- Leave him to me. – Regis was as resigned as he was desolate. – Begone. – and angry.

- I can't let … - the witcher tried, alas, …

- I insist.

Geralt stepped back, also resigned. His mind still muddled by the potions and the fight. The situation no good all around. He turned and the Teshan Mutna tower registered in his eye. The prison – a punishment.

- Regis, wait.

- What?!

- Don't kill him. – the witcher came forth and hauled the body on his back. – Open the door. To the cage.

- Geralt…

- You don't want to kill him. He doesn't need to die. What he needs is to cool off. – he moved towards where he remembered the entrance to the ruins was. – He can sit there, wait. We need to clear the city.

- Without him the lesser vampires will go to ground by dawn. – Regis's equilibrium seemed to be coming back. – And he won't be able to command them from here.

- Good. – the cage was just as they left it. Geralt sniffed the air. The lure's and the Necrophage's smell was almost gone. Good, no need to cause Dettlaff more rage. – If I cut off his head, he will be able to regenerate it? Or would it better to bring it back?

- What? Geralt, why would… - Regis startled.

- Anarietta, - Geralt put Detlaff inside the cage, and forced him to stay put. – she won't accept he's dead without proof. Not after everything. Can he get out of the cage with the head out?

- No, he won't get out. He will regenerate, after a time, but slower for it. – he paused. - Quite frankly I find your suggestion of reattaching a severed head very disturbing.

- What do I know about your regeneration, huh? – the witcher grumbled. - Steel sword? Or Silver?

- If you must, … steel, clean. – he held Detlaff down.

Shink, and Geralt held the head by the hair, a vicious snarl on it's lips, gnawing it's jaws. Regis closed the cage and moved to lift it up.

- Anyway to make it stop moving? – Geralt kept the head away from himself as it snarled.

- A paralyzing solution, for now. It will "die", in a matter of speaking, after a week or two.

- Hmm. – witcher turned and started walking to the exit. – I need to go back, help the guards fight. Get the head stiff. I will meet you at dawn at Lebioda's gate, Bring it there.

Geralt moved to Roach, pulled the sack he usually used for his trophies. He handed the grim package to his friend. Then tossed White Honey down his throat. The wound in his neck started bleeding slowly again. Another Swallow, when I get to the city he decided.

- Good luck, Geralt, and … thank you for stopping me.

- Don't mention it. And don't let anyone see you. – It will be a long night, yet.


- You wanted to talk? – Geralt rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. Somehow the formal outfits, even though supposedly fitted to measures, always pinched around his shoulders. Maybe bigger plackets next time? Or looser sleeves altogether.

- Yes. – Regis sniffed the air, checking for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice, so only a witcher would be able to register it. – There was to be a fifth victim, we never learnt who.

- Why bother? It doesn't matter now. Asked the courtier who delivered my invitation. Syanna's in the palace. Courtiers pressured the duchess to lock her in a tower.

- Do you care not a whit who else was in her black book? We've sometime before the ceremony. We could still chat with that boot-cleaning urchin. He was the one to pass the victims' name to Dettlaff… Perhaps we missed something?

Geralt's hair stood on his neck. The boot black didn't say anything of the sort when they talked to him. The witcher tilted his head to the tailor, he didn't seem interested in their conversation, but…

- Regis, the bootblack didn't say anything about making deliveries when we talked to him. How do you know he handled the letters – he hissed barely above his own hearing range. The vampire didn't seem to register the warning though.

- While you basked in glory and tried on new formal wear, I conducted a little investigation of my own. You'd be very proud to see how I conducted myself. – Geralt let his tension ebb, barely listening to the rest of the explanation.

That made him both agreeable and rekindled his own curiosity. And so they went about to see the little smartass again. That lead them to the beggars house and the identity of the fifth victim – Anarietta.


Maybe this will be a good thing. The witcher watched the two sisters reconcile. This duchy needs a little ruthlessness. For all he observed from their, admittedly, short interactions, Anarietta seemed a benevolent ruler, but a rather ineffective one. Hansa's ruled the countryside not even a day's ride off the city, her lords and subjects either actively murderous or just plain stupid, and her knights errant an ineffective loose gathering of highborn layabouts. Maybe, if the court didn't demand Syannas death, she could be what the duchy needed. The executor of the duchess power. With her knowledge of the duchy underground and how bandit bands operate, since she led one such and successfully, if she's to be believed. Now to only get away from here quickly. He needed to talk with Regis. They agreed to meet at the cemetery and from there go back to Dettlaff, who hopefully regrown his head and cooled it in the process. But if the witchers previous experience with court ceremonies was to go about it would still be some hours before he was free to do as he pleased. Dandelion would love this, huh.


The moon was almost full and the mandrake ripe for harvest so on the way they gathered some for Regis's moonshine. Teshan Mutna looked same grim ruin in this light too. Descending down into the prisons pit, Geralt could hear the trashing about in the cage. Delicate scent of vanilla and lavender hit his nose, not a note of old blood underneath. Regis, it seemed, was quite an effective cleaner when motivated.

- Dettlaff, come down. – but not as effective in calming the vampiric rage.

The witcher stood back and watched for a while, but quickly understood that the rage Dettlaff felt would not be smoothed over. It needed to get out. Or be drowned.

- Huh, - he intruded into the scene, - so she used you. Not the first woman who used a powerful man to get her revenge. You were stupid, she deceived you. Tell as old as time. – he made his words cruel, so that Dettlaff concentrated on him. – You're not the only one that was deceived by a beautiful woman. Nor the only one who killed because of that.

- Geralt, I don't think..

- What do you know, witcher? – Dettlaff slammed into the bars. – She made me a beast!

- Yeah, as I said not you only. – witcher sighed and sat down on the chest. – Regis, that moonshine, please. One thing – he addressed Dettlaff again. – my good friend told me: Geralt that is the blabbering of a man who clearly can't snap out of it after a tragic loss. Drink it off, sleep it off, whatever it takes… Just get yourself together and think things through. That's what we're going to do. Old age tradition – after a heartbreak you drink. So we drink, we blabber, cry if need be. And when all is done and we leave here, all that heartache and rage and sadness stays here. My thinking, this place seen worse.

And so they drank.