They had started early and had pushed at a steady pace until they were out of the borders of Toussaint. Rayden sat relaxed in the saddle. Eskel had worked him hard over the remainder of last summer. When he complained, Eskel worked him harder still, giving his son a taste of the brutal training that he had gone through after the mutations. Most evenings, he could barley lift his fork. When the family had left Pont Vanis for Toussaint, the training continued. He worked him in the vineyard then made him train. When the weather turned too cold for sword play outside, Eskel took him into the wine cellar beneath the house and they meditated for hours. Meditation was something that had been easy for a witcher, being able to slow his own body's functions, but for Rayden it was a challenge of sheer will. Eskel knew that if he could master meditation, he would be able to master himself and his temper.
They had been traveling in the Northern Kingdoms for several days and Rayden was beginning to see the devastation and despair that the Emperor had wrought. They assisted a few travelers with basic tasks like fixing a broken wagon or helping a father hunt down a wild boar to feed his family. When they continued on, he rode in silence contemplating what he had seen and what it would mean for him and his future. They rode for a solid day without seeing without seeing another living creature when a cloud of dust up the road came into view. Eskel slowed and Rayden followed suit.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nilfgaard. A patrol group. Come on. We need to get off the road." They galloped off into the scrubby trees and dismounted. The pair squatted down and watched as the group of soldiers rode past. Rayden scrutinized Eskel's profile. Despite their pace, they had started off relaxed in Toussaint, but Rayden got to see a whole new side of Eskel once they entered the Northern Kingdoms. Nothing escaped his notice. Rayden wondered how many times in his life he had sat just like this, silent and waiting, still as a statue. It was certainly something he was never going to perfect. They stayed like this until the dust had settled and the sound of hoofbeats could no longer be heard.
"Let's go." Eskel knew they were getting close to their destination. By nightfall they saw the warm light ahead. A guard nodded solemnly as they rode beneath his perch into the bustling village. A few curious eyes turned their way and it made Rayden nervous. He had heard the stories of hate and fear. Seen it himself to varying degrees. Glancing at Eskel, he saw his father at perfect ease, so he took a deep breath and focused inward, like Eskel had taught him, and he felt the anxiety slide away.
They dismounted in front of the tavern and tied their horses to a signpost. The Witcher's Rest. Inside was bright and raucous laughter filled the air. The people here were a happy lot, Rayden thought. Odd in this part of the world. Being here made one think that outside these walls was merely a bad dream.
"Eskel!" Rayden's attention snapped back as a woman with dark curly hair trotted out from behind the bar and approached them. "It's good to see you! As always, your room is waiting. This must be your son." She had turned her attention to Rayden. He noticed that while she was young, she was not in the first blush of youth.
"It's good to see you, too, Muri. And yes, this is Rayden." Rayden nodded in greeting but said nothing. He was still trying to take it all in.
"Well, Rayden, welcome to the Witcher's Rest. You two find a seat and my Darla will be out with a hot meal." She gave Eskel's arm a squeeze then hustled back behind the bar. The doors opened and Eskel bumped into the man who came through.
"Pardon me," Eskel said but the man was in a foul mood and spoiling for a fight. He pushed back at the witcher and sneered.
"What are you? Some sort of freak?" He spat out loudly. The previously raucous tavern was suddenly deathly still and several of the men throughout the room had stood. One older man, broad shoulders and grey hair, spoke.
"I suggest you get what you need traveler and move on." His voice was calm yet contained an air of authority.
"Ya hear that, freak?" The man shoved Eskel's shoulder again. Eskel stood silent, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him.
"I wasn't talking to him. I was talking to you." The newcomer looked around and seemed surprised when he realized that all the angry eyes were turned on him and not the mutant in front of him. Muri appeared and handed over a small burlap sack.
"Traveling rations. We never send anyone away empty handed." She said as she extended her palm, waiting for payment. The man stared hard down at her and Eskel cleared his throat. Coins clinked into her palm and he left. Everyone returned to their seats and the loud laughter and conversations resumed.
"What just happened?" Rayden asked, baffled. Eskel chuckled lightly and led him to an open end of a long table. "The Witcher's Rest? What is this place? I saw your picture over the bar. You have a history here." A girl of eight or nine placed two bowls of stew on the table. Eskel thanked her and she smiled brightly at him.
"I am a celebrity of sorts here. See the older woman behind the bar? Her name is Anna. Muri was a half-starved child when I was hailed by a group of refugees looking to find a place to call home. Most places had been completely razed but this village was still standing except there were ghouls. They asked if I could clear them out." He took a bite of the stew, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before continuing. "So, I did." Rayden continued to eat as he looked around. He had gone to the taverns in Pont Vanis and Beauclair and there were always sideways glances and dagger stares, not to mention all the fights he had gotten into because of a slanted word against his father, but not here. Some even raised their tankards and smiled in their direction. Two tankards banged against the tabletop, breaking his train of thought.
"Muri tells me you brought your boy this time," Anna said as she gave Eskel a gentle tap on the shoulder. He slid over and made room for her to sit. She looked at Rayden with a discerning eye. "Not really a boy though, is he? I can see the confused look on your face. Not used to people being kind to a witcher, are you?"
"Not really, ma'am, no."
"Well, around here we are. And those of us that were here in the beginning make sure that the new folks know to whom they are to be grateful to." Anna glanced over at Eskel then back to Rayden. "He never told you, did he? What he did here?"
"No, ma'am." Rayden replied as he looked over at Eskel but Eskel kept his eyes on his ale.
"I was just doing my job." He murmured.
"Like hell you were," she said with a smile. Anna turned her attention to Rayden. "My papa used to say that a witcher's eyes were yellow because all they saw was gold. He cleared out the monsters and brought us two deer that night. Never asked for a thing except a place to bed down and a hot meal. I brought him that meal. Everyone else was too afraid. He saved our lives that night. Come morning, he was gone. I pledged that since all he asked for was a bed a meal, I would give it to him. And I have. Every year he stops through, he always has a place here with us." Rayden sat in silence. He knew Eskel still took paid witcher's work. What he hadn't known, was that Eskel never asked for gold or set a price for those that truly needed his help. He took whatever was given and if that seemed too much for the giver, he declined or found a way to leave it behind.
Eskel never balked or resented his lot in life. Even through the heartbreak of lost love. He was made to help people and he actually enjoyed the work. Going on the hunt, solving mysteries, and helping the deserving. Now, between Triss' income and the vineyard, he no longer needed to haggle over every coin and could take pleasure in being a witcher. Eskel cleared his throat.
"So, ah, we saw a Nilfgaardian patrol on our way here. Have much trouble with them?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Anna sighed. "They show up from time to time and take whatever they want. Food, medicine, women…" She shook her head.
"What?"
"Do I need to spell it out? It was a few years back. Pretty girl, too. Threw herself in the river not long after." They sat silent for a few moments before Anna stood. "I'll leave you to your drinks, now that I've put a sour mood in the air." She patted his shoulder then turned back to the bar. The two men sat quietly for a brief moment.
"You're a hero to these people." Rayden said.
"It's what I was made to do. I don't go looking for accolades." He took a deep drink. "You should get some rest." Rayden nodded as he stifled a yawn then stood and made his way toward the rooms for let. Only one had a special sign hanging on it. Reserved it read. He smiled as he entered and stripped off most of his gear and lay down on the bed. An hour later, sleep continued to elude him, so he went back out to the tavern. Across the room sat Eskel and the man that had spoken up earlier that evening. They were laughing over their tankards as they swapped stories from the last year. Rayden took a seat and watched, not wanting to intrude. Muri dropped her worn apron on the table and sat across from him.
"They do that every year. Sit and talk into the wee hours. His name is Elias. He showed up when I was still a kid and took over after Old Tymon died. He married my Mom." She turned her gaze back to the young man. "So, what's your story?"
"My story?" Rayden asked, confused.
"Yeah. What are you planning on doing with yourself or are you just going to drift around for the rest of your life?" Muri leaned forward on the table, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. He looked at her for a moment then, taking in her ease and sincerity, he began to talk.
"I haven't given it much thought. There is one thing that hangs over me…"
"What is it?"
"It's…it's something I am supposed to do but not sure I want to. I never asked for it. Never wanted it and never fully understood it until I was about sixteen. It'll change everything I know…"
"So? I'm pretty sure Eskel didn't ask to become a witcher."
"It's not the same." Rayden huffed.
"It's not? Seems like it, so what's the problem?" Muri pressed.
"I…I don't know."
"I think you do. Just say it." She continued to press him. Rayden fidgeted under her gaze, her brown eyes seeming to peer straight down into his soul. He gave a heavy sigh before he spoke.
"I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid of what it could mean. Once we left Toussaint, the grim reality of the world hit me. There are beggars in Beauclair and Pont Vanis but nothing like what I've seen in the Northern Kingdoms. We picked up a couple of paying contracts on our way but spent more time just helping people out. I can't even count the ones we passed by. There are so many in need. How can anyone help them all?" Rayden felt a burden lift having gotten it off his chest. Muri mused silently for a moment before replying.
"All any of us can do is take one step at a time. Help one here, one there and maybe they will do the same. You are trying to focus on the whole thing at once. Don't. You can't fix that. Focus on the one thing you can do, whatever that is. Whenever that is.
For instance, around here we hang onto what Eskel did for us. It's that gratitude that pulls us together and makes us lend a hand to anyone who comes through who may need it. It's not much but we do what we can, and I'd like to think it will eventually make it beyond these walls." Muri patted his arm and stood. "I should go. My family will be wondering what happened to me. And if I were you, I wouldn't wait up for him." Muri indicated Eskel and then turned and left. Rayden stood and drug himself off to bed. He was suddenly so very tired. This time sleep found him easily.
The following morning, Eskel and Rayden stepped out into the early morning light only to discover a group of local men arguing with a several Nilfgaardian soldiers. Eskel put his hand to Rayden's chest.
"Wait here." He said quietly before joining the group. Rayden crept forward to better hear what was being said.
"No, what we could spare has already been taken by another patrol. We have our own to think of." Elias said, his voice firm and steady.
"You don't have the luxury of saying no, old man. The Emperor of Nilfgaard owns the land and everything on it. It is your duty to support those that serve him." The soldier rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon.
"I don't think so," Eskel interjected as he stepped up beside Elias. The soldier's eyes lit up with recognition.
"Witcher. You would know better than any about possessing something that doesn't belong to you. I wonder what His Eminence would say if I brought him your head?" he replied as he pulled out his blade. Eskel responded in kind, swinging his sword around to a backwards handhold.
"I'd like to see you try."
"You do realize that if you strike me down, my men will slaughter every man, woman, and child in this place. Might do that anyway…" he mused. Rayden had heard enough. One step at a time. He pulled himself up and strode purposefully down the incline to the square, a controlled anger boiling in his blood. The villagers had backed away from the two men with swords. The other soldiers just gawked and leered around them.
"What is going on here?" Rayden demanded. His voice boomed through the square, surprising even him, though he did not show it. Again, he saw the light of recognition in the soldier's eyes just before he sheathed his sword and dropped to a knee. Rayden held his head high as the rest of the company followed suit. Rayden stood before the solitary soldier, feet wide, arms crossed.
"You know who I am, then." I was not a question. He said it as if he full well expected them to know.
"Yes, Your Highness. It's hard not to."
"That so?"
"Yes, Your Highness. You greatly favor His Eminence." Rayden continued to stare down at him as he recalled a painting he had once seen in the castle at Beauclair. And yes, he did favor Emhyr var Emries. He supposed that came from his mother. Rayden leaned down, his hands on his knees and spoke quietly and harshly.
"Now, this is what is going to happen. You and your men are going to leave. You are going to make it known that any Nilfgaardian soldier that comes this way will camp outside the walls. You will bring coin for what you need. And you will keep your hands, among other things, to yourself." Anger was etched across Rayden's face as he hissed at the man bowed before him, spittle landing on his face. "This village is under my protection. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Your Highness." He replied without hesitation. Rayden straightened up and dismissed him with a wave of his hand before heading back up to the inn.
"When I come back out, you'd better not be here," Rayden called over his shoulder then stopped just short of the door.
"Well said." Muri was leaning against the door frame.
"You knew, didn't you?" he asked her. She nodded.
"Are you still afraid?"
"A little. It's still not a choice I want to make."
"Looks like you've already made it. Now you just need to understand why you made it. But I suspect you know that, too, deep down." She pulled the towel from her shoulder and returned inside.
"Rayden," Eskel called. He slumped a little where he stood and turned to face the witcher, the only father he had ever known.
"Look, Dad, I'm sorry," Rayden lowered his head, feeling like a kid again. It was so strange since he had felt so powerful just a moment ago.
"It's alright, son. You are starting to understand why I do what I do. Why I wanted you to come out with me. You have a hard decision to make and you need to see all sides of the world we live in."
"I don't want to sit on a gilded throne."
"Sometimes there are no good choices."
After saying their goodbyes, they rode out on The Path again, skirting around Vengerberg and taking the road through the mountains of Mahakam. Eventually they came to more populated areas in Temeria and Rayden got to see even more misery close up. There were a few settlements that had managed to spring back to life but even then, they were meager.
Just east of Carreas, they stopped to help a man catch his cow after a pack of wolves spooked it. North of Brenna, Eskel gave the last of his bread and cheese to a woman with two waiflike children. Inside Vizima, the stench of despair was strongest. They rode straight through from the south gate to the north only stopping at an inn in the slums to replenish their supplies. As they neared the northern gate, Eskel had to physically grab Rayden and hold him on his horse as they rode past two black ones assaulting a woman in a dark alley. Her screams would echo in his head for days.
Once they crossed into Redania, the abject misery eased but not by much. The southern border was littered with the wealthy who managed to hang on to some portion of their treasures while the less fortunate were forced to go north to eek out a living or beg on the streets. The disparity was more prominent closer Novigrad. When they approached the city gates, Rayden could see that even the Black Ones had to stand in line to pass through the mountainous walls. More often than not, they were turned away.
As the sun sunk below the horizon, Eskel and Rayden took their place in the long line that ran through the village that stood in the shadows of the city. Here, the beggars abounded seeking the mercy of those wanting to pass through the gates. Rayden felt his heart sink. Glancing at Eskel, Rayden could see his jaw clenched tight even as he looked straight ahead. Eventually, they approached close enough they could hear the guard turning away a handful of Nilfgaard soldiers.
"We serve His Eminence, The Emperor of Nilfgaard and all his Territories," one of the soldiers was saying. The guard remained slouched and rolled his eyes.
"Don't give a shite who you serve. Your Emperor don't mean nothin' in Novigrad! Now shove off!" The group mumbled and cursed but turned and left, leaving the guard to continue nodding through familiar faces. When their turn came up, the guard stepped forward.
"Witcher," he said in greeting. "This one with you?" He indicated Rayden.
"He is," Eskel replied. The guard continued to eye Rayden suspiciously.
"He has the look of those Nilfs about him."
"From his mother. I raised him."
"Very well," the guard nodded and stepped back, waving them through. Rayden ventured to ask a question.
"Why the long line?"
"First time to the Free City then? The other two gates are exit only. Those Nilf bastards come in and stir up trouble. Think they own the place. Fuckers. Uh, no offence."
"None taken," Rayden replied as he tapped his horse forward. They trotted through the gate and made an immediate right turn, following the wall to the stables. After pulling all their gear and brushing the animals, Eskel gave the stable boy a generous handful of coin."
"That was a big tip for a stable boy," Rayden commented as he hefted his saddle over his shoulder.
"Theft prevention," Eskel replied as he picked up his own belongings. As they left, the boy returned and tied a white ribbon to each horse's tail. "City is run by thieves and gangsters. If you are willing to pay, you have nothing to fear. Learned that the first time I came here when Scorpion killed the thief that came for him." They continued through the late-night crowds that became thicker as they approached their destination. The Rosemary and Thyme stood near the wall at the end of the street. Bawdy laughter echoed into the night as Eskel opened the door.
For a second time, Rayden had the sensation of being transported somewhere else as the bright light, music and laughter rose up to greet him. He followed Eskel into the room and once again heard his father greeted jovially. This time from a deep voice. Rayden followed the sound not to a large man but a dwarf with a very full brown beard.
"Eskel, lad! Welcome!" The dwarf snapped and two young men scurried forward to take their gear. "Third floor guest suite," he said to the curriers then turned back to them. "So, you must be Rayden. It's good to finally lay eyes on you."
"Yes, I am," he laughed lightly. "Thank you. You must be Zoltan."
"That I am laddie, that I am. You two grab a seat. Ol' Dandelion is here somewhere." Rayden took the opportunity to look around as they sat. The paint on the walls was fresh and bright, the place was clean. There was a blonde boy of about eighteen with a lute playing and singing as girls danced and men drank. The other waitresses were dressed provocatively yet no one tried manhandling them.
"What'll you have?" Rayden looked up and sucked in his breath at the young woman before him. Also about eighteen, she was dark haired with blue eyes and she was stunning, her voice angelic. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You can wipe that look off your face 'cause I'm not on the menu."
"Sorry," he mumbled. "You just remind me of someone." Eskel listed off food and drink and the girl nodded then left.
"Watch yourself. That is Dandelion's daughter, Delilah, and she doesn't fool around. Not sure where she got that from. Her twin brother, Julian, is on stage. He's just like his old man. They both got their mother's voice. Just wait until you hear Delilah sing."
Food and drink was delivered, followed by Zoltan and Dandelion. The bard was garishly dressed as usual and had gray streaking his dark hair at the temples. His broad grin revealed the crinkling of age around his eyes.
"Eskel! Grand to see you! Lo'! Is this young Rayden I have heard so much about?" Zoltan sighed and muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes.
"Take it down a notch, Dandelion. Yes, this is Rayden." Dandelion pumped Rayden's hand in greeting before taking a seat.
"You have watched my children grow up and this is my first glimpse at yours! It is a day to mark, my friend!" Eskel laughed and shook his head. He gestured to the stage.
"Got him on stage now? What's he singing about?"
"Oh, the usual. I taught him all the ones about the White Wolf. Everyone loves those. He wrote one or two about yours truly and even one about you."
"Me?" Eskel was genuinely surprised.
"Oh yes. Remember when he asked your about how Geralt died? He wrote a final chapter in the White Wolf saga and about the brave Witcher who, at his greatest grief, buried the legend then continued on, saving humanity and slaying monsters."
"Good grief." Eskel sighed.
"Nah," Zoltan interjected, "it's really quite good. Julian is a little less flowery than his sire. And it doesn't mention you by name." Eskel nodded his relief. He didn't want to be someone's muse. "So, why the traveling companion?"
"Someone needed to see the world for what it is." The company at the table turned serious, even Dandelion.
"You have a hard decision, laddie. I don't envy you." Rayden looked down at his hands clasped in his lap. He felt suddenly claustrophobic.
"Yeah…look, I'm going to go take a walk. Look around a bit." He stood as Eskel gave a silent assent. Dandelion reached into his pocket.
"Here, take this. If you get stopped, show them this. Just be sure to give it back." Rayden examined the medallion. One side had a rough-hewn crown while the other depicted a rat.
"Thanks." Rayden pulled up his hood and strode out into the dark streets. Once out away from the brightly lit Rosemary and Thyme, he breathed a sigh of relief. Every one of his father's friends seem to know about his 'decision' and he wasn't sure what to make of that. The way they looked at him as if they felt sorry for him. Except Muri. She hadn't looked at him with pity. He heard a scream up ahead and jerked head to face down a dark alley.
A woman and a man came stumbling out, laughing and drunk. They held onto one another as they tottered down the street, stopping occasionally to grope and kiss. Rayden heaved a sigh of relief then walked on, glancing up at the buildings and watching the people. Some went about their business, keeping to themselves. Most likely people who worked in the city but lived outside its protective walls. A blacksmith hammered at his anvil as the finished swords glimmered in the light of the forge. He stopped to watch for a moment, recalling the smith at home in Pont Vanis who would be taking his sister as his wife this summer. She would be fortunate to live there under Jarek's protection and never see the misery he had seen. Eskel had been right. He lacked direction and every step on this journey put him closer to his path in life. Whatever that was. Right now, all he knew was that Izzy could never have done it.
Footsteps alerted him that he was being followed. A meaty hand grabbed his hood and pulled it back. Rayden stared at the two men before him. One dressed as a city guard the other was something else entirely. His lightweight armor was too fine a quality for a mere guard and although it had seen use, it was in excellent condition.
"Who let a Nilf in?" The guard spat.
"I came in with the Witcher."
"That so?" Said the mysterious man as his eyes ran over the young man before him. Rayden pulled the medallion out of his pocket and held it out. The man picked it up and examined it closely. Rayden memorized the long line of the man's nose, his strong chin. It was a face he thought he should remember.
"Keep your nose clean, Witcherboy." The man flipped it back to him and they were gone.
He continued on down the partially cobbled street until he reached the docks. Deckhands worked in the night to load cargo while the sailors sought their pleasure in the local whore house. The guardsmen were particularly vigilant here. Rayden even witnessed the exchange of money for protection. If not paid, the captain might find his ship torched. But no one seemed to mind. Paying for the neutral protection seemed the far better alternative than what lay outside the purview of the rat king.
As the hour grew later, the streets began to empty as people sought their beds. Rayden walked through the close residential buildings; rope strung between to hang laundry. Women bustled about with late night chores as their children slept and their men rested after a hard day's work. Even though their situations seemed desperate to him, compared to what he had seen on the road, these people lived in luxury. Turning the corner, he stopped in front of a large house as a woman hailed him. Her mode of dress and the sheer lateness of the hour told him this was a brothel.
"Come'n luv," she said as she leaned over the rail her red curls brushing over her ample breasts. "Haven't had such a cutie as yourself in a while." Tempting. But not tonight. He closed his eyes for a moment as a familiar scent wafted by him. An ache in his chest forced him onward. It had been a while since he had sought refuge in a brothel. Mostly when the urge couldn't be denied any longer. But she was always on his mind.
When he arrived back at the Rosemary and Thyme, the patrons were beginning to file out and the cleanup inside had begun. Delilah was at the bar stacking the smooth wooden tankards. He sat on a stool in front of her.
"Am I in time for a final drink?" She eyed him but poured the drink and set it in front of him. He stared at the light froth then took a lingering drink. He heard the bouncer drag a drunk out the front door and hurl him into the street.
"This really your first time in Novigrad?" Delilah ventured to ask.
"Yes." Rayden answered quietly.
"You've led a sheltered life." She said with pity in her voice. One more person to pity him and it disgusted him.
"Not really." He'd seen things. Done things. His parents never hid from him what the world was like. It had just never been this…close. It all seemed so personal to him and he couldn't put his finger on why.
"Bet you're dreaming about that cushy throne after all you've seen." Delilah said, trying to make a joke but it fell flat.
"Oh, so you know, too?" He snapped. She at least had the decency to look ashamed.
"I heard Eskel and Papa talking one time a few years ago."
"Know him well?"
"All my life. He used to bring trinkets to Julian when we were little. He still has the chort tooth."
"Not you?"
"I never asked for anything. But he has always been kind to me. He did bring me something once. Last summer when I turned eighteen. A necklace." She pulled the chain from her blouse and Rayden recognized the craftsmanship from a jeweler in Toussaint. "Look, sorry about snapping at you earlier. Men tend to get the wrong idea about why I'm here. That and you look like…them."
"Them?"
"The Nilfs. Nilfgaardians. Usually means trouble. Papa went to the Rat King after a horde of the beasts came in, drank and ate their fill then refused to pay. Instead they tore the place apart. Tried to grab me. I was fifteen. The king gave Papa a medallion and that's when the guards started turning them away. I don't know what he promised to accomplish that. I don't want to know." Rayden pulled the medallion from his pocket and slid it over the bar toward her.
"Here. He told me to be sure and give it back. Came in handy. Thanks." She nodded and slipped it in her pocket as Rayden stood and went upstairs.
The gardens at the Temple of Melitele were in full bloom. Bright colors mixed together with various shades of green to create a lush landscape. Eskel looked beside him at the beautiful young woman on his arm. The breeze blew through her long tresses as she looked up at him with a smile. I love you, Papa she whispered before he placed her delicate hand into the large palm of the blacksmith's son, Jarek. Eskel stepped back with Triss as they and the other guests watched the priestess conduct the ceremony that bound Jarek and Isabella together as husband and wife. When the groom took his bride in his massive arms and gently kissed her, Rayden slipped out. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled as he walked slowly toward the square.
"Sneaking out of your own sister's wedding? Tsk, tsk." He turned to find a dark haired, blue eyed beauty leaning against the temple's wall, her chestnut hair shining with red highlights in the summer sun. Grinning he joined her against the warm stone, one hand on the wall, the other sliding around her waist.
"What about you? What will your parents think about you sneaking out to be with me?" he said as he dropped a kiss on her neck just below her ear.
"They won't notice I'm gone. How could they when they are seated not ten feet from the King?" she huffed and rolled her eyes. "If I didn't look so much like my mother, I'd swear I was a foundling."
"Instead you just fell in love with one."
"I did. But…" she hesitated, lowering her eyes, her lashes sweeping against her cheeks.
"But?" Rayden inquired.
"You're different. I see the hardship in your eyes." She caressed his face as all the mirth drained out of him, her fingers tracing over the faded scar that ran down his face. "Something has burdened you and I wish I could help ease your pain." He reached up and took her hand in his.
"It's nothing. Just…I saw a lot of horrible things out there. Misery. Suffering. It's not something you forget easily." He looked into her eyes and smiled. "But fear not, I shall be back to myself before long." He leaned into her upturned face, brushing his lips against hers. Just before he opened his mouth to take her more deeply to him, the temple doors banged open. They both sighed, their breath mingling between them and he backed away. She slid toward the people streaming out of the doors and he snatched up her hand one last time and placed a kiss in her palm before she disappeared from view.
Rayden had been five years old when he first laid eyes on Eislyn Krol. His father had been paid for special items and ingredients that only a witcher could safely acquire and young Rayden had tripped over the uneven cobbles in the road as he helped carry hides into town and lay spread eagle at the feet of a four-year-old angel. She peered at him with large crystal blue eyes and he lost his heart. She giggled. Eskel came back to pull him to his feet and her father grabbed her arm and pulled her away talking about filthy mutants and useless foundlings. He watched her dark curls bounce and she looked back over her shoulder to smile at him.
He saw her a handful of times over the next eight years and every time she looked more and more beautiful and became more and more out of reach. Her family was one of great consequence in Kovir. As the highest-ranking nobility in the kingdom save the King himself, her parents looked down others as lesser and mutants and foundlings even more so. They sought only the attention that would add to their prestige. At thirteen he saw her alone in the market square…"
"Hi." The beautiful girl turned to face him. At first, she frowned but quickly changed to a wide grin when she saw who was speaking to her.
"Hello. I know you."
"Uh, yeah. Kinda. My name is Rayden."
"I'm Eislyn," she stuck out her hand. Rayden carefully took it and she shook firmly. "I'm visiting our cook. She has been ill, and I'd thought to take her some flowers. Mother is going to be mad that I cut them from her garden but what good are flowers if they stay in the ground? Want to come with me?" He had followed her that day and every day that afforded the opportunity. When her parents got wind of them spending time together, she was no longer allowed out alone. A guard followed her everywhere, keeping Rayden from her.
At fifteen, the young lady learned to scale walls. She donned pants and a dark cloak and escaped her ancestral home via the back wall off the balcony of her room. She and Rayden would wander the woods or roam the empty streets of the city late at night. When Rayden was seventeen, he ventured to kiss her beneath the tree outside the mage's tower and he had never been the same. One night a year ago, before he began his training, they met under cover of darkness, and he could sense that something wasn't right with her…
"My father is suspicious of us. Well, not us exactly but he knows I've been up to something. I can't risk getting you in trouble." She broke into tears and he pulled her into his embrace.
"Eislyn…" she pushed back from him and pressed something into his hand.
"I have to go. We can't meet for a while."
"I have to see you."
"We can't risk it. I couldn't bear if anything happened to you." She reached up on tip toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and began to climb back up the rope. Once she was secure in her bedroom, Rayden looked down to his hand. It was a small box. In it was a lock of her hair soaked in her perfume. An expensive perfume from Novigrad.
Rayden gave a gentle pat to his chest pocket where he had concealed the lock. They had managed to meet just before he and his family had left for Toussaint and today was the first he had seen her since his return. He watched his beauty dance with the other women as the men looked on. The mood outside his own head was celebratory and he too celebrated that his sister was safely married to a good man who would love and protect her. But inside, he was mourning for something he would never have. Her.