's determined to give you one, every time you show up. I myself came here, starving and the people took me in, fed me. They needed able bodied men, so I stayed. Pretty good place to start over." Muri returned with the promised ale and Eskel thanked her. The girl giggled and ran back to the kitchen. It was a first for him.

"Muri seems rather taken with you, already."

"They usually run for a different reason," Eskel admitted.

"I bet I can guess why. Name's Elias."

"Eskel."

"I'm more or less the Alderman here. Old Tymon passed away last winter. He took me in when I showed up. There wasn't much here, but they shared none the less. He told me all bout you. Said I should keep a look out if you ever showed back up and make sure everyone that comes through here knows what you did." Eskel looked down into his bowl, not knowing what to say. People were usually reluctant to seek his help, insulted him almost constantly, then quickly forgot the service rendered when it came time to pay up. He had never expected anyone to remember his deeds or continue to be so very grateful. Loud clanging bells rang out. Elias stood.

"What's that?"

"Bandits. We have a watch but…" Another bell tolled. "Damn it. We could use your help, Eskel, if you don't mind." Men were scrambling from the inn as Anna ushered the children into the root cellar. Eskel stood and followed Elias out the door.

Outside the rain came down steady and the clash of metal could already be heard. Eskel walked to the middle of the main road as a heavily armed bandit came running up. He stopped and let out a bark of laughter.

"Looks like the good folks got themselves a witcher, boys!" Eskel kept one eye on the man before him as others began to join them in front of the inn. The men of the village came running behind, injured or exhausted. Eskel had seen groups like this before. They were well organized, well-armed, and meaner than an injured chort. Most likely they were former soldiers who found themselves adrift after the war.

Water dripped from his hair, his jacket was soaked but he'd had decades to learn to fight in all kinds of weather. He saw some of the bandits slip in the mud. He could take them, easily, but he waited. He caught Elias' eye and saw him grab the man next to him and take several steps back. The bandit leader took a few steps forward.

"I always wanted me one of them fancy medallions. Looks like a wolf hanging around your neck. I like wolves. I think I'll take yours." Eskel reached back and pulled out his steel sword and held it low.

"Come and take it." He said quietly. The bandit ran at him, laughing and Eskel easily blocked the heavy cleaver style sword and kicked its owner in the chest. He came at him again, angry, and again Eskel easily blocked and parried. With a side-stepping spin, Eskel brought his blade down on flesh. Holding his arm, the man roared in pain and displeasure.

"Don't just stand there! Get the freak!" The others ran at Eskel. He stuck the point of his sword in the ground and using both hands cast aard to knock them back into the mud. One by one they got to their feet, slipping and sliding, and Eskel grabbed his sword and finished them. He walked over to the leader who lay panting in the mud as rain spattered on his face. Crouching down he looked the man in the eye.

"The only way to get a Witcher's medallion is to find one that is already dead. Even then, you have to ask yourself, who or what killed him? You have two choices. You have something we witchers call Hanged Man's Venom running through your body. I can leave you alone and you'll die in agony, screaming. Or I can finish you quick. Take your pick." The bandit stared up at him, spit streaming though his clenched teeth as the pain began to take hold already.

"Quick…do it quick." Eskel unbuckled the chest plate, stood and shifted the grip on his sword.

"Good choice." He slammed the point of the blade in the man's chest and twisted then pulled it free of the limp body. He sheathed his weapon and looked around the men there. Some looked pleased, some stood in awe, all were relieved. Elias joined him with Harlin in his wake.

"You didn't have to give him a choice." Harlin said, confused.

"You're right, I didn't. But then, I am not a monster." Eskel felt a gentle touch at his elbow. Anna stood beside him urging him to come in out of the rain. Another look around showed him the other women of the community tending to the wounded. Wordlessly he followed Anna back to The Witcher's Rest to find his own.

The following morning, as Eskel prepared to leave, Anna brought him a parcel, wrapped in cloth.

"Some cured meat and cheese. For the road," she said. "And thank you again. Remember, you are always welcome here. I believe Elias and Harlin are waiting for you outside." He turned to leave and felt a tug on his jacket. It was Muri come to say her own goodbye. He crouched down, and she leaned in quickly and placed a light kiss on his cheek before ducking back behind her mother. He smiled and left. Harlin had fed, brushed and saddled Scorpion. Apparently, the young man had forgotten his hostility of the previous night.

"I'm sorry," Harlin said, handing over the reins. "'Bout what I said. I was wrong about you." Eskel nodded to the young man and turned as Elias approached, hand extended.

"Well, Witcher, have a good journey," Elias aid. "I'm sure Anna already said, but you'll always have a place here."

Eskel travelled north, skirting the mountains of Mahakam. The plan was to follow the Pontar and cross at Oxenfurt then on to Novigrad from there. He had not been there since right after Geralt's death. The idea of getting to know the dwarf and the troubadour when times were good had a certain appeal.

As he traveled north, an increased presence of the Black Ones was a stark reminder of how far the once great Northern Kingdoms had fallen and that their fate was now in the hands of Nilfgaard. And Nilfgaard clearly could care less. The stain of poverty and hopelessness was everywhere. Emhyr had been on a land grab, expanding his empire to hand over to his daughter, Ciri. A plan that had ultimately failed.

Beside the gates of Vengerberg, the flag of the Black Sun hung. Eskel decided to go around. He was in no mood to tangle with the soldiers. Instead he crossed the river and headed toward Flotsam. When he reached the port, he was dismayed by the Nilfgaard presence. This time, he had no choice. Eskel dismounted and walked through. He had planned on stopping here but the unusual looks he was getting made him push on. Too many of the soldiers had eyed him too closely.

Once on the road again, Eskel felt more at ease. That ease would be upset a day or two later as he approached the walls of Hagge. A contingent of black armored soldiers sat on their mounts in formation across the road. Eskel pulled to a stop. The commander held a falcon. They had been told he was coming. He sat silently. The commander walked his horse forward.

"The Emperor wishes to see you, Witcher."

"About?" Eskel asked, keeping his voice even.

"Not mine to know. The Emperor gives orders and I deliver." The company broke formation to encircle him as they began their trek to Vizima. As they closed in on their destination, Eskel removed his swords and slid them beneath the saddle strap. He wouldn't trust some castle porter with his prized weapons.

The Portcullis was up and the gate open when they arrived. The Black Sun flew here, also. They were greeted by a bevy of stable boys rushing out to take the heads of their mounts. Scorpion snorted as he was led away. Eskel looked around getting his bearings when the commander came to his side.

"Follow me. And keep your hands at your sides, Witcher. I am well aware that you are not unarmed though you carry no weapon." Eskel followed obediently. They had come in the north gate to Vizima. The Royal Quarter. All around were men and women in fine clothes that had been worn too long. Trash was beginning to collect in dark corners and cracks in the walls were left unrepaired. Vendors in the market waited on the few people that had any coin left to spend. A man chased a boy from his shop. Eskel saw the boy duck behind a barrel and share his bounty with a skinny dog. Even being directly in the shadow of the Emperor was taking its toll.

The courtyard was quiet. Servants moved silently and guards stood at attention, unmoving. It was unnatural. Eskel continued behind the commander into the great hall. The commander stopped at the stairs and motioned for him to continue up the red carpeted steps.

Eskel stood before the throne of Emhyr var Emreis, arms crossed, waiting. He had been drug to Vizima at the demand of the Emperor as he made his way north to Kovir and he would be damned if he would speak first. Emhyr didn't waste any time getting directly to his point.

"Where is the child, Witcher?" So, he had found out. It was a matter of time, but he had hoped it would take longer. A lot longer. Eskel said nothing. He had something very precious and he had no intention of giving it up. "So, is that how is it going to be?" Emhyr leaned forward. He looked worn and tired, his deep-set eyes with dark circles beneath the once black hair going grey, his skin gone sallow. He was not a well man. "You think to deny me? I will have what I want. I always get what I want. Geralt couldn't stop me and you won't either."

"You didn't get Ciri." Eskel said coldly even though he knew he was pushing his luck. The Emperor leaned forward and sneered at Eskel.

"You are merely a replacement, a secondhand Witcher, in yet another version of the same story." Emhyr spit out as he leaned back and waved to the guards who roughly led him out of the audience chamber. Eskel kept his attention on the guards immediately behind him, focusing on the thud of each step. It would have served him better to widen his attention or if his capricious abilities had been active because he missed the man that slid from the shadows until he was struck from behind and everything went dark.

The door swung open and the guards shoved Eskel in and onto the floor.

"Here's another one for you." The guard yelled.

"Well, put him where he's supposed to go. I sure can't pick him up off the floor!" A woman's voice snapped. The guard grinned as he grabbed Eskel roughly by the collar and hauled him up before dropping him to a cold slab and strapping his hands and feet. He didn't fight it. He couldn't. His neck and head throbbed, and his vision was blurred. He could feel the circulation being cut off from his hand as the last strap was tightened.

"There you go, freak." The guard leaned in close, his fowl breath making Eskel sick. "Try and get outta that."

"That's enough. Get out." The grinning guard backed up and left the room. "Mikel, why don't you go and get some fresh leather straps from the stablemaster. And take your time just as long as you are back before the Emperor arrives." The guard in the corner got up and stretched then left. The door latched securely in his wake.

"Gods, Eskel…what are you…Oh no…no." Yen had rested her hand on his forehead and felt the hum of magic. Eskel was the one. Her heart sank even as her mind raced. She returned to her shelves and pulled down a small bottle and a larger container. The slab sat at an angle, so she lay the mystery tub on his chest.

"Yen?"

"Drink up," Yen pulled the cork on the bottle and poured its contents into his mouth. Eskel coughed. "What is that?"

"It's going to save your life." She dipped her finger into the tub and came out with a glob of what looked like pond scum but smelled worse. She stuck her finger in his mouth and raked the goop off on his teeth. "Swallow."

"Yen, what is going on? Why am I here? Gods…my head." Yen left him to put the container away. "Are you going to answer my question?" He asked again when she returned, trying not to throw up. Yen looked over her shoulder then back at him.

"We don't have much time, so listen carefully. You are here because of the magic you harbor. What I gave you should keep you alive until Triss can find you. You should also tell her that her precious Council has a spy. I can't control what is going to happen next, and I am sorry. Sorrier than you could know."

"What about the magic I harbor, Yen? What exactly is so damned important about it?" He demanded. Yen looked pained then leaned down to whisper in his ear. Footsteps could be heard outside the door as soldiers filed up and stood at attention. Voices rose as the Emperor approached.

"This is going to hurt." She said lastly before the door opened and the Emperor of Nilfgaard entered. He walked slowly with a slight limp and sat gingerly in the chair opposite the slab.

"You see, Witcher. I always get what I want." Emhyr leaned back with an evil smile. "When you are ready, Sorceress." His voice still managed to fill the room with his cold command even though he sounded tired.

"Of course." Yen took up her position between the two and just before she began her incantation, she looked back at him, her eyes brimming with fear and sorrow. It began as a tingle that started in his fingers and toes but quickly turned into a deep shock threatening to rip him apart. As a witcher, Eskel had experienced pain. Pain that would make a lesser man weep. But this…this was different. It was beyond pain. It was ripping at his very soul. The last thing he heard was his own scream filling his ears.