Ciri couldn't stop pacing. The uncertainty of… everything was driving her insane. Yennefer had left on some errand – where to and what for was a mystery, though Ciri had her suspicions.

She halted. That had been two days ago, with no rumor or message to provide insight to the current situation. In frustration, she grabbed a nearby cushion from a lounger and threw it across the room. It caught on the edge of a stack of books, sending them toppling to the floor.

They continue to treat her like a child; Yennefer and Geralt both. They try to protect her from the world despite how much she has grown, when even now she could be helping. Royal duties be damned!

She resumed her brisk steps, each footfall muffled by the lush carpets of her personal chambers, the dancing candlelight mimicking her impatience.

Given how agitated Ciri was, she was lucky to not have missed the minute vibrations from her cat-headed medallion. But as it was, she did notice, and her attention was drawn to the crimson mist coming under the door. Quickly covering the distance to her ridiculously large four-poster bed, she drew a blade hidden at the foot of one of the posts. It wasn't her preferred weapon, the thin steel was barely a foot long, but in the case of a sudden ambush, it would suffice.

She turned to the mist rising from the floor and noticed its shape forming something vaguely human. Her blade went to where she suspected its throat was and tensed, ready to push the dagger into solidifying flesh.

It was a good thing, though, that she took a moment to see who had invaded her quarters, as the alternative would have been embarrassing to both parties.

"Regis!" Exclaimed Ciri, shocked to see the high vampire. Geralt had mentioned that Regis was still alive and again kicking, but to see him again was still a surprise.

Regis stiffened, his arms raised in mock surrender. Despite the steel at his pale throat, the grey-haired vampire smiled thinly. "Yes, well, I suppose I had this coming. I suspect it would have been better to knock first… I shall remember that for next time."

"I could have killed you…" Ciri said lowering the blade.

The vampiric barber-surgeon adjusted the satchel strap strung across his chest and spared a glance to the short dagger Ciri had held to his neck. "I severely doubt it. It would have been a bit of a nuisance, though."

"A blade through your throat is only a nuisance?" asked Ciri incredulously, as she sheathed the steel back into the bedpost.

"At best," He shrugged, "although, I do commend the effort."

Somewhat unamused, Ciri crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow in the vampire's direction. "Why do I feel you're patronizing me?"

"My apologies. Had I not been what I am, that would have a most effective way to deal with the intrusion, though perhaps a little messy for your carpets." Regis added, seemingly pondering a possible alternative that would spare the lavish floor coverings.

Ciri rolled her eyes. The carpets would have been the least of her concern. "I suspect you didn't come here to test my assassin-stopping abilities."

"No. I was sent by way of a letter from the Lady Yennefer. She requested my presence at the palace, though I surmise she is here no longer."

"When did you get this letter?"

"Three days ago, I believe." Regis answered, tapping an unusually sharp fingernail thoughtfully against his shaven chin. "I would have been here earlier, but I had a few things to wrap up first."

"Did she specify why she wanted you here?"

"She did."

When no further elaboration came, Ciri realized she would have to push a little harder if she wanted answers. "Anything you can share?"

"Hmmm?" The barber-surgeon fidgeted once more with his satchel strap. "Ah, well her message indicated that I was to watch over you until her return. I felt it necessary to inform you of as much, seeing as I am going to be a temporary guest for however long… hence my appearance before you now." He rocked back on his heels slightly, his hands still firmly wrapped around the strap across his chest.

"Yennefer's return? Does that mean you know where she went?"

"I'm afraid that tidbit of information may undermine Yennefer's insistence upon my discretion."

"But you do know where she went?"

"Yes, I do believe I have a vague understanding of where she could have gone in such a hurry. The crows have informed me of as much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That, I'm not supposed to tell you."

"What if I find out where she is on my own?"

"I was only tasked with your protection. Should you feel the need to act upon such information, I will continue to do so."

"And if I just happen to leave…"

"Then I must follow. Though, as you are an Empress, I strongly advise against such recklessness. I believe your advisors would agree with me."

"Bah, those wrinkly old codgers can run the place while I'm gone. It wouldn't be the first time I've snuck out." She said, flashing Regis a mischievous grin.

"Since I can't convince you otherwise; how do you see yourself escaping? The halls are quiet this time of night, though we'd best be careful of patrolling guards. I doubt they're aware of my guest status as of yet." He paused, seeing that Ciri didn't appear at all interested at his suggestion. "The window could be another; I saw some good handholds that could be of use…"

"Not the hallway, and definitely not the window. I've got something better."

"Better?"

Ciri slipped an arm around the vampire's and gave it a few reassuring pats with her other. "Much better."

And with that, the pair were gone; whisked away in a blink of swirling blue light.


After being somewhat forcefully dragged to one of the Chameleon's private second-floor rooms - leaving the rest of his party at the cabaret's entrance - Geralt explained everything he could to Yennefer: from the fight with the mysterious elf to his most recent misadventure.

The sorceress sat - quiet and attentive - as he finished. She mulled a few things over in her mind, casting short glances to his hair and eyes, and took another sip from the glass of red wine set out on the round table between them. Without saying a word, she grabbed his forearm and pulled the glove from his hand, revealing the magic brand encircling his wrist. Yennefer held his hand, hers soft and delicate, and turned it slowly to analyze the tingling runes that were burned into his flesh.

"These marks shouldn't have done this, at least not on their own." She sighed. "Was there something else? Something that could have left you weakened… a potion, or…" Her eyes strayed to the blades across his back, evident over his shoulder. "Geralt, let me see your swords. You said you had to replace them…"

"Only the steel one."

"Yes, yes. Just let me see them."

He shrugged, not seeing the harm in following her request. Geralt had removed his baldric - and the attached blades - and laid them across the wooden table.

The raven-haired sorceress tentatively reached first for the silver sword, Aerondight, shushing Geralt with a single finger to her lips when he tried to interject.

She slipped the blade free of its sheath, and inspected the runes that were expertly carved into its polished surface. While the marks fascinated her, from the small downwards turn of her lip it was clear that wasn't what she was looking for. When their eyes met, he raised his brows in an 'I told you so' manner; which Yennefer pointedly ignored as she slid the sword back into its sheath.

Next, she went for his steel sword. The raven-haired sorceress hissed subtly as she drew the sabre an inch and then quickly slammed it back into its wrapping. She looked up at Geralt, muttered a short curse under her breath, and carefully drew the enchanted steel again.

Not wanting to deal with Iris' double-edged enchantment for long, her violet eyes danced swiftly over the blade's etchings. Several runes responded to a few spoken words with an eerie red glow, and her face took on an expression of mild disgust. She sheathed it swiftly.

"Only with your luck…" Yennefer griped, resting her fingers against one temple. "The good news is that this," she briefly gestured over Geralt's current appearance, "isn't permanent."

"What's the cause?"

"A combination of things really. First, is that damned blade of yours… the idiotic thing draws on the life energy of its user. While barbaric, a rest or two between uses would normally be enough to replenish any energy lost in its use. Unfortunately, the runes on your wrist are inhibiting the ability to recuperate the lost energy…" Once again, she took his hand in hers. "I imagine the original set took your mutations into account. The marks that remain, don't. They're no longer exclusively targeting Cregennan's mutations; they're suppressing your witcher ones as well."

"Ah, I had not thought of that… Perhaps next time you could allow me a look? I've always had a fondness for enchanted blades. "

"How do I fix it?" Geralt asked, pulling back his hand and making no acknowledgement of Cregennan's comment.

"It's not something that can easily be 'fixed'. There's strict preparation. It could take days, weeks even before I would be ready enough to attempt such a thing."

"I don't have weeks, Yen. Couldn't Keira help? Triss?"

"Geralt. My estimate was including the other sorceresses. As flattering as your faith in my abilities is, a few days is the earliest estimate I can give you."

"Then we're done here. As soon as I find where Dandelion stored my trunk, I'm leaving." Geralt stood, the stool he sat upon scraping the floor.

Silence fell between the two. When no one spoke, Geralt moved towards the door, first gathering up his swords and glove.

"It's where it's always been, by the entrance." Yennefer relented, but her eyes bore holes into his back. "The key is under the loose floorboard behind the bar."

"Mmm." He nodded.

"Geralt."

"Yes?"

"After you've cleaned up, will you reconsider waiting?"

Cregennan wasn't about to go away, and added his own agreement. "We could hide for a while… Your current appearance is unknown to our enemies…"

Geralt paused, turning to catch Yennefer's imploring expression to stay; and almost giving in to it.

"You are weak. Even more so now… take the chance to recuperate."

"Can't risk it," said Geralt eventually. Cregennan was right was right about one thing. He couldn't protect them as he is now.

With a shake of her head, Yennefer turned to her wine goblet and took another sip. "So you mentioned."

XxxxX

The chest was as he left it: full of miscellaneous trophies, junk, and the occasional bottle of vintage wine. At the very bottom was his leather armor from Kaer Morhen; dusty, but still serviceable, and no worse off from its time in storage.

He wandered back upstairs, away from prying eyes, and shed his bloodied jerkin, replacing it with the Kaer Morhen armor. It chafed in places he didn't remember and somehow didn't feel as durable, but seeing as he had no alternative it would have to do; at least until he found time to clean the other.

With his bloody armor tucked under an arm he headed to the ground floor, barely casting a glance at Lambert and Olgierd sharing a pint.

Olgierd was the first to catch sight of him. "Geralt!" He bellowed over the general clamor. "Where you off to?"

"Out."

"I can see that much." Olgierd said, no longer shouting as he drew closer. The once-immortal blocked Geralt's way, intentionally placing himself in way of the exit. "Weren't the whole point of this little journey to meet up with that sorceress lass of yours. Seems a tad odd to be leaving so soon."

"Agreed." Came Cregennan's unneeded input.

The corner of Geralt's lip twitched.

Olgierd crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight side-to-side. "Let me guess? She couldn't help you, at least not right away."

"Your point?"

"My point Geralt, is whatever is going on with you, you seem quite opposed to staying in one place long. One might even say you're running away from something."

The last remark drew a reaction. Geralt's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer.

Unfazed, Olgierd spoke. "Without those cat eyes of yours, you aren't nearly as intimidating as you think you are."

"Move Olgierd."

"Why Geralt?"

"You're in my way."

Olgierd tsked. "What are you so afraid of that you can't trust us?"

No words were exchanged as Geralt pushed Olgierd aside, and continued towards the cabaret's exit. The door opened, and Geralt walked outside.

"It seems Adelia isn't the only stubborn one." He heard Olgierd grumble after him.


Regis and Ciri appeared behind the Chameleon, their unexpected arrival startling a few stray dogs that were fighting over the prior-day's leftovers.

"Whooph." Breathed Regis, feeling mildly green. "I believe that will be enough for one day. I don't think I can handle much more."

"But it's only been the fourth place we've looked." Insisted Ciri, though she too was beginning to feel exhausted.

The vampire chuckled at her enthusiasm. "And we've already covered more ground in a day then many would hope to see in their lifetime. I know you're eager to find Yennefer, but you shan't do it falling ov-" The words stopped in his throat, as Ciri disappeared towards the cabaret's entrance. He readjusted his satchel and chased after her, muttering something about reckless children.

XxxxX

As he rounded the corner, he spied a few interesting things. One being Geralt, unmistakable from his scent - albeit the smell strongly masked by bear blood and something the high vampire couldn't quite place - now sporting nearly crimson hair. The second being Yennefer herself, hands on hips simultaneously scolding Ciri and yelling at said witcher. And topping things off, another witcher, mug of beer in one hand and a comely blond woman reeking of magic wrapped in the other.

Not sure how to approach the situation, his centuries of experience hadn't quite seen such a bizarre set of circumstances, Regis decidedly approached the group slowly, cleared his throat, and waited to be acknowledged.

Yennefer was the first. "And you!" She admonished the vampire. "You were supposed to watch her!"

"I did and I continue to do so. If it were your intentions that I keep her to the palace grounds, then you should have instructed me to do so." Regis asserted calmly.

"… And now you get Regis involved." Geralt snarled, untying his horse's reins from a post.

Yennefer's eyes snapped back to the witcher. "Only because you left me no choice."

"You say that like this is all my fault."

"If you weren't so damn prideful…"

"Then what Yen? This could all have been avoided?" In one smooth motion, Geralt swung himself into the saddle. He tugged on the reins turning his reluctant horse away from the cabaret, and clicked his tongue. "Let's go Ro-"

The witcher spun in his seat, a momentary flash of orange surrounded his person. His uncharacteristically dark eyes met Yennefer's with a sense of betrayal. From her outstretched hand it is evident that she had tried to cast something on him. Something that had failed.

And poor Ciri, caught up in the middle of this complicated lover's spat. Regis typically wasn't one to interfere, but he currently was obligated to look after Ciri's well-being.

XxxxX

An instant later he was in front of Geralt's galloping horse, Regis' usual nondescript countenance changing to one of imposing supernatural prowess.

The horse - not wanting to have anything to do with the vampire's sudden and frightening appearance - reared, depositing her rider onto the stonework bridge. "Regis!" Geralt hollered, rapidly regaining his feet, hand already going for his sword.

That was all the vampire allowed the witcher - who smelled distinctly… human, his usual artificially-mixed scent missing.

The witcher hadn't even registered that Regis had moved behind him, Geralt's usual lightning fast reflexes a mere flicker of what they once were.

Perhaps… thought Regis.

Faster than human eyes could track, the barber-surgeon dug a hand into his satchel; his other going for the handkerchief tucked in his shirt's inner lining. A single movement later, the vampire doused the fabric with the anesthetic and held the strongly smelling square of linen over Geralt's nose and mouth.

Geralt bucked, trying to dislodge the vampire's hand from his face, an elbow wedging deep into Regis' gut. The vampire grunted, but held firm. It was only a matter of time before the witcher had to breath.

Again Geralt squirmed, his pinned arms trying vainly to pry himself from the barber-surgeon's vice-like grip. Finally, Regis heard a breath. The witcher's struggles slowed, eventually petering out completely.

Regis knew that dwale normally wouldn't work on the witcher, but as he hefted Geralt's limp body over his shoulder, it was clear that it had.

A crow landed along the bridge's wall and croaked its arrival to the vampire. As the black bird delivered its ill tidings, Regis' mood visibly darkened. It was as he had suspected. Geralt's pursuers had found them. If they were to be any help to the weakened witcher they would first have to get him out of Redania.

They needed to get him farther than a magpie could possibly travel… They needed to get him across the sea, and fast.


Author Notes


Dwale: an anesthetic potion used in medieval medicine, containing bile, opium, lettuce, bryony, and hemlock. Some sources seem to say it could have also been made out of belladonna (a.k.a. deadly nightshade).