Chapter 2: An Eye For An Eye

At approximately 9pm the citizens of White Orchard were treated to the strange sight of a young woman stumbling into the village, looking unlike anyone from the Northern Realm. The woman, short by normal standards, barely tall enough to ride a horse, wore strange clothing with some of her thighs indecently exposed. The village men had hollered and catcalled the young lady, earning them fierce glares from tired brown eyes hidden behind long straight raven locks, and vulgar retorts, in only what they could describe as a heavy Rivian accent.

They'd called her a Rivian, much to Jazz's amusement, when she had a view choice words to being spoken to like she was some common whore. An American accent, evidently, was the equivalent of a Rivian accent. Not that she was complaining, it was best that she didn't sound like someone from the Northern Realms, better yet that word be spread that she was of the same make as the White Wolf. Though as she stumbled into the inn at White Orchard, Jazz seemed to take back that thought. Rivians were notorious on the Continent for being a people of thieves, marauders, and bandits. One did not want to be looked upon in distrust while in the Northern Realms, it was suicide if you didn't have a way to defend yourself.

Still, the night was long, and Jazz was starving. It wouldn't hurt to rest in White Orchard for a little while as she planned. Despite the staring, Jazz made her way through the small village and into the inn, sitting at the empty table near the back and waiting for the innkeeper to come serve her. As she sat waiting, Jazz fell into deep thought. She couldn't stay on the Continent, it was too dangerous a life to live.

Who can I trust? Jazz sat in thought, pointedly ignoring the glower directed at her from the table of villagers behind her. Not many people. Geralt, Ciri, and Vesemir can be trusted without a doubt. But it's a matter of if I can get to either of them. And judging from the state of decay on that battlefield, I'd say that that battle was fairly recent, but didn't happen a few days ago.

Straightening up, Jazz waved the innkeeper over, taking careful note that the woman's face was battered around the mouth and nose area. "Excuse me, ma'am? How much is it to rent a room?"

The woman, Elsa, immediately crossed her arms and shook her head. "Got food and drink, but no rooms for you."

Startled, Jazz swept her gaze around the inn. All around her were men, women, and children eyeing her like she was an unwelcomed guest. A freak. A monster. Ah. I see. So this is how they wanted to play. Should aim to be diplomatic. Avoid a confrontation. Calmly, with an unimpressed expression, Jazz raised her hands in a surrendering gesture. "Alrighty then. I won't argue. In that case, I'd like to pay for some food and water." As she said that, Jazz dug into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a pouch of crowns, dropping it with a clink onto the wooden tavern table.

"80 crowns." Elsa stated, head upturned, confidant with how the people in the inn backed her up.

80 crowns?! The bitch is charging more than she would normally! Jazz's eyes narrowed at her displeasure. To be treated like this because of the way she spoke… absolutely ridiculous. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"

"Only Rivians and mutant freaks." Jazz heard the cook spit out, slamming a butcher knife onto the table threateningly.

Standing up, Jazz snatched her coin purse off the table and shoved it back into her coat. If she could cast spells or wield a sword, she would have broken a good arrangement of things within the inn, not excluding bones. But, as she had no way of fighting back, Jazz merely walked slowly towards the door, making sure to keep her front facing the inn's inhabitants before she kicked the door open behind her and left, fast walking down the road until she was out of the inn's sight and hidden by shadow.

Safely hidden, Jazz gave a frustrated kick at a rock and huffed in anger, pacing in a small line. "Goddamn it!"

She'd never been treated in such a poor manner, and it frustrated Jazz. To think that this was how Witchers were treated, and to experience it herself. Geralt would have moved on, left the town without caring. But Jazz didn't have the benefit of nearly 60 years of being discriminated against, of being a seasoned warrior. She was only 21 years of age and had been comfortable for her entire young life. So, she did what her feelings told her to do… she lashed out. If they were going to treat her like a monster, then she would act like a monster. What she did then, Jazz wasn't proud of it, nor was she ashamed of it.

Under the cover of night, Jazz snuck into the stables outside the inn. When none of the horses made a sound, Jazz tentatively reached out and stroked a snout before searching through the saddlebags, finding an adequate supply of food and water for a few days as well as a sword and map. Once satisfied with the supplies, going so far as to take from other saddles, Jazz clambered onto a saddle with a little bit of trouble. Spurring the horse in a poor mimic of what she'd seen Geralt do, Jazz pulled on her coat's hood and directed her stolen steed out of the stables, waking the sleeping stable hand from his slumber as she sped away from White Orchard.

Not wanting to get lost in the dark, Jazz looked towards the sky to navigate her way north, keeping her stolen steed on the main roads leading towards Vizima.

"I need a way home." Jazz mumbled to her steed, who galloped on without much prompting from her. The thing was, Jazz knew that there was a way home to her world. With Ciri being the Lady of Worlds, she'd traveled to Jazz's world once before… and brought upon the world the Catriona Plague, which Jazz knew as the bubonic plague. Perhaps, when Ciri gains control of her powers, she could bring Jazz back to her time and world. But before that could happen, Jazz realized, she'd have to survive until Eredin was defeated.

Using her brain, Jazz could only frown at how long she would have to survive and wait. "From the state of that wench, Elsa, I'd wager that Geralt left White Orchard only a few days ago." The famished woman led her horse into a gentle trot, though careful to keep vigilant of any threat. "Could probably beat Geralt to the Bloody Baron's castle, but I don't think I could last so long on horseback."

"I only have a few options." Jazz thought aloud, her eyes long since gotten used to the darkness around her. "One, stop in a small town to purchase supplies with the limited crowns that I have and risk the angry villagers from White Orchard finding me. Two, follow the road northeast until I hit Vizima, where I'll be safe from anyone from White Orchard and where I might have a better chance at purchasing supplies because I have a variety of currency, but I'll waste a day. Or three, ride on until I hit Crow's Perch, taking breaks every now and then to rest."

Jazz's steed snorted before picking up into a gallop, and the young woman smirked, "Yeah, I know, a really easy decision. Not even worth pondering over." In her lap lay a map, which she unfolded in the moonlight. "Straight to Crow's Perch it is."