The Witcher 2.5: Between the Storms

Chapter 5: Triss – 5

Author's Note: To all my fellow Americans, I wish you a happy Independence Day. May we never take our freedoms for granted. And may we never forget all of those who fought to secure and protect them.

oOo

Howling winds whipped off the choppy harbor and over the waist-high snow drifts that lined the streets of Novigrad, causing flurries of ice to swirl through the air and sting any exposed skin in their path. The sorceress from Maribor simply lowered her head and leaned into the gust.

'Forward, Triss. Just keep moving forward,' she told herself as she thrust her gloved hands deeper into the pockets of her thick coat. 'That's all you can do.'

As had been her custom for the past few months, she was bundled up head to toe in heavy, leather boots and a forest-green parka that went past her knees. With a woolen scarf wrapped multiple times around her neck and the fur-lined hood of her coat covering her head, only her eyes were visible to the passers-by. She'd even gone so far as to protect her face with a simple, warming charm. However, despite the magical spell and all of the outerwear, she still felt a deep ache down in her core. An ache that had nothing to do with the frigid weather.

The older folks were saying that they were in the middle of the worst winter in the history of the Northern realms, and while Triss couldn't vouch for the veracity of that claim, she'd freely admit that it had certainly been the harshest of her lifetime. Two weeks after the battle at the Valley of Elah, the Nilfgaardian troops had arrived at Vizima – one army from the south and another from the west – just as her uncle Selwyn had foretold. With them had come the mother of all storms, dumping over two feet of snow onto Temeria. A short while later, the 'blizzard of the century' slammed the kingdom for weeks. Only now, with spring just around the corner, did it appear that the North was past the last of the snow storms. Things were finally looking up.

'Well, with the weather, at least,' she thought with a heavy heart.

That afternoon, the Black Ones had finally taken Vizima. Several nights past, one of their special commando units had crossed the frozen lake under the cover of darkness, infiltrated the city through its expansive sewer system, and fought its way towards one of the main gates. Once they'd secured and opened the gate, the Nilfgaardian armies had flooded into the capital. The Temerians had battled valiantly, but they were simply outmanned. The golden sun now flew above the royal palace.

Triss had initially refused to leave the city, but both Thaler and Shani had begged her to flee.

"Quit being so damned stubborn," Thaler growled. "The Black Ones have put a bloody bounty on your head."

"Tell me something new. When was the last time my face wasn't plastered on wanted posters?"

The three of them were in the back room of Thaler's fencing operation, where Shani was quickly stuffing Triss' belongings into her satchel.

"What about you?" she continued. "You were head of Temerian Intelligence. They'll want you, too, but you're not leaving."

"I'm a ploughing spy," he answered. "Living in hostile environs is like a warm, cozy blanket for me. I'll be like a pig in slop."

Triss clenched her jaws.

"So, it's fine for you to remain here, but you want me to flee – like a coward – while my countrymen are dying? Never."

"Wake up, girlie! With Vizima fallen, the bloody war is over. So, no more of our men will be dying. Least not here in the capital, but you will if you stay."

The two of them glared at each for a moment before he turned to Shani.

"See if you can get through that thick skull," he said, shaking his head and walking to the other side of the room. "It's like trying to talk to a damn mule."

Shani stepped close and handed Triss her satchel. She gave a small nod.

"I think he's right. We may still have a few pieces on the board, but today was check-mate."

"You're staying."

"I'm a simple, Redanian medic, with no real ties to Temeria. They'll welcome my skills. But you? You're Triss Merigold from Maribor. The Fourteenth of Sodden Hill. Do you really think that they're just going to forget what you did at the Valley of Elah? You need to flee. I'd hate to see you strung up. Or worse."

Triss didn't say anything. She just looked away, shaking her head. Six months ago, she'd started anew, swearing at her father's gravesite that, from that point forward, she'd uphold the House Merigold motto of 'selfless service.' She'd promised him that she'd live up to the family name. Would fleeing now bring dishonor?

'Papa, what would you do?' she thought to herself. It was a question that she seemingly asked herself every day. But no answer immediately came to mind.

Tears of frustration started to well up in her eyes. Shani reached over and gently grabbed Triss' hand.

"Hey, you're not betraying Temeria by leaving."

Triss swallowed hard and brought her eyes back to Shani's.

"Then why do I feel like I am?"

"Because you're a patriot," said Thaler as he moved next to her. His voice had lost its edge. "But needlessly dying serves no true purpose, Triss. There's a fine line between bravery and reckless stupidity, and if you stay now, I think you'll be crossing it."

Shani nodded.

"You can selflessly serve a whole lot better living than you can dead, right?"

Triss didn't immediately answer, but after a few moments of considering their words, she finally nodded.

"So, live," said Shani. "So that you can do some more good in this world."

"I would but…" She couldn't finish the sentence. She was afraid she might start sobbing if she actually gave voice to what she was feeling. For the truth was that she had nowhere to go. Every place that she'd ever considered home was now under Nilfgaardian control. Maribor, Aretuza, Vizima. But, in reality, it wasn't the locations themselves that she longed for. It was the people and the sense of belonging that she associated with those places – her father, her 'sisters' in magic, her fellow Temerians…Geralt.

"But what?" asked Shani.

"Every person in this world that I've ever been able to rely on is either dead, in this room, or…" The witcher again came to mind. "…or I don't know where they are. So, you're telling me I should flee, but I don't even know where to go."

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

Triss was suddenly brought out her memories when a burly pedestrian slammed into her. The collision had jarred her, and she'd almost fallen to the cobblestones. She reached up to rub her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, but the stranger just glared at her.

"This city's become so damned crowded, you can't even walk the bloody streets anymore," he grumbled before stomping away.

Triss couldn't disagree. The streets were packed with people. In the past half-hour, she'd seen numerous crowds, many of them clustered around braziers in alleyways and next to doorsteps. They were clearly refugees who, like her, had fled north in order to escape the Nilfgaardian invasion. She wondered if they'd found some kind of shelter in the city so that they wouldn't have to sleep out in the frigid elements.

"You've got your own worries at the moment," she said under her breath.

The sun was setting, the temperature was dropping, and Triss still had no idea where she was going to stay the night, for she didn't know a single soul living in Novigrad. Fortunately, both Shani and Thaler had given her the names of a couple of contacts. She also knew that a friend of Zoltan had a business somewhere in the city. Or, at least, that's what the dwarf had told her back in Flotsam, but that had been almost six months ago. She knew, first hand, just how much life could change in even that short amount of time. Earlier, she'd stopped at the first tavern she'd seen in order to make some inquiries and had been relieved to discover that Zoltan's friend did indeed still have a business near Hierarch Square. She rubbed her shoulder once more, repeated the directions in her mind, and then continued on her journey, this time taking more care to keep her eyes up and watching where she was going.

She passed over a short bridge and glanced over the railing, noticing that the canal below was iced over along its edges. She imagined what it would feel like if she fell in, and a shiver ran up her spine. She quickly made her way through the fish market and then took a right at the next intersection. She immediately noticed the crowd up ahead.

'That's got to be Hierarch Square. Good. I'm getting close.'

She stopped for a moment, and through her parka, pressed her hand against the satchel on her hip. Thaler had advised her to keep it underneath her coat.

"Take bloody care. Because Novigrad's got more ploughing pickpockets and cut-purses than a coon-hound's got fleas," he'd warned.

She cautiously approached the mass of humanity, and as she began to weave her way through the other pedestrians, she kept her head on a swivel. The brick and stone buildings lining the square were all three to four stories tall and housed a variety of businesses – banks, boutiques, art galleries, bookstores, taverns, armorers, a playhouse, and more. The tallest of the buildings looked like some type of municipal hall. Several flags flew from its high, belltower. On one corner of the square was a tall obelisk with a large, flickering flame at its top, and there were numerous carts and stalls located in the square itself. Even though it was now dusk, there were countless hawkers out still trying to make a sale.

"To me! To me! Everyone to me!"

"Why wait for tomorrow, when you can buy today!?"

"Best deals all around! One for the price of two!"

Triss smiled at that last proclamation. The merchant had either misspoken or he was one of the few honest salesmen left in the North.

Despite the fact that the sun had already set, she had no trouble seeing for there were lamps and fires burning in large, metal braziers all along the edges of the square. Truth be told, to Triss' eyes, it seemed as if the entire city was aflame. Rumor was that, in addition to the massive temple that occupied a vast portion of Temple Isle, there were close to twenty, smaller shrines to the Eternal Fire interspersed throughout the city. That thought brought a sense of dread to her stomach, for she was well aware of the Church's official stance on all things magical and non-human.

'Maybe I should've gone to Kear Morhen, after all.'

But she shook her head at that. She knew that Vesemir would welcome her with open arms, but she wasn't sure that the old witcher was even there. Plus, how could she help others if she was hiding out in a run-down fortress in the middle of nowhere? No, Novigrad had been the right choice, at least for the time being.

'You'll just need to be careful. Don't draw their ire.'

The sorceress passed the Kingfisher Inn and eventually exited the other side of the square. There was an upward gradient to the cobblestone street as it headed north towards St. Gregory's Bridge, and she immediately slowed her pace because she'd been told that the business in question was in the Gildorf district, somewhere along this particular street. Halfway up the slope, she stopped and smiled behind her scarf, for she'd finally found it. A sign hung over a sturdy looking, metal door. On the sign, a colorful parrot had been painted with a variety of jewelry pieces dangling from its beak, wings, and talons. Above the parrot's head were the words, 'Schuttenbach's Jewelry.'

Triss tried the door, but it was locked so she stepped over to a couple of tall, thin windows protected by iron bars. But there were no glass panes in the windows. They'd been boarded up from the inside.

She took a step backward and looked up at the three-story building. Above the stone first floor were two more stories made of wood with large windows. She saw dim lights flickering behind them.

'Maybe he lives above.'

She went back to the front door, removed the glove on her right hand and knocked on the door as hard as possible. She couldn't be sure, but she thought that she heard the muffled squawk of a bird coming from somewhere above. So, she pounded on the door again. A moment later, she heard a creaking sound as the window on the second floor opened up.

"We're closed!" said a squeaky voice. "Come back tomorrow, when it's light!"

She stepped back a few paces to see who was talking, but before she could even respond, the window was quickly shut. She immediately went back to the front door and began pounding some more. She stopped when she heard the window open again.

"I've got a full bed-pan up here, and I'm not afraid to use it!"

"Wait!" yelled Triss. "I need to see you."

"Well, I don't need to see you. Good-bye."

She saw a small hand reach up to pull the window shut again.

"I'm a friend of Zoltan!" she shouted in desperation. "Zoltan Chivay!"

She instantly heard a parrot start squawking, spewing out a list of expletives that would make Thaler blush.

"Shut your trap, Windbag!" ordered the squeaky voice.

Triss then noticed a small head peak over the window sill. The face was backlit so she couldn't see any details other than the fact that it possessed two large ears that stuck out from its head.

"Zoltan Chivay, you say?"

"Yes. He told me that if I was ever in Novigrad that I should definitely look you up." She hesitated for only a second before adding, "He told me that, if you needed assurance, then I should say, 'Koglan's Bluff.'"

The squeaky voice was quiet for a long pause.

"Did he now? Koglan's Bluff, you say?"

"Yes. He wouldn't tell me what it meant, but he said you'd know."

"I do. Hold tight. I'll be down shortly."

A minute later, Triss heard several bolts being turned, and then the door opened to reveal a gnome who barely came up to her waist. He carried a lamp in his hand and a multi-colored parrot on his shoulder. He sported a tuft of gray hair on both his head and on his chin, and his bushy eyebrows looked like caterpillars over his wizened eyes. He possessed large, pointy ears and, like most members of his species, a long, narrow nose.

Triss gave a curtsy and said, "Well met, Master Schuttenbach. My name is Triss Merigold. May I have the honor of entering your abode?"

She saw his eyes suddenly widen.

"Triss Merigold, you say?"

Before she could answer, he immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, quickly slamming and locking the door behind him. The parrot cursed and flapped its wings.

"Yes, yes! Of course, you may enter. And please forgive me for my less-than-courteous behavior earlier, Lady Triss," he said with a short bow. "I've had a bit a trouble lately. But that's neither here nor there. Zoltan has mentioned you two were friends. Not that I wouldn't have known your name regardless. Your legend precedes you. Please, follow me."

As Percival led Triss toward the back of his shop, she glanced around but couldn't see much in the darkness. She could make out several glass counters to her right and was surprised to see that they were completely empty. There was no jewelry in sight.

The gnome hastened across the floor, talking the entire time – his mouth moving as fast as his feet.

"I can't believe it. The Triss Merigold at my door. And completely unexpected. I wish I'd known so that I could have prepared. And what is she doing here exactly? At this time of day…"

His jabbering continued as they walked, and Triss gave a quizzical smile. It sounded as if Percival was talking to his bird rather than to her.

The bottom floor of the building was split into front and back rooms. They left the front, display room, went through another metal door – which the gnome locked behind them - and entered into what was obviously the jeweler's work shop. There was a small forge and several workstations, housing all manner of tools. Triss knew from her discussions with Zoltan that Schuttenbach was a master metallurgist and jeweler. At the back of the workshop was a narrow stairwell, and he quickly hopped up each step.

"And here is my humble abode," he said has he led her into a very warm and cozy sitting room. There were several rugs on the floor, and in front of a fireplace on the far wall were two comfortable looking chairs with a coffee table in between.

"Perch," he commanded, and the parrot immediately flew from his shoulder and landed on a perch near the fireplace. He then turned to Triss.

"Welcome. Now, please make yourself comfortable. My home is yours. I'll be back shortly with some tea."

He turned and scurried through a door. A moment later, Triss heard dishes rattling. She smiled at the little gnome's non-stop energy. He reminded her of the water bugs that she used to see during the summers back at the Maribor palace. The insects would hop and skitter along the top of the pond so quickly that the fish could rarely catch them.

She removed her parka, scarf and gloves, placing them on the back of one of the chairs, before glancing around. There were several nice oil paintings on the wall, and to the right of the fireplace was a bookshelf filled with old-looking tomes. On the far side of the room was a square table with four chairs, but there were no place settings on the table. Instead, it was covered in an assortment of tools and pieces of jewelry. He clearly didn't do all of his work down in his shop.

At that point, the parrot squawked, getting her attention. She stepped up close to it.

"Is this Zoltan's old parrot?" she asked in a loud voice. While regaling her with tales of his many adventures, Zoltan had often mentioned the bird. "Field Marshal Windbag?"

Upon hearing his name, the bird let out another string of expletives.

"Yes," Percival called out from the kitchen. "That's where he picked up his colorful language."

"Well, he's a pretty bird, even if he talks like a dwarf." She then peered into the parrot's dark eyes. "Yes, you are. You're a pretty bird."

"Pretty bird. Pretty bird," it mimicked back.

"Oh, don't tell him that," said Percival coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray containing two steaming cups of tea and several snacks. "The brat is already puffed up enough. Proud as a peacock, he is. Thinks that the success of the shop is all due to him."

"Brilliant diamonds! Brilliant diamonds!" it squawked and flapped its wings.

"See what I mean?"

Percival stopped next to them.

"Here, take this cracker and feed him. You'll be his friend for life."

Triss did as she was told and the parrot quickly snatched the morsel from her fingertips. He squawked again and bobbed his head up and down several times.

"Come, come. Let's sit by the fire."

The gnome placed the tray on the coffee table before using a short step-stool to hop into one of the chairs. Triss took the other.

"I hope you like malomile. It's all I've got. I wasn't expecting guests."

Triss knew it was the tea typically consumed by gnomes, and she'd had it before.

"Oh, yes," she lied. She took a sip and kept her face neutral despite the bitter taste. "Perfect. Thank you." At least it was hot, which warmed up her insides.

Percival smiled, revealing his sharp incisors.

"No need to lie. I know it's an acquired taste. I have wine instead if you prefer. Or vodka."

"No, no. This is fine." There was no way she was going to complain about his hospitality. She hoped her father had taught her better manners than that.

"Suit yourself. So, tell me, when was the last time you saw Zoltan?"

"About six months ago. In Flotsam."

"Flotsam, you say? What was he in doing in that backwater town?"

"About to be hanged from a noose. Him and Dandelion both."

Percival cackled upon hearing that. "Hanged, you say? Why am I not surprised? The scoundrels. Please, tell me the story."

"It's a long tale. How much do you want to hear?"

"However much you're willing to share."

Triss looked intently at Percival, trying to decide where to start the story. Despite their rocky beginning out on the street, she'd quickly warmed to him. She saw him staring back at her with a smile of anticipation on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, and the truth is that she wanted to be able to trust him, to tell him everything. For she'd never been a cynical loner. Unlike Geralt, she could never be content walking a path of solitude. She just wasn't built that way. She enjoyed too much the company of others. Plus, Zoltan had vouched for him, and any friend of Zoltan had to be of good character, right? Okay, well, maybe not Dandelion but everyone else. She gave a short nod, making up her mind.

"Well, I guess I need to start at La Valette castle."

For the next hour plus, the sorceress recounted her life for the past year, with the gnome either gasping or interjecting comments and questions here and there. She ended her tale with the fall of Vizima that afternoon and her decision to flee. Upon hearing that, Percival cursed, which caused Field Marshal Windbag to chime in.

"Oh dear. Deary dear. This is not good." He hopped off his chair and began pacing in front of the fireplace. "So, this is why you came to Novigrad?"

She nodded.

"I knew I needed to get north of the Pontar."

"Yes. You and everyone else between here and the Yaruga. This is not good. Not good at all. You do realize that you've jumped from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire. In your case, almost literally."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean that Novigrad is a powder keg right now. Even in the best of times, there's always been an incredibly delicate balance of power in this city amongst three very dangerous groups – the Church of the Eternal Fire, the Novigrad city council, and the criminal underworld. But ever since Nilfgaard invaded Temeria, life here has taken a turn for the worse – especially for non-humans."

"How so? The Black Ones are still hundreds of miles away."

Percival stopped pacing and climbed back into his chair.

"Maybe Nilfgaard isn't here yet, but thousands of Temerian refugees already are. And, now, even more are sure to come, especially once the spring arrives and the Black Ones continue their push north. And this influx of mouths and stomachs is starting to cause severe shortages. I know that Novigrad is one of the richest cities in the Northern kingdoms, but even its resources have a limit, and right now, they've reached the breaking point. Every inn and tavern are at capacity. Food is starting to get scarce. Firewood and coal are hard to find, especially with the winter we've just had. And because resources are becoming scarce, that means crime is up. If people can't buy what they need, then they'll simply steal it.

"Sure, the rich aren't being affected. At least not yet. They still feel safe and secure behind their high walls and locked gates, but the common folk are suffering. They're hungry and on edge. Have you never heard the saying, 'Good fences make good neighbors'? It's because you humans are prickly and need your space. But there's no space left in the city. Everyone's rubbing elbows and knocking heads. There's friction everywhere. And where there's friction, a spark will inevitably follow. And then the powder keg will blow."

"I did notice how packed the streets were."

"Yes, like I've never seen. Times are tough right now, and people are starting to fear for their futures. And what do you humans do when that happens? You find someone to blame. And since the Nilfgaardians aren't here to take the blame yet, then they have to find someone else. And with the Church stoking everyone's fears, all outsiders have become the scape goat. There have been beatings in the streets. Businesses vandalized. I rarely leave my home anymore, and even then, only in daylight."

"That's why your windows downstairs are boarded up."

"Aye. They've been smashed with rocks or bricks twice now, and that's not counting the graffiti they've painted on the front walls. I think the only reason my windows up here haven't been broken yet is because the hooligans don't realize this is my home. They probably think that, since I'm a gnome, I must live in the sewers. The scoundrels haven't run me off yet, but I'm starting to strongly consider the idea."

"Isn't there anyone you can complain to? The city guards or the city council?"

"I have. They either no longer care or simply no longer have the power or ability to do anything about it. I hear of new persecutions every day, and there simply isn't enough city watchmen to stop them all."

"And it's happening against just non-humans?"

"For the most part. But recently, magic-users have started being targeted as well. The more zealous lunatics of the Church of the Eternal Fire have become more emboldened and are taking advantage of the turmoil in the city. As I said earlier, the balance of power has been recently skewed, with both the Church and the four major crime bosses taking more control. And there's one man in particular – Caleb Menge – who's the worst whoreson of the bunch."

"Who's he?"

"Someone you do not want to cross paths with. Believe you me. He's a commander of the Temple's special witch-hunting unit. His boss is technically Chappelle, the head of the Temple guards, but I've heard that Menge no longer really answers to him. That the hierarch, himself, has given Menge carte blanche to rid the city of anyone that the Church deems an 'abomination.' I've heard that Menge has already jailed some magic users, and there are rumors that soon there will be burnings in Hierarch Square."

"Witch burnings?"

Triss couldn't believe it. She knew that the Church's awful history was replete with such vile acts. There had always been conflict between the adherents to the Eternal Fire and those who could wield the mysterious and chaotic Power found in nature, but she thought that outright, violent persecution was a thing of the past.

"Aye. As I said, you've leapt from the frying pan and into the fire."

Triss fell silent, not really even knowing what to say. And, then despite the anxiety she was now feeling, she let out a long yawn.

"I'm sorry. It's not your company. I'm just exhausted. I can't remember the last time that I slept."

She and Shani had been working around the clock at St. Lebioda's hospital during the siege of Vizima.

"Of course, of course. No offense taken. You've clearly had a very stressful day. Let me show you where you can bed down."

"No, I can't impose on you like that. I'll find-"

"Nonsense!" he said, cutting her off. "I told you already. There are no available rooms to be found in the city. Besides, any friend of Zoltan is a friend of mine. So, I won't hear another word about it, my dear."

Triss felt a tremendous sense of relief wash over her. She looked intently into his eyes and smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Master Schuttenbach. I truly appreciate your kindness."

"Of course," he said hopping down from his chair. "But no more of this 'Master Schuttenbach' business. My friends call me Percival, and you are now my friend."

"Then, thank you, Percival. And I insist you call me Triss."

"Triss, Triss," squawked Field Marshal Windbag, causing them both to smile.

"Very well, Triss. Please follow me."

The gnome moved over to the bookshelf, leaned down and partially pulled a small tome from the bottom shelf. Triss heard a clicking noise, and then Percival swung the bookshelf away from the wall, which caused a panel in the wall to slide to one side, revealing a staircase.

"I own many priceless pieces of jewelry," he explained. "So, after I moved in, I had a carpenter come in all the way from Roggeveen and hide the passage to my top floor. It's mostly used for storage, but I've got a narrow bed up there as well. It should be big enough for you."

Triss followed him up the stairs, and once on the third floor, he used the candle in his hand to light a lamp that was on small desk to one side of the room. She glanced around to see several wooden boxes stacked against a wall. There was also a bed, a dresser, and a small desk and chair. Two large windows faced west and gave her a magnificent view of the Novigrad harbor.

"Here you go, my dear. I hope you'll be comfortable. As I said, please make yourself at home."

"Thank you again, Percival," she said before kneeling down and taking his hand. "I don't know exactly what 'Koglan's Bluff' means. Zoltan said that it wasn't his story to tell. But if that's what caused you to show me such hospitality, then I'm grateful for it."

"Yes, well, it did confirm that you were actual friends with Zoltan, which did put my mind at ease. I'm sure you must be exhausted right now. Are you sure you want to hear about it?'

"Of course."

"Well, how about I simply give you the abridged version for now. Koglan's Bluff is the name of a mining town in the Mahakam Mountains where, in my youth, through some poor decisions, I ran into a spot of trouble, and it's where Zoltan risked his own life to save mine. I've always felt that I owed him for his act of bravery and sacrifice, but you know Zoltan. He states that friends don't keep such accounts with each other. But when you mentioned that he'd told you the name, I felt as if it was his way of saying, 'Percival, if you still feel as if you owe me one, then you can pay it off by helping this lovely woman.'" With that, he gently patted Triss' hand. "Now, I'll draw the curtains and let you rest."

In no time, Triss was under the covers, but despite her exhaustion, sleep didn't immediately come. She kept remembering Percival's words from earlier, 'You've jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.' A small voice in her head told that she should leave the city tomorrow and continue heading north until she could finally find a place of peace. But she quickly shook her head at that thought.

'You've done enough running.'

She still had serious doubts that fleeing Vizima earlier in the day had been the right decision. In fact, the truth was that she couldn't shake the feeling that she had abandoned her friends and fellow Temerians in their greatest time of need. She knew that Thaler and Shani didn't see it that way, and a part of her agreed with them, but what she knew in her head didn't always reach her heart. And this was one of those times.

Thaler had told her that the battle for the capital was over. That there was nothing else that she could do at that point. And maybe he was right, but the fight in Novigrad – the one against non-humans – was far from over. In fact, it seemed as if it was just heating up.

She asked herself once again, "Papa, what would you do?"

And almost instantly the answer came.

'Stay and fight the good fight. Stay for Percival.'

It hadn't been an audible voice but, rather, a deep conviction down in her soul. Triss had no idea what that 'good fight' might look like or what exactly she could do, but she knew it was the right answer. For, even though she'd only known him for a couple of hours, she already considered the old gnome to be a friend. And she'd be damned if she left another friend in the lurch. With the matter resolved, she nodded her head, let out another long yawn, and then instantly fell asleep.

oOo

Author's Note: For those of you who think Triss' decision to flee Temeria was 'out of character' for her at this point in the story, I understand your point of view because, based on how her character arc had progressed in the previous four chapters, when I put myself into her head after the invasion of Vizima, I began to have some serious doubts that she would actually leave the city, much less the entire kingdom. I think that she would have had no reservations in staying and continuing to aid her countrymen in any way possible. I think she was even willing to die for her country. However, I didn't want to turn this tale into an alternate-universe story. Which meant that if I was going to maintain continuity with TW3, then she had to go to Novigrad. My hope is that her discussion with Thaler and Shani on why she should leave was believable and that her ultimate decision to flee Temeria wasn't completely inconsistent with her current character development. But if you disagree, I totally understand because I'm not fully convinced that she would have left either.