They had been following the tracks that Elora had spotted for a while, quietly. At crossroads, the Witcher would hop off the carriage to inspect the tracks. Birds were singing as the sun rose. It was a beautiful morning, but that didn't lift their spirits in the least.

At one point, Floris raised his voice. "So you don't think they did the same to my girl?"

"No. It was easy for them to get the right stuff into each of our drinks. They put one poison in the ales, the other in Roos' cider. Probably just a mild soporific for her. I really doubt he wants to do her any harm, at least…" She fell quiet, unable to say the end of the sentence or take it back in its entirety.

Floris seemed to push away the thought quickly. "But they underestimated your… metabolism?"

"Yes. Alchemy is tricky. Some mixtures work great for us Witchers, apart from the toxicity, while not having any effect humans. Others won't affect us but kill even the stoutest dwarf. I must have been about to wake up when they came to check on me, so they knocked me out and tied me up. And they did a much better job with that than the poison." Elora managed a grin. "I had to scream for help. Haven't done that since I was a kid."

"You still are a kid." Floris teased her. "You could easily be my great-great-great-granddaughter, with many decades to spare. I was already quite old for a Quadroon when I met Melody."

"You don't look like it." Elora said, and meant it. She knew that Elves could only have children while they were fairly young, and had thus, wrongly, assumed that Floris wasn't much older than a hundred years or so. Perhaps it had to do with the mixed heritage. One could never be sure about it, since some half-elves or quadroons only lived as long as humans, some almost reached the Elves' longevity. And Witchers… they could live for a very long time, too, if they weren't massacred by superstitious mobs like at Kaer Morhen. That thought evoked a question, though. "But I could already be old, too. We age quite slowly."

"So I heard. But I also heard that you measure a Witcher's age in scars, and you…" Floris said. "Look! There's a hamlet ahead. That must be Ulrykstead."

As they came closer, they saw farmers starting their day's work. "I think we should ask around a bit. Perhaps someone knows something."

Floris agreed and started to ask the villagers on one side of the main road, while Elora took the other side. And indeed, they had heard the clamor of several loud-mouthed, armed men on a carriage while they were still in their houses, early in the morning. Apparently they had been in a hurry, but still had stopped for a while, though no one knew exactly what for. It seemed they had made a point to avoid the band altogether, but they were able to point her in the direction of where the noise had come from.

She walked around the last house. A large man was whetting his axe to chop a pile of wood. Several horses were grazing on a meadow. Elora greeted him. He looked up, and snorted. "I am looking for a carriage that came through. Did you see or hear anything?"

"No." He focused on his axe again.

"That's weird. I am sure it came by your house…"

"Listen. I didn't hear or see anything. I was still asleep a short while ago."

Elora sighed. She heard someone approach the house, it sounded like Floris' step. "No, YOU listen. I see the carriage's tracks in front of your house. And these horses look tired and hungry." She formed the Axii Sign. "I suggest you tell me where they went, otherwise I…"

"I won't tell you anything, except that you're a fucking Witch freak." So much for the Sign's success.

"You can choose. Deal with a fucking Witch freak, or the father of the girl who has been kidnapped by the people you're covering for." Elora paused for effect. "His only child, to be precise, from his wife who died long ago. So I suggest, if you only let them swap horses and sold them supplies, tell me what you know and we'll leave you be. And let you keep the coin."

The man looked over her shoulder, probably spotting Floris, Elora thought, because he began to speak. "Fuck. Alright. I did sell them supplies and swapped their horses. One of the two limped, so they were going very slowly. Didn't see no girl, but there was something covered by a blanket in the carriage. I overheard they were heading for the old watermill by the river to meet someone this afternoon."

"How many men?"

"Four."

"That mill. Tell me where it is."

"Doesn't your type have a map with you?"

"I know what mill he means, Eléanor." Floris said from behind her. "Let's go."

They rode for another hour, mostly remaining silent and caught up in their own thoughts, except for Floris filling her in on all details he remembered about the abandoned mill. It was about noon when they approached the last hill before their destination. They left the carriage out of sight and tied up the horses at a tree. Floris equipped his studded leather armor and took their backpack. "I don't want to make a big entrance. They probably won't expect anyone coming from the river, neither friend nor foe," Elora pondered their strategy.

"I will do what you think is best. I know how to fight, but it had only been duels for practice and testing weapons. I have no grasp of strategy. There never was need of it." Floris said with a sigh. "I only wish to have Roos back unharmed, and bring these men to justice, be it by law or by the sword."

Elora bit back her reply that she didn't really have that great of a grasp of strategy either.

There were a few trees by the riverside, obscuring the view to their advantage. Still under the influence of the Cat's Eye potion earlier, although it was fading, Elora squinted in the bright sunlight to make out details of the watermill and potential traps, ambushes or similar grievances. She saw one figure pacing to and fro.

As they came closer, Elora gestured Floris to fall back. She snuck up behind the mill. The wheel was not immersed into the water, so it was quite silent. The man who was patrolling the other side walked into her line of sight repeatedly, but did not even once look in her direction. He was muttering curses under his breath. Elora rejoiced as she saw a bale of hay nearby, even though she wondered what people always needed them for in places like this. When the guard vanished from her view the next time, she quickly stepped up to the corner and cast an Igni Sign at the hay. It caught fire immediately, which in turn caught the attention of the guard. He exclaimed a surprised curse and walked closer to inspect the supposed spontaneous combustion. When he bent forward, Elora jumped at him and knocked him out with the sword's pommel. The pommel's precious stone was preciously hard, and the mercenary collapsed into the burning bale. The Witcher quickly finished him off, then grabbed his feet and pulled him out of the fire. She waved at Floris, who walked up to her, while she imbibed a flask of Swallow, her staple regenerative potion. "Here is number one for justice by the sword," she said quietly, while turning him around to lie on his back. There was a fresh wound across his face. "That… was not me!"

Floris shrugged, but then grew pale. "Roos has her mother's dagger! I couldn't see it in the trunk earlier, but thought nothing of it. She must have taken it yesterday after you first spoke. I hope they didn't get back at her for that."

Elora shook her head. "They wouldn't dare. Look, there is only one carriage here, and they are still here, including a guard in front of the mill. If they had gotten paid, they would be much less alert, or even already be on their way to the brothel in Vizima. Thus, Roos is still here, too. And I think that cut was her getting back at them. Tough mademoiselle, she really is."

"I sure hope you are right." Floris said, but the worries carved deep lines into his face. Elora wanted them gone.

"Follow me. I might need assistance in there." she said and walked around the corner again.

She held Melody's sword in her right hand, and knocked at the door with her left. She heard a few steps, a bar was retracted. Then, a voice from inside said, slightly quivering, "Uh. Wait. Who are you and what do you want?"

Elora nodded at Floris, you managed to banish all the grief and his usual singsong as he spoke, providing quite a good imitation of the voice of the hooded man that she had described to him as best as she could. And she could do that well, because she loved listening to people's voices. "Don't try my patience, lad, I'm here for the girl, just as agreed. I got your orens, too."

They heard the key turn in the lock, and the door swung open. A young human stuck his face out to meet Elora's fist. He tumbled back, but managed to draw his sword. "We're under attack!" he yelled as Elora took a few steps towards him. She feinted a thrust to his unprotected stomach, as he tried to parry it, she grabbed his lower arm and drove the pointy pommel into his wrist. He yelped and dropped his weapon.

"I love that pommel!" she fluted, while showing the boy towards the door, into Floris' welcoming embrace. Bonds included.

Meanwhile, the two remaining henchmen had grabbed their weapons, one of them a sword, the other an axe, and headed her way from the main room. "You shouldn't have come here, bitch. We'll make short shrift of you!" one of them, he seemed to be in charge, said. "Antek, she's all yours!"

The one called Antek, a burly human with massive arms and hands, complied, walking towards her. "I can't wait to tie you up again, and since we got the time now, get warmed up for Vizima!" he said with a filthy grin and explicit gesture.

"I can give you a warm-up alright!" the Witcher hissed at him while signing an Igni. His clothes began to sear and he growled, trying to put out the flames.

The mercenary leader, he was left-handed, now also attacked Elora, but she evaded the blow and spun to his left side, slashing his sword arm, from the elbow up to his shoulder guards. He cursed at her, while also spinning around and bashing his shield into her torso, almost throwing her off balance. She still struggled for breath when he made his next move, and her parry was so sloppy that the tip of his blade dug into her chest piece, but it did not give way. She managed an Aard Sign, pushing him hard into the wall behind him. He barely remained on his feet, and looked disoriented for a few moments.

This gave her time to regain her breath, but Antek closed in on her again, his axe raised above his head. His leather armor was charred but not damaged significantly. He looked as mad as lecherous, neither were particularly helpful in a fight like this. He swung his axe at her with full force, but she rolled to the side, and it hit the other man's shield, splitting it in two. "You fucking idiot!" his fellow snarled, snapping out of his stupor. He tossed away the remains of his shield. Meanwhile, Floris had tied up the young lad and approached the band's leader.

Antek was struggling with his balance from the impact of his axe on said shield, which Elora instinctively took advantage of, severing his Achilles tendons in one long strike. He howled and fell over. She took the chance and glanced at Floris, who was doing fine against the mercenary leader. And looking fine, fiercely striking and skillfully parrying... but alas, no time! Antek had managed to roll over and sit up, once again swinging at her with his axe. He was immobilized, so she easily leapt out of harm's reach. She didn't, however, expect him to suddenly throw the axe at her. She ducked below it, barely, but by doing so, Antek was able to grab her hands and pull her down to the floor. About the same time, Floris took a hard strike to the chest and staggered.

Elora tried to wriggle free her hands, but Antek's grip was unyielding, and both her ankles still hurt from the earlier maltreatment. His breath was hot, and his grin had turned more malicious than before. "I can't feel my feet anymore, thanks to you, bitch. But I can still feel between my legs. Can you feel it, too?"

Antek's choice of words proved to be unwise, as it gave her an idea. The Witcher pushed herself up on one foot, and drove her other knee into where he could feel it. He squealed and cursed even before she followed up with a head-butt, which instantly and painfully reminded her of her blow to the head the night before. Antek, however, loosened the grip on her right hand just a bit, and she used the chance to free her hand and slit his throat before he recovered from the blow.

He went limp, and she lifted her head. Floris seemed fatigued, beads of sweat rolled down his face, mingled with a few drops of blood from a superficial scratch. Just as Elora had climbed to her feet, the band leader kicked Floris in the shins, and disarmed him with a swift move. Floris already stood with his back to the wall, and his attacker raised his sword for final blow. Elora speedily crossed the room and thrust her sword in his back. The man rattled his last breath, and dropped to the ground when Elora pulled out her blade.

Floris slumped down. "Thank you, again, Witcher. I told you I was old, but right now I feel ancient."

Elora smirked. "If you're not otherwise hurt, it will fade in a few days. Trust me, I've felt better, myself." She looked around the room. The oil lamps on the two walls had remained intact, but most pieces of furniture had not taken well to the fight; the crude bed was dashed with blood, one of the chairs had an axe stuck in it, the table on which the two men had played cards – guards' and criminals' most favorite game in… basically everywhere – was missing a leg.

On the table, as a stake in the game, was… "Melody's dagger!" Floris grabbed the blade. "But where is Roos?"

Elora finished her inspection of the room and found the closet in the very back, large enough to accommodate someone twice Roos' size. She went to open it, but it was locked.

"There, on the chain around his neck…" Floris said and walked towards the mercenary that had almost killed him. He pulled the key off the dead body and threw it to her. Elora unlocked the closet. Roos was asleep, tied up and gagged, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

"Roos!" Floris called out and picked up his daughter. Roos babbled something, but didn't wake.

Elora pulled the bloody cover from the bed, and Floris put his daughter on it. Elora cut the girl's ties and gag and felt forehead, pulse and breath. "She's fast asleep, nothing nasty like we got. She may wake up without remembering any of this." She gestured at the two dead bodies on the floor. "I think it's best we let her sleep it off."

"Yes. Seems you were right... He didn't lock that closet to keep her in, but to keep his men out." Floris said thoughtfully, while holding his daughter's hand. "I don't what I'd do if…" Elora saw a single tear trickle down his cheek.

Elora swallowed hard. "This… isn't over yet, Floris. I will get the one we left outside, then we'll wait for that bastard who is responsible for all of this."

She dragged the corpse into the mill, casually dropped it in front of the tied-up lad, who grew paler than before and trembled. "You don't want to do anything stupid, right?" she said, and he nodded vigorously.