Author's note: So this was just an idea that I had that was sitting on the shelf for a couple of months and needed some polishing off. If all goes according to plan, I will have one more story out by the end of the month, depending on how the writer's block goes. So sit down, and saddle up.

XxXxX

Foreword:

It came from the sky and landed on Undvik. During the second conjunction of the spheres. A bizarre crystal with bizarre properties, able to suck up metals and minerals from the ground and contaminating the area around it, such that only those with magic could go near it. An energy radiated from it. Radiation, they decided to call it. And the name of the crystal itself was christened, Tiberium.

XxXxX

Sigismund Djikstra

Gods, it can be such a headache sometimes to run this country. Djikstra thought to himself.

"No you daft twerp, I asked for the reports about Nilfgaard's latest presence on the border, not for more reports of the god forsaken crystal on Undvik! Now get your goddamned bloody ass in motion and get them for me, before I order my bodyguard to break both of your legs!"

"Right away sire!" The carrier chuckled nervously as he was sent on his way.

Gods, what's become of this world as of late. First that bloody crystal appears, now my messengers can't even find me proper reports of Nilfgaard's strength on the border. Sigismund Djikstra thought to himself.

Even though the war had resolved itself in the North's favor, Nilfgaard was still a threat. In no small terms. The former kingdoms of Lyria and Rivia and Cintra and Temeria may have all been seized, but as it stood, Djikstra made no progress into the lands of Nilfgaard proper before coming to the tables for peace. The North simply did not have the manpower necessary to invade all the sovereign realms of Nilfgaard. And so what remained was the new status quo, except the North now all united under one ruler, except for Kovir.

Sigismund Djikstra had much work ahead of him to properly build up the institutions of state necessary to resist any future incursions by Nilfgaard. First on his list, was to destroy the Church of the Eternal Fire's bloody influence over the state. Too many pogroms had happened, and if the North was to be secure during another attack, it would need all its herbalists and mages. And strong trade routes. With the fleet from the formerly 'free city of' Novigrad now finally under his control, all the ships in the harbor were now his to commandeer at any point in time, alongside the massive gold reserves of the city. All things which boded well for trading with Zerrikania. No statesman could be happier.

And yet he kept receiving concerning summons from the new king Svanrige on Skellige of a new and potentially deadly new magical crystal. I'll not be bothered by this, leave it to the Skelligers to get up in a fit over some small thing. Djikstra thought to himself, and yet, the more he tried to force his thinking to accrue to the orthodoxy in his head, he just could not shake the notion that something was going to go wrong. I wonder, what would Geralt do in this situation? Probably bitch and moan about his precious supposed neutrality.

XxXxX

Geralt

"How do you like that silver?" Geralt said as he thrust his sword fatally through the abdominal section of a Nekker. Can't believe I'm still doing this at this stage of my life. Geralt thought. All he really wanted to do was to be back with Yennefer again in Kaer Morhen, but sometimes being on the path was needed to break up the monotony of bliss that came with spending time with Yen. At least I'm not losing my edge in my old age. Geralt thought. He prepared the bomb to destroy the nekker nest and set the fuse, Knelt down and placed it, then relocated himself a safe distance away. Bang! Went the bomb, and now the nest was cleared for good. He rolled his arms lightly, as if to suggest that it was a good warmup.

Now, to find his way back to the village. He took a look around, taking in the gnarled tree trunks, the various ferns that casted long shadows, and the twisted visage of the low sun in the sky. It would be a long day before he cleared himself out of the swampy area of lower Cintra and made it back to get paid. It is said by many uneducated peasants that witcher's were like grim reapers, they always collected their due, whether it be coin or the law of surprise. Destiny was truly a fickle mistress. But Geralt had had enough surprises in his time, no more did he collect the law of surprise anymore, just coin and nothing else. For the last time He had collected a child of surprise, it led him on a journey like none other in his life.

At least it's somewhere warm this time. Geralt thought as he prepared himself to take out his sleeping bag that he had saddled on did the customary check for bedbugs before laying it down and opening it up. He stepped in and like a gaping maw the bag enveloped him. Geralt had been on the path for a long enough time that he took any chance he could to rest. It was crucial to maintaining his sharpness. And a lack of sharpness could always be the end of the path for Geralt.

He was now fully prepared to go to bed. The only thing that stopped Geralt was the sun having yet to set. Since he had this time available to him, he opened up one more sac on Roach and got out his journal, it was a habit he had established in the waning days of the war between Nilfgaard and Redania.

"Dear Journal; It's been a tough few days. The first Month down here in Cintra was dry as a bone, but now that I've entered the swampy areas, the contracts could not be more plentiful. A Nekker contract here, a Chorta contract there, and soon enough the gold flowed in. What was it Vesemir used to say? 'A witcher must never rest on his laurels.' Well, when I'm done here and I'm back with you Yennefer, that's exactly what I'll be doing."

He closed his journal and looked up to the skies. It was a cool night, already the dew was beginning to form on the various grasses that made up this particular dry spot in the middle of the swamp. He was about to close his eyes when he spotted a meteor shower. He eyed it lazily for a few moments. And it kept getting brighter. And closer. Suddenly it was so bright that it seemed to light up the sky. And it just kept building from there.

"Back Roach!" Geralt yelled as he sat up, now thoroughly aware of the danger. Thankfully for both him and Roach, the meteor landed in the swampy area nearby. A soft stream of steam etched across the sky showed where the red hot rock had landed. And on top of that, Geralt thought he could see a distant glow.

"Hmph, looks like we won't be getting any rest for now, damnit." Geralt said.

Geralt knew deep down inside of him that going to check out a glowing meteor was simply a bad idea, but nonetheless, he was drawn to it like a moth invading a light. There was something about the luminescent green light that seemed to swamp the area that drew him in. What kind of natural phenomena was it? Geralt was curious now. He had to know what this thing was and if it posed any sort of threat to the people in this area. I should be asking for more coin for this. Geralt thought grumpily as he made his way closer.

As the distance between himself and the celestial object closed, he could see the trees in the swamp peel away from the very meteor, wracked and twisted by the kinetic force and heat of the object. And on top of that, the closer he got, the more the object glowed, until he could see a green crystal festooned with various pieces of the rocky meteor's outer layer. Cautiously, Geralt fingered his Witcher's amulet, looking for any sign of magic in the crystal, but he detected none. How could a crystal glow like this but not have any magical properties? Geralt thought as he slowly examined it. Then, he put his finger on it, receiving a minor cut in the process, no deeper than the subcutaneous layer of fat underneath his skin.

"Ow, shit!" Geralt swore to himself.

As a general rule of thumb, witcher's didn't have strong emotions due to their mutations, it helped them fight in the most fearless of ways possible. But sometimes that proved to be a double edged sword, for Geralt should have been afraid of the crystal. It was like pain, without pain, one might risk burning oneself.

Geralt, now satisfied in his examinations of the crystal, deemed it no threat to the people or the local populace. At least not from any magical perspective.

Well, at least my sleeping bag isn't too far away now. He moved towards it, determined to get some shut eye after that latest disruption to his sleep. He opened up his satchel before stepping into bed and withdrew Swallow. He then took a few swigs for the surface level wounds he had received fighting the nekkers and for the papercut-deep wound that he had from the crystal. With that accomplished, he slithered into bed and closed his eyes as dreams about Ciri and Yennefer swept him from his current reality.

XxXxX

Geralt

8 Hours Later

When Geralt awoke, he was pleased to find that the scratch that the crystal left on him the other day was completely healed, alongside all the other flesh wounds that had been accrued fighting the Nekkers. Slowly, he rose out of his sleeping bag, stretching his arms as he did so.

"Long day yesterday Roach, long day. Today is going to be even longer."

Geralt pet Roach as he started loading him up with his sleeping bag.

"I guess today isn't going to be your lucky day is it? I want to make it back to the town by nightfall, so we are going to have to ride well."

Geralt saddled up as he felt his finger where the cut happened last night. Suddenly, he was torn by a sharp, stabbing pain right where the skin deep cut formerly was.

"Fucking ow." Geralt complained as he opened up his saddle to have just another miniscule bit of swallow.

"There, that ought to do it."

At this point, he just wanted to get paid and move onto the next job. Ideally before the necker head attached to his saddle would begin to stink.

"C'mon Roach, let's get out of here."

And so the pair of them were off to their next misadventure.

XxXxX

Geralt

12 Hours Later

"What do you mean you can't pay?" Geralt angrily demanded of the Alderman.

"I means sir, that wes good folks can't pay. Youse welcome to take a law of surprise, wes can't stop youse."

"Not good enough, I need Redanian Crowns or Cintran Ducats. You know it's a bad idea to steal payment from a witcher."

The Alderman gulped nervously as his fingers in his left hand wrapped and tapped the wrist of the right.

"Please sir, we had an emergency. My wife was going into labor and the witch demanded all of it."

"Show me the way to this witch." Geralt said as he crossed his arms.

"Oh nos, don't tell me you mean to…"

"I do intend to, now show me the way, or get out of the way."

The alderman sat down on a bench, a dejected look crossed his expression.

"Fine, I'll have me wife show you the way. Bethany!"

A plump woman came out, her nose crooked as if it had been bashed in at one point in time by the pommel of a longsword. And that was not the least among her ugliest features. Her face was pockmarked, a common sign of those that had the pox as children. Her hair was unkempt too, ruffled and messy, similar in nature to a bird's nest.

"Yes, honey? What is it?" Came a voice as crooked as a dying tree.

"I need you to show the Witcher sir here where the witch is."

"Now, why is that my responsibility?" The old hag replied as she crunched and grinded her teeth in annoyance.

"You knows that me leg is no good, please Bethany, I beg of you!"

Bethany finally relented under the onslaught of pleas from the Alderman and gave into his incessant begging.

"Fine, but I's not be doing anything else extra for youse for the rest of the day." The witch of a woman responded. If Geralt hadn't been sure that Bethany was not the witch he was looking for, he might have mistaken her for one. After all, in common peasant folklore, witches were always ugly creatures, both on the inside and outside.

Geralt Idly wondered what profession this witch might be, maybe she was another sorceress of the circle who fled the war, who had yet to hear in these background swamps that the war had reached its bloody conclusion. Or perhaps it was more simple than that, an herbalist maybe, squeezing the peasants dry of what little coin they had for simple remedies. Whatever the case, they probably came south to avoid the purges of Radovid.

"Alright then, follow me." Bethany commanded Geralt.

"How far away is she?" Geralt inquired.

"Just up the road." Bethany replied.

They walked in silence for a short while, the twisted visages of the swamp trees passing them by. Geralt, always primed for danger, thought he could see something with his enhanced eyes move about in the shadows as they stretched and yawned all over the place. Perhaps it was nothing, but then again, dealing with a potential magic user was always something that made Geralt think cautiously. He had far too many scars and the reminders that they bore of what could happen when caution was thrown to the wind.

Eventually, one foot in front of the other, they made it to a small hut with straw decorating its roof. It was a simple construction, one not denoting anything about the importance of its inhabitants inside. Geralt, still weary of the clashing shadows that he thought he had seen before coming here, turned to the ugly woman Bethany and asked her a question.

"So, this is the place is it?"

There was a slight pause, and then a nod of confirmation.

"Yes, now I's be off. Now behave yourself with ours witch. She's precious to us, sees?"

Geralt bobbed his head up and down in his own nod of confirmation.

"I'll be sure not to be rough with her." Geralt said, even though he had just the vaguest intention to keep his promise.

"Good."

Bethany turned to go, leaving Geralt alone in his own company. With nothing else preoccupying him now, Geralt turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He raised his hand to knock on the rickety door, which shuddered as he delivered repetitive blows.

"Open up, I know you are in there." Geralt stated dryly.

There was a pause, then the sound of footsteps rushing about inside.

"I'll be there in a moment!" came a voice from inside the premises. After the crashing sounds of pottery being shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, the door slid open and the head of an attractive woman no older than 25 peeked out. Her hair was waist long and a very distinctive shade of blue, which framed her perfectly oval face. Any trace of blemish or scar on the visible portion of her body was noticeably absent as well. The woman fumbled around clutzily, as if in a trance that she could not wake from.

"Hello?" She asked. Geralt opened his mouth to respond, only for the woman to continue speaking. "Oh, I've not had a witcher come to me before. I've heard that your kind are such stallions. " Geralt once again opened his mouth to breathe out a few words in the midst of the woman's monologue, only to have the woman keep talking. "I wonder what herbs work on witcher's mutagens, I have a couple of theories." By this point, Geralt had given up trying to talk over the woman's monologue, resigned to his fate of death by a thousand words.

"Well come in, come in, have a seat by the fire!" The woman intoned as she opened her door fully, revealing a hand woven dress with patches of purple and blue. By this point, Geralt saw his opening and seized it.

"Actually, I have no intention of sitting down. I came here for one reason alone, you owe me money that you stole from the Alderman. That payment for delivering his pregnant wife's kid was supposed to be mine."

"Oh, well that might be a bit of a problem then." She opened the door more, and stepped inside her home, nearly tripping on her own feet in the process. "You see, the money that they gave me I already spent on some lovely new herbs. Some Nilfgaardian trader came by here with some rare species of herbs from Zerrikania. I just had to get some."

There was a brief pause, with the hostility of Geralt nearly throttling the air.

"Perhaps then we could find the trader and sell the herbs back to him then." Geralt said dryly.

"What, surely you jest? These herbs are necessary for treating people with the Temerian Pox. It rears its ugly head here at least twice per year."

"Fantastic." Geralt said. "Now how am I supposed to get paid?"

"Well, there is one thing that I suppose you could help with that has some coin in it. Help me and we'll split it twenty/eighty."

"Great. And what is it, go chase down a goat? I've already done my fair share of goat chasing in my illustrious career. Can't say I'm a fan."

A small smile crept onto the woman's face.

"No silly, there's the small matter of a Pesta which happens to reside nearby. This Pesta is both responsible for the constant onset of Temerian Pox in this village, as well as guarding a sizable fortune that ought to be three times the size of a mere nekker contract. Kill that Pesta and take its treasure and I'm sure you'll leave here satisfied. And I'll take a finder's tip, consider it extra for pointing you in the right direction."

Geralt paused and thought about the offer for a moment, before responding.

"And just how do you know that this Pesta is guarding this treasure, give me a reason to trust you."

"Oh, so you don't trust me, how very upsetting!" The woman said in a mock play tone. "Listen, the reason why I know is because that old Pesta always hangs around the former countryside mansion of an old and now defunct noble family. It was abandoned suddenly a few years ago, right around the time the pesta took hold there, which means that valuables are still left there, understood?"

Geralt Nodded. "I understand, and if there isn't any treasure back there, I will find you and there will be consequences."

The woman clothed in the swirling blue and purple clothes responded, as if seized by a dream.

"Don't worry darling, I'm sure there will be treasure there, if not, well, my name is Mary Poppins!"

"Mhm, sure. See you in a bit." Geralt said flatly.

Geralt then did a quick one-eighty, eager to get out of the house of horrors that was that particular herbalist's house. Geralt had always had a distinct hatred and annoyance for those who seemed to be simply put, 'out of it'. And the woman whose name he did not even know or bother to know seemed to be one of those dainty types. At least she's not as bad as the Pellar from Velen. At least, I don't think so yet. Geralt thought.

As he walked on back from the hut to the village, he noticed that the shadows seemed much calmer this time around. Less of sharp yet vague shapes clashing into each other, and more of a blasse collage. Hmmm, I wonder if that was paranormal activity now after she mentioned the Pesta, should have used the lamp that Kiera gave me. That would have given me some idea as to what's going on around here. Geralt thought.

Finally arriving in the village, Geralt saddled up on his horse roach.

"Looks like that long day isn't over yet Roach, got some work ahead of us."