~ WRITERS' NOTE:

Greetings, our dearest readers! We came to almost 70 chapters, an incredible amount of words, events and scenes, and we want to acknowledge your loyalty to this story and the efforts you put into talking to us providing your comments. We're immensely happy that you still read us and review our work. It means the world to us! Thank you so very much and stay safe! ~

The hail had exhausted itself after an hour, but the rain refused to subside to more than a drizzle. It added no good to Geralt's foul mood. He had scarcely managed a short nap before an unexplained fire had burst out on the nightstand that was blamed on the candle and exceptionally worn out wood. He didn't feel like continuing to sleep in a room reeking of smoke, and they left the tavern upon purchasing a loaf of bread and a bottle of Temerian wine.

"Perhaps you should go to Oxenfurt or Novigrad to see your friends," Kain suggested, "and I'll try to find the godlings or that old woman."

"No one knows where she is," Geralt said, chewing on a piece of bread. "One told me she used to live in Oreton, another swore it was Drudge."

"I was sworn to it was Frischlow. And some man said he heard she lived up in Benek."

"I've been to Benek not long ago, haven't seen her there, nor heard of a blind crone."

Kain chuckled. "Why would you, unless you searched every hut."

"She's an old woman that can't see. Wouldn't it be her last pleasure in life to warm her bones in the sun outside her house?"

"Benek is a windy place - no old person would like it there. And it's a bit outside of the Bog's area. Besides, she wasn't that much of a cripple with those eyes, as we've seen."

"What if the Crones gave her that power and now it's gone?"

Kain shrugged. "It's possible. But then the only thing you gain from seeing her is getting a confirmation of it."

"That would be good enough. Someone, or something, is stirring the bog's creatures, making them attack people. Something attracts the Hunt. I have to investigate all the connections."

"That's a damn lot of work, Geralt. Especially now."

"Nevertheless, we can't leave until this is settled."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Will you go back to Oxenfurt?"

"I don't like to send you to the swamps alone, and the godlings know me. I need to be the one talking to them."

"I can visit a village or two while you're gone, then."

Geralt considered him. "You're not inclined to go back with me?"

"This way we don't lose time and... I'm not, really."

"She won't hate you."

"She's hurt. Hardly she'd want to see me. It should ease a little."

"Ease for her or for you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Hmm."

They rode to the bridge, leading to the island where Mulbrydale and Hanged Man's Tree lay. They stopped short of the crossing.

"I'll go to Oxenfurt," Geralt said. "It's closer and there's someone I'd like to talk to before picking our route with this. Where do we meet?"

"I will visit the boatmaker and then Oreton or Drudge. Depends on what else people tell me, if anything."

"Come to Oxenfurt tomorrow by dusk."

Kain nodded. They bid their farewells and rode in opposite directions.

At the decline of the day, nothing new was discovered on the bank problem, but Rosemary and Thyme was filling with guests rather rapidly. Zoltan was hosting, shaking hands, exchanging opinions and rumors, laughing and promising some rounds of Gwent later to lighten the atmosphere, while the maids fussed with trays and bottles, hurrying on their way between the kitchen and the hall. The courtesans strolled among the patrons, glasses in their hands, and masks on their faces; a mixed band of humans and elves played on the stage where a trio of women danced seductively, wearing close to nothing.

Most talks were about the banks and how anyone could pull it off. The majority believed it could be no other than magic users, others thought the bankers conspired to make a fuss and withdraw some large sums or rob some clients of their jewels and coin. There was no version of the event to satisfy all conditions, and thus a lot of arguments broke out, more wine was consumed, voices raised, and more food ordered to ease the agitation.

"Any word from witchers?" Zoltan asked, catching a moment to seek out Ciri who was standing on the stairs observing the crowd.

Ciri tore her gaze off the table that was playing Gwent to focus on the dwarf.

"No. None at all. I sent them a message, but..." she shrugged. "Maybe I did it wrong."

Or maybe they just did not want to answer her.

That thought stung.

"Darn," the dwarf said, disappointed, but then his face composed a smile for Ciri's sake. "It's all right, lassie. Another day or so. Long way from Ellander."

"Yes. If only there was a quicker way," Ciri mused sarcastically.

Zoltan burst out laughing. "Aye, lassie, ye don't get to see him jump that offering. Ye wanna go down, drink and gamble a little?"

"Don't have any coin at the moment," she said, eyeing the crowd. A smirk claimed her lips. "And I'm not sure I'm willing to offer up anything else they might want."

Zoltan's smile dimmed a notch at the innuendo, but he decided not to sharpen his attention on it. A slip of tongue, mayhaps? She's been through questioning, after all.

"All good, suit yerself. Yer witch all right?"

"As far as I can tell. Probably tired, though. Being interrogated and suspected of crime wears on the mind, I'm sure."

"Aye, it does. Well, here's to hope they find who did it sooner than we all lose our patience and freedoms." He patted her arm and went back to the patrons, joining one of the game tables.

Ciri watched him go with a thoughtful expression. "Yes. Wouldn't that be wonderful."

It was long after midnight when Geralt walked into The Alchemy to book himself a room. There were no free ones, and even Dandelion's eternal reserve was given to a couple of merchants. Stjepan the Innkeeper was incredibly sorry to disappoint the famous Geralt of Rivia, but there was nothing he could do, given the situation in Novigrad. Icy dread locked Geralt's spine when he asked the innkeeper to elaborate, but before the man could, a melodic voice from the room called the Witcher's name.

"Took you long enough," Fringilla remarked, eyeing Geralt with her cunning green eyes candlelight danced in. "We finished a few days back, and your poet still lingers waiting for you, as he explained."

"Where is he? Something happened?"

"Not here, no. Triss got sick in her usual manner, spent a week or more in bed. Margarita took her back to Novigrad earlier today. She's fine now, just a bit weak. And I came here for your poet friend, but he refused me, said he'd wait for you so you could ride. I've been sitting here ever since."

"Why?" Geralt asked, sneering a little.

She shrugged like a cat stretching. "Call it a hunch. Thought you'd come."

"What happened in Novigrad?"

"Some amazing thing – all the banks were broken into and robbed. Dijkstra is digging dirt with his hooves, demanding you. Phil is antsy. Yennefer and Ciri have been questioned by the secret service – they've been to Vivaldi the day before the robbery. Both set free, though, so don't worry."

Geralt scowled, digesting. And worrying. "Dijkstra wants me, why?"

"Investigation isn't getting far. They got nothing, as far as I know. The magic blocks did nothing to prevent it, and all bank guards are missing, except for the signs of a fight."

"I see. Couldn't be the worst timing."

"Indeed," she sighed and smiled. "Trouble picks no time. It strikes."

"We shall ride there, then. Dandelion at the Academy, I presume?"

"At the clinic, more likely. They spend a lot of time with the medic girl."

Geralt smirked. "I see. You going back?"

"I can take you, but one of you. The city is blocked – they shall let you in to bring you to Dijkstra, but not Dandelion."

"Hmm. Means I have to ride, and you should take him. If he wants to go, that is."

"You look rundown, Geralt. I should take you."

He pondered. "Can this whole mess wait a day?"

"Yennefer seems to be a good suspect for them unless you find a better one. So probably not."

Geralt cursed, scoffing out an exhale. "They locked her up?"

"Not yet. Philippa said it's undecided."

"All right. Take Dandelion if he's willing, and go. I'll ride."

"Geralt…"

"I'll be fine."

"Very well." She stood and strolled for the door. Both the Innkeeper and the witcher watched her go with a pleased twitch of their mouths.

Ciri was in the process of undressing for bed when she sensed a portal appearing somewhere in the inn. Fringilla or Philippa, she reasoned. Either way, it was of little interest to her.

She slipped into the bed Kain had abandoned more than a week earlier and set her mind on rest.

"Are you ploughing joking with me?" Dijkstra raged. "I'm in shit up to my damn nose and you come here belated to fucking play hard-to-get like a damn virgin? You think I'm jesting with you and your witch-cunt? Watch me send her back to cells in manacles and let them guards have their way with her, it's the least I can get for all the trouble!"

Geralt was glaring at the spy with his arms folded, his jaw set. He didn't interrupt until there came a natural pause in Sigi's spit-flying speech.

"I didn't deny you," he said in a quiet menacing tone. "All I said was I need some shuteye before I go in. I'll need a potion, it's draining work and I haven't slept for-"

"Look closely at my face, Witcher, and tell me if any of the pores in my skin betray that I care about your fucking sleep! I don't even know what sleep is in this shithole, trials and problems keep piling up like no one's business, and then you come to me mumbling about your sodding shuteye! You know what, go and have your sleep while your sorceress entertains the guards, how about that?"

"Do you want me to solve your problem, Dijkstra, or you want me to eviscerate you?" Geralt asked, deceptively calm. His eyes shone reflecting candlelight, and it made him look like an undead. Sigi felt an involuntary quiver deep in his gut.

"The whole shitload of people will be on you when it's daylight," he argued, fisting his hand on the desk. "Better do it now when you can and then go fuck yourself to sleep if you must. Someone broke through the magic blocks and your damn sorceress was the only witch visiting the bank that day. I got no one else to pin it on, so I swear to gods and monsters I shall throw her under the axe."

"She has no motive."

Dijkstra laughed, the sentiment was devoid of mirth. "It's hilarious how you still believe you understand their motives, Geralt. Where's your White Cat?"

"Dealing with a contract elsewhere."

Sigi leaned forward with a nasty smile. "I bet he's not doing it from his bed. Listen, Witcher. You go in and sniff those banks out and tell me of anything you find. And then you get your shuteye before you drag the criminal before me so I rub the secret service in their incompetence. You, your Yennefer, and your little devil Cirilla - all win from this. How much do you care to let them sleep this night in peace?"

Geralt's footfalls knocked obnoxiously loudly against the polished floors of the best wood that could be ordered for import. Dwarves never believed in cutting expenses when it was about the luxurious face of their business. They believed in the face value and rarely went wrong. The smell was saturated and burning his nostrils despite it being more than a day old. The potion sharpened his senses to extremes and he felt sick to the core, mostly so due to horrible fatigue.

The papers and drawers were in disarray, but Geralt found no evidence of anyone else's tampering with them but the dwarves' own. Dijkstra had told him about the evidence Vivaldi had provided of a possible conflict between him and Yennefer who was denied a letter addressed for another person. How she tried to bribe her way to it.

What could possibly be in that letter, however, Dijkstra didn't say. When Geralt had asked, he had shrugged his significant shoulders and said, "That's beyond the matter of importance for your job."

There was blood spatter on the walls and floor, smeared trails painting a short but fiery fight with a fatal outcome for the men guarding this bank. Geralt discovered a few bits of burnt flesh stuck to drawers and a chair, but other than that, there was no trail of their existence. Like they vanished. Evaporated.

Teleported away.

"What kind of magic does the bank security block?" he had asked the spy.

"Hell if I know the whole damn list. Hypnosis, telepathy, portals, witcher signs, and spells."

It would take a long time to get rid of the bodies through a portal, the Witcher thought. Especially if they were oozing blood or shedding burnt skin. There were no signs of any body being dragged, not in any of the assaulted banks. Only the same smells, the same conditions.

"I don't know of any creature or person that could've pulled it off in one night and with such ease," he informed Dijkstra outside of the Giancardi bank, the last on his list.

"You better get an idea," Sigi said. "We can't afford to end up with none."

Geralt sighed, rubbing his forehead - a headache began to pound harder behind it. "I need rest. And afterward, I'll need to examine the security with a help of someone who understands how it works. Preferably a sorceress."

"Don't even think about it," Sigi grimaced. "It will be Phil."

"Triss."

"It's decided."

"Then you can stuff this investigation up your ass and dance around the market square trying to pin this on Yennefer while I'll holler from every corner how it's been your scheme with Philippa all along. Let's see whose version they like best."

"Sod you and your threats, Witcher, you can't win this."

Geralt stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm your only chance to win this."

"Fuck you."

It was scarcely an hour before dawn when Geralt finally made his way to Rosemary and Thyme. It was empty and quiet. He could hear Zoltan snoring - he was the loudest upon drifting away. He was up late - judging by the smells, the cabaret had been working.

Geralt was climbing the stairs and ruffled his hair still damp from his little detour for a swim. He'd figured he couldn't endure a bath, but the urge to wash off all the things he had dealt with in the past days had been insufferable.

Yennefer was asleep in his bed; he walked on cat's feet, smiling at the sight of her. There was a wrinkle on her brow, her sleep not quite serene. He climbed under covers next to her, planting a gentle kiss to her temple before the slumber claimed him.

Yennefer had steered clear of the opening festivities after her brief visit with Triss, holing herself away in her bedroom until eventually sleep consumed her.

A lot had been on her mind, and it had taken off from where it had left off once she opened them again many hours later, feeling a familiar body behind her, one whose scent was as definable as it was comforting.

She hadn't even heard him come in.

It was still dark outside but she could smell the sunrise on the air as if everything around them was beginning to shift. Without a word, and not wanting to get into the troubles that would soon face the both of them, she reached back for his arm, circling it around her waist, reveling in the temporary security he provided while she could. The last two days had been nerve-wracking beyond measure.

The insistent knocking on their door yanked both from their sleep.

"Geralt! We need to go. Wake up! I'll wait downstairs."

They heard Triss walk away down the corridor for the stairs.

Geralt heaved a long sigh, rubbing his eyes full of sand. They burned. His head was starting the pounding again in the middle of his brain. He felt sick at the mere thought of moving.

Yennefer had meant to wait until Geralt woke up so she could talk, fill him in on what happened at the bank, but she'd fallen asleep in the embrace and Triss's voice had cut through like a splash of cold water. She was almost expecting guards to come barreling in after her one at a time. They didn't and for a time she was able to relax, to twist around and take in the exhaustion on Geralt's face.

"You're going somewhere with Triss?"

"Yes, the banks. Dijkstra seized me last night at the gates and made me examine the banks. He wants someone to hang or behead publicly, and if I don't find that someone, he's not opposed to it being you."

"He said as much when he put me in shackles yesterday," Yennefer stated, not all shaken by that news. "How's Triss meant to help?"

"I might need some consulting about their security in the banks, and Dijkstra insisted on Philippa. I guess I won that argument for someone more friendly to you."

He grunted sitting up, wincing at the ache in his neck.

"Your perfume still lingers at Vivaldi's," he added, peering at her over his shoulder. "What happened there, Yen? I got nothing thus far to exonerate you. Aside from the magic-blocks that they say weren't disarmed."

"I was there," Yennefer began and sat up, reaching for his knee to keep him from getting out of bed to quickly, her right hand shifting so she could silence any outside interference and keep anyone from listening in magically. She met his eyes. "But not only once. I returned later in the evening—after dark—to take an unlawful look at the item I'd been denied by Vimme. It was meant to be above suspicion and as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, it didn't go as intended. Ciri was with me."

"Ciri?" he frowned. His skin bristled with gooseflesh in foreboding. "What happened?"

"She slaughtered them," Yennefer said, her choice of words bitter on her tongue. "And that's not even the part that terrifies me. While it was happening, she sounded like she'd enjoyed it, like she was celebrating in seeing them burn alive and felt nothing for it when it was all over."

He was staring at her with glassy eyes, trying to comprehend it, and the revealed truth was like a slimy eel he had just pulled from a pond. It kept slipping out between his fingers, drawing blood with its teeth.

He tried to swallow, but the invisible lump in his throat didn't let him. "Why... why were you there?"

"Does that really matter right now, Geralt?" Yennefer asked, touching a hand to the side of his face. She'd been struggling herself to accept the truth but she needed for him to focus and grasp what she was saying, there wasn't much time with Triss already waiting downstairs. "What you need to know is that after it happened I made her get rid of the bodies and take them as far from Novigrad as she could. She dropped them in the ocean somewhere. The trinkets we stole, to make it look like an actual theft, didn't follow too long after. I had hoped that by painting the picture that way Vimme might assume the guards had gotten greedy, fought amongst themselves, and ran away. Apparently he doesn't believe that and Dijkstra refuses to shift his own opinion."

"Four banks," Geralt uttered with effort. "All four banks. What did you need in all of them?"

"Geralt!" Triss called from downstairs. "Hurry!"

Yennefer wanted nothing more than to squash Triss's throat. Could she stop? It had been what, five minutes? She couldn't explain any faster than she was. Geralt was on slow mode.

"I didn't need anything from the three other banks. Ciri did those without consulting with me as she thought she could make it look like some uniformed gang attack."

Something pinched inside his chest; he let out an abrupt exhale and hid his face in his hands, rubbing it. His mind refused to accept the thought of Ciri's crimes.

"What was so important that you had to break in there in the first place?" he asked wearily.

"A letter," she answered, withdrawing her hand, limiting herself to just as much honesty as she could without telling him the truth of her search for the djinn information. "A clue that relates to an influential magical book."

It didn't console him one bit, but he had no steam to question her further. Whatever the book was about he might not understand, anyway.

He made himself get up and slowly pulled his trousers on, then reached for the shirt, his face a mask of tired apathy.

He felt numb. He didn't think he'd like the alternative better.

Yennefer lay back down as he got out of bed, finally able to breathe now that he knew the truth and could help her tend to the larger issue that was Ciri.

"Is there anything you want us to do?"

"I have no idea what to do," he said, buckling his jerkin.

Yennefer slid from beneath the covers, moving to help him with the buckles on his armor, tightening anything he wasn't already doing himself. "Just do what you do best and steer things in the direction they need to go."

Ciri had woken to who she assumed was Triss calling out to Geralt. Which made no sense. Unless Geralt had made it to Novigrad during the night.

The girl reluctantly slipped out of bed and sought her clothes, pulling them on before peering out into the hallway. It was empty, but she heard several voices from downstairs. Breakfast time, she supposed.

The door to Geralt's old room was closed. Ciri stared at it intently and focused. She could feel him close by. Her lips curved in a pleased smile.

He looked at her, bewildered. "How am I supposed to solve this?"

Yennefer gave one of the buckles a jerk, touching a hand to his face, smiling slightly. It hardly surprised her that he had a problem with deceit. "You don't. It's already solved. What you have to do now is make sure that what you see and find once inside the bank—and what I've told you about the gangs—is what Dijkstra and his consorts believe. He trusts you."

"You don't understand or pretend not to," he hissed. "I got nothing, just like their secret service. Ciri's power is uniquely capable of this, and there is no possible alternative to present to Dijkstra for his scaffold."

"He doesn't know the degree of her powers. Nor should he or anyone else," Yennefer retorted sharply, removing the hand from his face to grip front of his armor as if she expected him to break away. "Don't let Triss open her mouth for anything other than advice, and if it comes to it — and there is absolutely nothing else — then you keep with what Dijkstra's decided."

"You can't be executed for things you didn't do," he argued. "I won't let you take the blame."

"If it comes down to protecting Ciri, then that's what we do. It's what we've always done." Even if he didn't quite remember that, either. She finished the last few buckles on his armour, checking to make sure it was on correctly, and then took a step back to let him finish what the remainder of his attire. "At least eat before you go. I doubt they're going to care much if you collapse out there or not and you look tired. Where's Kain?"

Geralt didn't care how, but he intended to avoid pinning it on Yennefer at any cost. "He's in Velen on a contract," he responded habitually, thinking he could use his brother's help here. He wasn't sure he could do this alone.

"Don't take all of this on yourself, Geralt. I'll help you as I can, you just need to tell me what you want. We'll keep communication open."

She showed him what she meant by projecting the conclusion into his head.

'You're not alone.'

"I want to find a way to save you," he said. "If there is anything I could blame this on - you should tell me."

"The letter, it could also be that it would attract unsavory people. Those willing to kill. I can't point a finger at anyone off the top of the bar, but it is a possibility. But it's not worth it. The best we can do, with what Ciri herself has tried to do, is guide the investigation in the direction of a Hanza. There are more than enough to choose from and none of them are enthused about polities or those within the council."

"Geralt!" Triss called again from the stairs. "The guards are here. We have to go!"

"Coming!" He turned to Yennefer with urgency. "I can't lie about a hanza - no human could've done it, and all of them know it. I need a magical criminal." He sighed and leaned to kiss her. "I'll see if I can find it. Stay put and watch Ciri. She... ehm... maybe she's upset and acting out. I have to go."

He picked his sword belt and pulled the door open.

She was surprised that he wanted to kiss her after all that had been revealed, at least in part, but she'd taken returned the gesture and followed him to the door, peering out into the hall behind him.

Ciri looked from Triss' direction to Geralt as he came out. She was leaning against her own doorway.

"You're both in a hurry."

"They've a lot to do today," Yennefer stated from over Geralt's shoulder, making a gesture for Ciri to come join her in the bedroom once they'd shared their greetings.

"Dijkstra doesn't wait," Geralt added, his heart aching at the sight of Ciri. He couldn't even make himself smile and felt the horrifying numbness again.

Triss met him on the stairs with an embrace he returned. "I'm so happy to see you," she whispered. They proceeded outside where the guards waited to take them to the bank.

"What the heck is going on here?" Zoltan demanded, strolling from his room. He glanced between Ciri and Yennefer, then turned away from the latter given her state of undress.

Ciri frowned. Geralt had barely looked at her, barely acknowledged her presence. He was not happy to see her. That much was obvious. She just did not know why.

"What's happened?" she asked Yennefer, assuming by Zoltan's equal confusion he did not know more than her.

"Was Geralt here?" Zoltan asked. "I thought I heard somethin."

"He was," Yennefer clarified, pulling Ciri in front of her to shield her nudity from Zoltan's gaze should he turn to face them. "He's been called away. They want him to start with the bank. He should be back later."

"That ploughin' Dijkstra doesn't let anyone catch a break," Zoltan spat. "Both them witchers gone?"

"The other Witcher is attending to a contract in Velen," Yennefer said, meeting Ciri's eyes since she'd missed that portion of the conversation. "My guess is it'll take him a few more days to get back to Novigrad. Probably for the best."

"If the city opens at all by then," scoffed the dwarf. "Ye two will eat? I'll see of our cook is up yet."

He went for the stairs and down.

Ciri's lips thinned. Kain was taking contracts now? That was new. It was far more likely he simply had not wanted to come.

"Yes," she called absentmindedly after Zoltan. "I could devour a horse."

Yennefer didn't bother to respond.

With everything that happened yesterday and her fluctuating appetite, she could eat, too. Had Geralt stopped to grab something as she'd suggested? He needed all the energy he could get.

She doubted it.

She took a step back into the bedroom, tugging Ciri in with her, and then gently closed the door, reactivating the spell that had broken when it opened.

"I told Geralt about us breaking into the bank so he knows what's going on."

"And he's angry," Ciri deduced, folding her arms over her chest.

"You believe he shouldn't be?"

Ciri shrugged. "I believe he has done plenty of reckless and daring things in his past. Many of them illegal. Why should he judge us so harshly?"

"Because, as you know, Dijkstra is threatening to make an example of me should they not find someone to pin the robbery on, as they don't believe our tale of the hanza. I've asked Geralt to do his best to convince them otherwise."

"I bet it's Philippa influencing Dijkstra. She has always longed to get rid of you," Ciri pointed out, perching on the unmade bed.

"Probable. I haven't quite figured out her approach yet, nor am I sure why she was the one to let me go yesterday. My guess is that it was nothing more than a demonstration of power."

"It doesn't matter. If they try to pin it on you again, we'll make them regret it," Ciri said. "Now get dressed so we can go eat."

"I don't think violence is the way to go about dealing with this incident, it'll only make us look more distrustful. The best we can do is find someone believable to blame this on."

"Frame an innocent person?" Ciri's lips quirked. "Geralt will never agree to that."

"And you would?" Yennefer asked, unhurriedly climbing into her clothes.

Ciri thought about that for a moment. "Better them than you."

That was Yennefer's opinion where Ciri was concerned, but she didn't feel as good seeing it as indifference on her daughter's face. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"Alright." Ciri got to her feet and headed for the door, closing it behind her to give Yennefer privacy to finish dressing.

There weren't many people downstairs. None of the sorceresses, nor Avallac'h. But the kitchen was staffed and she could hear Zoltan puttering around behind the bar.

"Is it too early to drink, you think?"

He cast an uncertain look at her from his accounting books. "Depends on what ye mean to drink, lassie. But who am I do stop ye?"

Fringilla made her languid descend and settled at one of the tables. Zoltan headed for the kitchen.

"I'll see about yer breakfast," he said.

Ciri would normally have felt more discomfort in the presence of one of the sorceresses, but this time as she watched Fringilla approach, there was none of that. Strange.

"Did you return with Dandelion?"

"He decided to linger," she said, eyeing Ciri with lazy interest.

Ciri rested one elbow on the bar, turning towards the sorceress. "He say why?"

"I didn't interrogate him on his reasons," she shrugged. "Perhaps he'll tell you if you ask him."

"I wouldn't have to if he was here."

Ciri dragged the nearest stool closer and took a seat.

"He seems to like it there better. Or it's someone who's there that he doesn't want to leave." Fringilla allowed a small smile.

It was strange, Ciri thought, for Dandelion to leave all responsibility of his inn to someone else. But there was no reason to linger on that thought.

She eyed the bottles behind the counter, pondering what would go best with her breakfast.

Zoltan and one of the maids emerged from the kitchen with trays. They served Fringilla and Ciri on the same table. It was fried eggs with slices of smoked bacon and a siding of grilled vegetables. A bowl of baked apples in honey was for a dessert.

Ciri thanked them and reminded Zoltan Yennefer was on her way, as well.

She dug into her meal, eyeing Fringilla with mild interest every now and then. It felt funny doing something as mundane as eating next to her.

"Triss was up early," Fringilla mused. "I presume she went with Geralt?"

"Guess so. I wasn't given a report."

"I suppose not," the sorceress smiled, forking a carrot. "Shame the other witcher didn't arrive - they would've finished with this sooner. They seem to work well together. Makes one wonder why a witcher is supposed to be a loner."

"Too few of them left, I suppose," Ciri said. "Keeping everyone in the same place would be inefficient."

"Isn't it stupid when they die one by one taking up missions alone while they could've survived working in duos?" Fringilla cut herself a slice of apple to go with bacon.

"You'll have to take that up with them. I fear I have no influence on that decision making."

"Oh, no, thank you," Fringilla laughed. "It's none of my business, just a fair thought."

Zoltan came back with another tray for Yennefer who was yet to appear, and offered Ciri a bottle of apple cider.

"Does that go for drinkin?"

"It's perfect," Ciri said, smiling up at him. "Thank you, Zoltan. You spoil me."

She pushed her plate slightly to the side to make room for the bottle.

"Have you already eaten?"

"When did I have time? Only goin to. Geralt and Triss haven't, either, far as I see." He tsked with his tongue and went for his own meal.

"No. He didn't even have time to say hello, apparently." And Ciri was slightly bitter about that.

She stabbed her vegetables with her fork, gathering several before sending them to her mouth.

"Matters of state never leave space for personal moments," Fringilla said, cutting her apple.

"Do you intend to rejoin The Lodge if Philippa decides to bring the sisterhood back together again?" Ciri asked.

"I don't suppose Nilfgaard wants me back," she shrugged. "Nor do I want to be back there. So yes, perhaps. Unless I find a better place to be."

"Was The Lodge a good place to be? Back in the day?"

"It was complicated. We were supposed to be equals, but we hardly were. And all the striving for power and influence is a rather tiring endeavor. However, having it all aids a lot in life. We all love a good life, and nothing comes without its price."

Ciri nodded, mute in thought for a while as she helped herself to a few more mouthfuls.

"Are you one of the ones who don't like Yennefer?"

Fringilla chuckled softly. "We were rivals at Sodden. My spell blinded her. I suppose it doesn't qualify as friendly. We've always been on opposite sides when it came to picking such. But personally, I don't despise her, if that's what you want to know."

"You were once close to Emhyr? Knew him, I mean?"

"One would think that. However, he's not the one to let anyone closer than necessary for giving orders."

That was disappointing. It would have been nice to have someone who could tell Ciri of Emhyr's personality and quirks.

"What is he like as a leader? Fair? Or a bastard through and through?"

Fringilla snickered. "I haven't met many people who would be a bastard through and through. Emhyr is a talented conqueror and politician, but it has little to do with a good or bad personality. He guards his personal feelings rather well for a mortal. When he's upset with how his orders were carried out - he's not shy in expressing it."

That didn't really tell Ciri anything that she didn't know, either. Though she couldn't fault Fringilla for that. If Emhyr was as impenetrable as she said, maybe there was no one who truly knew him.

"Is that why you became his prisoner?"

"He doesn't appreciate any side activity that doesn't include his orders and affairs."

"So it's not that he doesn't like sorceresses then," Ciri mused. "I have heard rumors he is quite fond of elves. That he admires them. So perhaps, when it comes to equality between the races, he is not as bad as Radovid in that regard."

"Oh, he's very fond if elves and all their culture and science. He also loves to have significant numbers of powerful mages at his disposal. But it all serves rather selfish purposes of expanding his own power and influence." She poured herself more tea. "If we have to compare to Radovid - I suppose he would be a slightly lesser evil where non-humans are concerned."

Yennefer took her time applying her makeup, twisting her curls to give them renewed bounce before making her way downstairs. She paused briefly in her descent when she saw Ciri and Fringilla locked in what seemed to be a serious conversation. Her last encounter with the rival sorceress still pricked at her.

"That's something," Ciri muttered. It didn't make her feel much better about being related to the emperor, but it was a small comfort.

She saw Yennefer on the stairs and gestured her over.

"Come eat, mother."

Yennefer moved over to the table and sat down beside Ciri. She wasn't eager to fall into whatever they were discussing.

"You look tired, Yennefer," Fringilla remarked after a quick look at the sorceress. "Is that bank matter so exhausting on you?"

Yennefer dared an irritated look at the woman. She'd just applied every coal and cream and that was the second time in as many days that Fringilla had commented on her exhaustion.

"Not at all. Just concerned about the Wild Hunt and their next plan of attack."

"Odd, considering our good old Dijkstra threat is much more prominent for now," Fringilla reacted. "I would've ordered some oysters if I were you, if you know what I mean. A very nice delicacy to allow oneself when manacles and cells loom on the horizon." She gave Yennefer a wink and stood from the table, strolling away up the stairs.

Yennefer shadowed the woman with her eyes, not bothering to reply since she hadn't stayed to listen. If she took Fringilla's advice and thought to run, then she'd look infinitely more guilty.

When they were alone, she helped herself to something from Ciri's plate.

"I think you should go help Kain with his contract."

Ciri was frowning. The comment about the oyster had gone straight over her head.

She eyed Yennefer. "Help Kain? Why?"

"He almost died recently. I'd have assumed that, with Geralt here trying to help us sort out the banking issue, you'd want to make sure he's well."

Ciri narrowed her eyes. "Stop trying to send me away, Yennefer. I don't like it."

"I would never dream of doing that, if I didn't know you'd come back," Yennefer stated, smiling softly, helping herself to a tomato off Ciri's plate. "Geralt's here with me, doing everything he can, if he wasn't, he'd be with Kain. Aren't you concerned about him?"

"No. He can take care of himself," Ciri said, sipping from her mug.

"We all have the ability to care for ourselves, we've demonstrated more times than one could count, but it doesn't mean he doesn't need the assistance. I would have thought you'd be eager to do so. Has something happened between you two?"

"He doesn't want me to come, Yennefer. If he wanted to be anywhere near me, he would have come with Geralt. Not suddenly taken on a contract as though he is a witcher again."

"He never stopped being a Witcher. They never do. Can you really expect him to overlook a village that might be in trouble?"

Ciri shrugged. "Can we talk about something else? Like what we are going to do if Geralt can't convince Dijkstra of your innocence?"

"If Geralt fails, then I'll take Fringilla's advice and run. What else is there possibly to do?"

"War," Ciri mused. "But I don't like our chances."

"Neither do I. However, there is nothing to do about it and all we can do is wait. Which is why I proposed you might desire to go off on an adventure and help your friend keep his head."

"It is not what I desire. So drop it." Ciri drained her mug and rose to her feet. "I am going out to get some air."

Yennefer sighed with a hint of frustration as Ciri got up and left, helping herself to the last tray of fried eggs, bacon, and grilled vegetables. They were a little cold but she didn't mind, contented to eat in silence.

Ciri left the inn in her wake and made for the streets. They still weren't terribly crowded, except that there appeared to be guards posted around every corner. Not many of them bothered ushering the people of Novigrad back into their homes like they had the day before, but they kept a shrewd gaze on those few who passed. Whether they were clad in fineries and escorted by guards of their own, or hauling barrels in wheelbarrows, it didn't much matter.

Ciri was annoyed. And it was all Kain's doing. Why did the image of him insist on staying in her mind? And why was it always accompanied by butterflies in her stomach and a fluttering heart?

Why wouldn't her mind protect itself from harm now it had been made clear Kain did not reciprocate Ciri's feelings? Why did the useless feelings continue to linger? How dare he take up so much space in Ciri's heart?

Yennefer's probing had not made the situation better. Ciri could not imagine opening up about this, to admit how the boy she had fought so hard for had rejected her, humiliated her. She did not even want to speak the words aloud. It would hurt more then. It would be real.

She walked with her arms folded across her chest and a deep scowl on her face. No one dared approach her, and without delay in her journey, before she knew it Ciri had reached The Kingfisher Inn. She could already hear the music coming from inside. Someone was playing the lute, or some other string instrument Ciri had never bothered to acquaint herself with. It did not matter. The music was cheerful and welcome.

Ciri entered the inn. Just as it had been out in the streets, the establishment was not crowded. It was too early for that. Likely to have just opened. But a few people sat at the tables in front of the stage, nursing their cups of mead. Those who had someone to talk to did so quietly. No one paid Ciri any mind. She took a seat by the colored stained windows and reveled in the brief solitude.

At that moment she was just a girl like all others, come to enjoy the music.