Chapter 3

The thin haze of smoke drifting over the city of Novigrad carried with it the disturbing scent of burning flesh. The smell was strongest near Hierarch Square, and Thorin gave the area a wide berth as he navigated the narrow, crowded streets.

Another wave of anti-nonhuman, anti-magic sentiment had swept through the city, and he guessed it was the latter that had caused this latest incident. A group known as the Servants of the Eternal Flame had taken to publicly burning, denouncing, and killing those they deemed evil or blasphemous. Their demonstrations had driven the surviving practitioners of magic into hiding.

Thorin hated the violence and prejudice that existed within the walls of Novigrad, and as a rule tried to avoid entering altogether. When necessity called for a visit, as it did now, he did his best to keep his head down. Being a witcher and a dwarf hardly afforded him good standing with the more bigoted residents. More than once had he been forced to draw his blade in defense of his life.

It seemed as though another one of those instances was drawing near. Three men had been following him for a few blocks now, though he had no doubt they thought they were being subtle about it.

He knew from experience that they wouldn't lose interest soon. That left him with two options: wait for them to attack and risk getting the town guard involved, who would hardly be inclined to act in his favor, or finish things quietly.

Thorin took a turn into a shabbier part of town, walking past abandoned houses with broken shutters and stoops littered with bits of paper and rubbish. He headed for a more open courtyard at the end of the alley, ignoring the man who spat at his feet as he passed.

The courtyard was clear, and the windows of the surrounding buildings were dim and empty. The alley was the only exit, but Thorin planned on leaving the place uninhibited anyway. He turned and faced his pursuers, studying them as they approached. The man who had spat at him stood up and left as they passed.

One of the thugs carried a club, and the other two small battle axes. Their various scars and bruises indicated that they were experienced in combat, but that was hardly a justification to pick a fight with a witcher. Thorin drew his steel sword and rolled his left shoulder. His injury was mostly healed, and hopefully wouldn't protest too much as he fought.

The three men spread out as they entered the courtyard, blocking the exit. "You shouldn't have come here, witcher," the one holding the club said. "Nonhumans aren't welcome in Novigrad."

Thorin said nothing, simply taking a ready stance. There was no use in speaking to men who had no doubt planned to kill him as soon as they saw him.

The group seemed to take the hint, and attacked at once. Thorin stepped forward and met the club with his sword, reversing the blow and pushing the man back. Behind him, the two axes whistled through air.

With the man in front of him off balance, Thorin slashed to the side, cutting deep into the leg of the man to the right. He fell with a cry, and Thorin brought his sword up again to catch the blade of the other axe as it swung towards his head. He grunted as the club smashed into his arm, hard enough to loosen his grip on his sword. His leg shot out in a low kick to the man's shin, forcing him off balance once more. Thorin stepped back as the axe slashed towards his chest and readjusted his hold on his blade.

The downed man was struggling to get up, grip tight around his axe, but he fell again as Thorin's blade entered his heart.

"Bastard!" The man with the club charged again, but Thorin ducked under his blow and cut his chest with a high slash.

That left just one man standing. With his companions downed, he kept his distance, searching for an opening as he circled around the courtyard. Thorin stood with his sword pointed at the ground, watching him.

The man rushed forward and his axe came down in a diagonal slash that Thorin parried with enough force to knock the weapon from his hand altogether. The man grunted and choked as the steel blade entered his stomach. Thorin pulled it out a second later, and had already left the courtyard by the time the body hit the ground.

He only spared a moment to wipe down his blade before sheathing it. He needed to get out of this damned city as soon as possible.

As he left the alley, he spotted a couple guards approaching from his right. Thorin kept his eyes ahead and turned to the left. He could feel their gazes focus on him as he walked. No doubt the two swords on his back had caught their eye. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder just in time to see the pair turn into the alley.

It seemed luck was not on his side today. Thorin bit back a curse and sped up his pace. The guards would find three bodies at the end of the alley, and that would be reason enough to pursue and arrest him.

He took a detour towards the market, hoping the crowded area would afford him some cover. It would take about three minutes for the guards to make their discovery and decide to give chase, so he had about that long to make himself scarce.

The smell of baked goods and fresh fruit filled the air as Thorin stepped between two stalls, passing a group of priests who were speaking to one of the merchants. With his armor and weapons, he could hardly blend in with the locals, but the crowds would slow down any pursuit.

Thorin glanced behind himself again, scanning for the red and white striped shirts of Novigrad guards. A flash of scarlet caught his eye, but it was only a woman's headscarf. He turned back around as something collided with his chest.

"Oh," came a familiar voice, and Thorin looked down. "Fancy bumping into you here."

His eyes widened. None other than Bilbo Baggins was smiling up at him, a half-eaten apple perched between two fingers.

"What are you…" His head turned as his witcher's sense caught something, and he spotted the two guards coming down towards him. Upon seeing they no longer had the element of surprise, they sped their approach, one of them pushing aside a stack of crates in his haste.

He cursed under his breath, then turned back to Bilbo. He needed to lose the guards, but he wasn't about to miss a much-needed explanation from the halfling.

"Come with me," he said, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him past a stall selling colorful fabric. They maneuvered their way through the market, moving quickly as sounds of pursuit escalated behind them. For his part, Bilbo was able to keep up, but Thorin didn't loosen his grip.

Once they were free of the market, Thorin broke out into a run, pulling Bilbo along with him. They were on a road next to a canal, but that was much too exposed for him, so at the next opportunity, he ducked into an alley. Halfway through, his witcher's sense alerted him to a guard at the end of the alley. No doubt there was one behind him as well.

Just behind him was a doorway, hopefully deep enough to conceal them both. Thorin stepped up and pressed himself against the faded wood, motioning for Bilbo to do the same.

"Quite a grip you've got," the halfling said.

"Quiet," Thorin replied, but released his arm.

They waited in breathless silence for a couple minutes. Thorin strained his ears for footsteps, but heard nothing. With one hand on his sword, he leaned forward and scanned the alleyway. He let out a breath—it was empty.

"Are they gone?" Bilbo asked, and when Thorin nodded, he stepped down from the doorway and took another bite of his apple.

Now that the danger had passed, he turned his attention to the halfling. "What are you doing here?"

"Mm." He held up a finger as he finished chewing. "I was looking for you."

"Why?"

"Well, I thought about what you said. You want to get something of yours back, and so do I. So I think we should work together."

Thorin tilted his head, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "Are you saying…"

"I want to help you find Phineas Ward."

He shook his head, beginning to question his assumption that the halfling wasn't mad. "You'd just slow me down."

His brows scrunched together. "And how do you figure that, exactly?"

"There's a reason witchers work alone." Thorin turned and began walking. He needed to keep moving, lest the guards pass by this area again and catch him.

"I though that reason was that no one wanted to work with them," Bilbo said, falling into stride next to him.

That was hardly the point, but Thorin let it pass in favor of asking a much more urgent question. "And how do I know you're not working for him?"

"Working for…You think I'm working for Phineas Ward?"

"Say that name a little louder, why don't you?" Thorin said as they entered a crowded street.

"I know there's nothing I could say that could truly convince you, but I'm not working for him." Bilbo put a hand on his arm, making him stop and lock eyes with him. "I trusted you because you hadn't given me a reason not to. Do you think you can do the same for me?"

Thorin searched his eyes—dark blue and earnest—for the barest sliver of deception or malice. Once again, his search was fruitless, and he was thrown into confusion. How had this halfling become such a blind spot for him?

Bilbo was right in that he had given Thorin no solid reason to distrust him. And though he was loathe to let it cloud his judgement, another part of him enjoyed the company of another, of someone whose words and actions towards him weren't laced with prejudice.

"If you can keep up," he said, and started off towards the docks.

The docks of Novigrad allowed Thorin a breath of fresh air. As he exited the narrow streets and entered the open space bordered on one side by the sea, the salty breeze pushed back the haze of smoke. He kept his guard up, though, as he and Bilbo walked towards the larger boats that were docked at one end. He was so close to getting out of the city, and he would not allow anything to catch him off guard.

"We're taking a ship?" Bilbo asked, tossing the rest of his apple to a stray dog. "I was under the impression that Phi—that we were looking in the city."

Thorin deflected the question with one of his own. "How do you know of him?"

"Well, my house was robbed one night. Something quite valuable was taken from me. I went asking around to try and find who had done it, and that name came up."

"What did he take?"

Bilbo gave a light shrug. "A family heirloom. What about you?"

"The same."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What makes a person decide to steal?" He sent a sideways glance towards Thorin. "Especially from a witcher."

"Utter foolishness, it seems." He scanned the street once more, still looking out for more guards.

They reached the area where the larger vessels were docked. Thorin ruled out one of the ships immediately—the red and gold banner indicated it was going north to Kovir. The other two were possibly headed for Skellige, though.

They approached the nearest of them, the wood of the docks creaking lightly as they walked. A couple of men were on the deck of the ship, moving some barrels to a lower level. They paused in their task as Thorin and Bilbo approached. One of them did a double take at the former's two swords, and whispered something to his companion.

"Where is this ship headed?" Thorin asked once he was close enough to be heard.

One of the men ignored him, disappearing below deck with two small barrels balanced on either shoulder. The other glanced down after his companion, likely considering following him, then muttered, "What's it to you?"

Bilbo made a small, displeased noise in the back of his throat, but said nothing.

"We seek passage to Skellige," Thorin said.

"Well, this one's sailing up to Blaviken," the man said, still avoiding eye contact. "So you'd best try your luck elsewhere."

"And the other ship down there?" Thorin gestured with his chin to the last boat on the dock. "Where are they headed?"

"How should I know?" The man spat on the deck, scuffed it with the toe of his worn boot, then disappeared below deck.

"Not very helpful, those two," Bilbo said as they walked back along the docks towards the third boat.

"I didn't expect anything less."

"Do people always treat you like that?"

The question caught him off guard for a moment, and Thorin had to remind himself that he and Bilbo lived in very different realities. Halflings in this world were grouped in with dwarves and elves by those who despised nonhumans. But unlike the latter two, they were content for the most part to live simple and unobtrusive lifestyles, and were often treated with a reserved respect for that. With his wealth, Bilbo had most likely lived a comfortable and peaceful life. Such interactions as the one they'd just had were probably unfamiliar.

"They're not always so polite."

When they reached the last boat, Thorin didn't need his witcher's sense to know that something was wrong. A group of five men were standing in a tight circle on the deck, arguing amongst each other in low voices. Before he could get close enough to make out what they were saying, the men caught sight of them and fell silent.

He decided to get straight to the point this time. "Is this boat headed to Skellige?" he asked the group, stepping to the edge of the dock.

The men eyed him warily. "Aye," one of them replied.

"Well, it was supposed to," another added. A third hissed for him to be quiet.

"What does that mean?" Thorin frowned. "Where is your captain?"

"Bloody good question, that." The second man to speak scowled and crossed his arms.

"You a witcher?" the first asked, eyeing the hilts of Thorin's swords.

"Yes," he replied.

"And you seek passage to Skellige?"

"I do."

At this, the men formed a circle again and began muttering to each other. After a couple minutes, they broke apart and the first one to speak stepped forward. "Well, see, our captain's in a spot of trouble. Dumb bastard couldn't pay his debt to some of Whoreson Junior's boys, and they took him sometime last night."

"And we're supposed to leave tomorrow," another added.

Thorin crossed his arms. "So you want me to retrieve your captain." He'd been asked more than once during his time as a witcher to solve problems that had nothing to do with monsters. Witchers were trained to kill and lacked a fear of death, and therefore some people confused them with mercenaries. Generally he had no interest in such tasks, but this one appeared necessary if he was to get to Skellige.

"Any idea where he's being held?"

The man shrugged. "I know they have a hideout somewhere in The Bits."

"And if I rescue him, will you grant me passage on your ship?"

A couple of the men fidgeted at this. "That's up to the captain," another spoke up. "You'll have to take it up with him."

Thorin frowned. That was no guarantee, but the man was right—ultimately, it was up to the captain, and allowing a witcher on their ship would likely be no small matter.

Hopefully his gratitude for being rescued would overshadow his prejudice.

"If your captain is still alive, I'll bring him back," Thorin said, then turned and walked back along the docks. He was almost surprised when Bilbo caught up with him. The halfling hadn't said a word during his conversation with the sailors, and had the disconcerting ability to make himself nearly invisible at times.

"So we're going to The Bits to get this captain back?" Bilbo asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"No," Thorin said. "I'm going to The Bits. I need you to stay out of my way."

"Sorry, what?" Bilbo stopped in his tracks, causing Thorin to pause and turn towards him. "I thought we agreed to start trusting each other."

"I agreed to nothing of the sort." He stepped closer, crossing his arms again. "We've known each other for less than two days, and even if that period had been longer, there still remains the fact that you have no way to defend yourself. If you come with me, there's the chance you'll get yourself or both of us killed."

"Well," Bilbo said after a moment, "I do have these." He pulled aside his coat, revealing two knives attached to his belt.

"And how far do you expect to get with a couple of knives?"

Bilbo cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and Thorin shook his head, turning away.

"You'd be useless in a fight."

"Compared to a witcher I might be." He motioned for him to start walking again, and they continued on down the dock. "But I didn't come armed with just that. This captain is in a spot of trouble because he couldn't pay his debt, right? We might be able to negotiate his freedom without having to fight at all."

"You mean to pay his ransom."

Bilbo lifted his chin and looked him in the eye. "I'd rather that than there be bloodshed."

The halfling was tenacious—Thorin would give him that. And he had no wish to enter a fight if he didn't have to. His worry, however, was that their encounter with Whoreson Junior's thugs would escalate to violence despite any diplomatic efforts they might extend.

Ten years of bloodshed had taught him that the way to peace for a witcher was not an easy one.

"Let us find their hideout first. We'll talk more once I've looked over the area."

Bilbo must have counted that as a victory, as he flashed a satisfied smile that did not annoy Thorin quite as much as it should have and said, "All right, then. Shall we get going?"

The Bits was the most crowded district in Novigrad, as well as the poorest. Most of the buildings were rundown apartments, filthy and boarded up. The sailors hadn't given him much to go on in terms of finding the hideout, but after a couple blocks an alley in particular caught his eye. Two men stood guard on either side of a stairway leading underground.

After scouting the rest of the district and deciding the guarded stairs were their best bet, they paused in a nearby alley to plan their next move.

"There's no way to know how many men are in there," Thorin said. "If the place is underground, we don't even know how large it is. I think it would be best to bargain with them first. But…" He held up a hand before Bilbo could speak. "We still don't know for certain if the captain is in there, or if they'll be agreeable to trading him for gold. I'm going in there alone to find out if bargaining is worth it. If they agree, I'll come back here and get you."

Bilbo's brow arched. "And how long should I wait before I go in after you?"

Thorin let out an exasperated sigh. "I trust you won't be so foolish." With that, he turned and left the alleyway.

The two guards at the door watched him as he approached, and as he drew nearer, Thorin sensed a flare of vindictive recognition from the two—hardly a foreign sentiment, but sharper than he was used to.

He stood in front of the two hulking men and looking them over. The one on the right had his sword improperly buckled to his belt, a glaring sign of inexperience. Clearly he'd been chosen solely for his size. If they chose to attack, he would cut him down while he fumbled for his weapon. The one on the left, though he appeared to be sturdy as an ox, favored his right leg. Another weakness that, especially for one of Thorin's height, could easily be exploited.

The men below must have been extraordinarily cocky to leave such vulnerable members guarding their front door. That, or, Thorin mused uneasily, they had large enough numbers within that external defenses were of little concern.

"I need to speak with whoever's in charge here."

"What for?" the one on the right grunted, his poorly-trimmed mustache fluttering as he spoke.

"I've received word that the captain of one of the ships at port is being held by some of Whoreson Junior's men. I've come to bargain for his return."

"You're here for Captain Carter?" A slow grin spread across the other guard's face, like that of a wolf's snarl. "We shan't keep you waiting, then." Both men stepped aside, granting him passage to whatever lay below.

Thorin's nerves were on high alert, now. Some danger or trap lay in wait behind that door—that much was clear from the bloodthirsty satisfaction pouring from the guard in waves.

But turning back was not an option. Steeling himself for whatever would come next, Thorin stepped past the two guards and set off down the stairs.

At the bottom was a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. A couple of men loitered against the wall, and they watched him with glinting eyes as he passed. At the end of the hall was another room where men sat and played cards or drank. They all looked up as he entered, and the room fell silent.

A bald man in a red shirt turned to straddle his chair, leaning his forearms on the back. "Pour us another one, Percy. We've got a witcher in our midst."

"I've come to bargain for Captain Carter." Thorin scanned the room. There were seven men inside, with two halls besides the one he'd come from leading out of the area. Most of the men were armed, but quite a few were also intoxicated.

"And what would a witcher be wanting with a spineless, seafaring deadbeat?" the bald man asked, not moving from his languid position on the chair.

"I'm sure you'd be more interested in the gold I'll pay for his return," Thorin said, hoping Bilbo had the funds for however much they wanted.

The man scoffed. "Well, it seems like you're jumping to conclusions, here. Whoreson Junior's men aren't all about money. Are we, lads?"

A chorus of no's rose from the men, the volume further proof that several of them were drunk.

"No." The man in the red shirt fixed Thorin with a cold stare that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "We've got other values. We don't at all appreciate dishonest deadbeats. And we certainly don't appreciate murderers."

There was a scraping noise at the other end of the room, and Thorin turned to see another man push back his chair and stand up. A white bandage was visible under the collar of his shirt.

Shit. It was one of the men Thorin had fought earlier that day. Apparently the cut to his chest hadn't been as deep as he thought.

"Captain Carter will go free in a couple days," the bald man continued. "We understand that sometimes funds just aren't available. But taking a life, especially the life of one of our boys…"

Everyone in the room was standing now, weapons drawn.

"Well, that's just something we can't forgive."

Drink every time Thorin gets into a fight.

So what do we think, guys? Is Bilbo trustworthy or not?

I tried to keep the Witcher lore to a minimum to avoid any confusion, but let me know if you'd like less (or more) of that.

Thanks a lot to ZentangledFox15, InfinityZero1, and Mjoern for the lovely comments! Your feedback means the world to me!