A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

by Spike368

Sent out to gather the knowledge of the real world. A young scholar from the University of Oxenfurt finds a wounded Witcher on the steps to the inn where he was staying. So he starts gathering the material for his journals. Rated T for language I will be publishing this story on Royal Road /profile/349358

130. Chapter 130

(Content warning: Contains main characters listening to accounts of discovered victims of rape and murder. First hand descriptions of wounds. Also contains main character struggling with institutional and learned misogyny. Many characters use humour as a shield from unpleasant topics. Please don't hold it against them, or me.)

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him.

"He were tall. Standing on the edge of the rooftop as if it were nothing. Just standing there. Right on the point of the roof. He didn't sway, he didn't stagger. He just stood there. Solid as a fucking rock.

"I swear I'm telling the truth. I swear it sir.

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him

"He just stood there looking down at me and his handiwork. Sneering at me. You can tell after a while. If you live on the streets for long enough then you get a feel for people that sneer at you. Even when they aren't actually sneering, you can just tell that they are doing it anyway.

"Most people walk past you when you've got your hand out. Most just kind of hunch their shoulders and ignore you. Feeling guilty as they do. You kind of feel sorry for those folks because you know what they're thinking. They're thinking that it could be me sitting there on a blanket and begging for scraps. They're thinking that if they give to me then they should give to everyone and they can't afford it. Why this beggar and not that beggar.

"Then there are the people that stop, have a little chat, maybe pass over some food that they've bought from the stall or shop just down the way. Because they're worried that if they give us money that we'll just spend it on drink or fisstech. Which is not always unfair for certain people that live on the streets. They're the best sort really. You'd be astonished at just how much a small word can help out, even if you can't help with anything better.

"And there are the people that hand out the money. They range from someone sheepishly handing over a few coins to those people that magnanimously toss down a few shaved coppers and act as though we should be grateful for that.

"Which we are.

"But the sneerers. Those are the worst. They fall into all three camps of people. And sooner or later you get a sense for them. They look down at you and just kind of sneer. As though you are the lowest form of scum. Those are the people that, if I wasn't so desperate. I would spit in the hand that held out the coin.

"He sneered. He stood there on the rooftop, his face covered by sack-cloth and he sneered at me. I just knew it. He stood there, unmoving with a butcher's knife held at his side which was still dripping blood. One of those wide, weirdly curved fuckers that look so unpractical but when you see them used in the hands of an experienced and skilled butcher, it kind of makes you afraid.

"It was still dripping blood onto the roof next to him.

"I was so afraid that I was paralysed. I had fallen when I saw her lying there in the alley. That shit shouldn't happen to anyone and I knew her too. Lovely lass she was. Flower of the Night they call her. But I saw her there and I fell. I just fell. My legs had stopped working and I fell to the ground. I tried to crawl towards her but I couldn't move. I don't know why. I cursed myself for a coward and a fool but I still couldn't move. And I looked up to see the moon hanging in the sky.

"And then I saw him, standing there.

"He was tall I think, even if he was well above me. I think he was tall. He had shiny black boots on. The same as them Nilfgaardians wear when they're riding around but don't want to put armour on. Shiny black boots, almost up to his knees.

"I know a lot about boots. If you really want to tell whether a mark is rich or poor, look at his boots. They always forget the boots. Because you can't buy new boots and expect ot just walk around in them. Rich fuckers buy a new pair of boots and then keep them for an age. Just wearing the same boots over and over again. If you need to make money on the streets, look at the boots.

"He had spurs on. Silver highlights that seemed to catch and reflect the moonlight.

"Black trousers I think. But he had on this white tunic. I have no idea about how he must have kept it that white giving all the blood that was around the alleyway. But it was shining white in the evening.

"I couldn't see much detail because he had a large, voluminous coat on. A big black coat or cloak, the kind that any man would envy in the middle of the winter months. I would give a piece of myself for a coat like that. Full of pockets and folds to properly wrap yourself in. His mask was made of sack cloth with two holes cut out where the eyes were and where the rest of him was rich and fancy looking. The sack cloth was cheap and ragged.

"He had a hat on. A stupid, large, impractical hat. Like a tube on top of his head and he Carried a cane as well as the horrible Butcher's knife. A cane with a handle.

"But the thing that really caught at me. The thing that chilled my blood right down to the bone. The thing that I can't stop hearing. The thing that echoes through my skull even as I lay down to try and get to sleep.

"He laughed at me. He looked down from his position on high and I wasn't enough to flee from. I was barely even enough to notice. I had seen what he had done. The horror that he had made out of Nightflower. And he didn't care. He just didn't care. The sheer disdain that he felt for me, the utter lack of worry or concern.

"And he laughed. He laughed so hard that he could barely keep his balance.

"And I knew. I knew what had happened. I lay there in the filth and the muck. I lay there in the blood and the offal and the piss and the shit that had been torn out of the body of a good woman. I lay there with the tears running down my face, paralysed with terror and I knew, right down to the soles of my shoes.

"Jack has returned."

It turns out that Skellige is not the only place on the continent with a rich storytelling tradition. Toussaint is very similar but where Skellige is a place of epics and poems. Of storms and omens and dark deeds performed in shadow and ice. Toussaint is very different.

Toussaint is a place of heroes and villains. There is darkness there, and deeds that would, frankly, cause more than one tale teller of Skellige blanche. But it is all done with a sheen of heroism. A Tale of Toussaint is primarily different due to what comes at the end. In Toussaint there is a truth that is not really found anywhere else. That truth is that Good will always win out in the end. Therefore, to make the triumph of good that much more profound, the darkness before it needs to be even darker.

Now I would be the first person to admit that Good and Evil are subject to the interpretation of the onlooker. One person's hero is another person's villain and I would never claim that that wouldn't be the case. The same with concepts of right and wrong where right is, too often, defined as whatever the whim of the ruling figure is rather than those truths that we take as being evident.

Such as "Murder is bad," and things like it.

But if you sit and listen to tales being told in Toussaint you would slowly come to a different conclusion. Toussaint is a place of right and wrong, good and evil. Where heroes wear shining armour with bright colours and villains wear black, crimson, or otherwise dark colours with armour that is not properly maintained and has spots of rust on it in order to signify the villains greed and laziness.

Now I know that some of you realise that this, as a system, is abusable by people. By Sir Raoul "The White" not least. And others such as Sir Gregoire, who do not care about such things, can often find themselves in the position of a villain due to the fact that they would rather put their money in proper protection rather than in shiny paintwork or ornamentation.

But in that moment where the minstrel sits down on his stool on the raised stage area and the spell descends over the crowd. Then men are handsome, golden haired heroes, or unshaven but good hearted ruffians. Women are beautiful, demure and kind or the proverbial whore with the heart of gold. Villains are greasy, pale and wear dull black clothing or armour(shiny Nilfgaardian black with symbols of the Golden sun about the place seem to be exempt from this rule. Don't ask me why. I don't make the rules, I just comment on them.).

Rulers are always wise, deceived or under some kind of spell, Wizards always have long white beards and a twinkle in their eyes. Sorcerers (which are different for some unknowable reason) are sinister, urbane people who sometimes turn out to be working on the side of right for their own purposes. The older mentor, or guardian, figure of the protagonist always dies in order to buy time for the protagonist to escape. The chief advisor of the ruler is always untrustworthy while also lusting after the rulers daughter who is young, naive and beautiful, whether male or female.

And no matter what else happens. No matter how dark it gets, no matter how awful the villain's deeds. No matter the savagery of the monster or how awful the things are that happen to the character in question. The protagonist always gets the love interest, the Duchy is always saved and there is always, always rejoicing.

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him"

I will admit to having got over this kind of storytelling at about the age of nine. The part of me that was the historian was always wondering how the "rejoicing" was paid for. I always considered why the ruler would be happy with their daughter...

Or son. The dynamic of the rich child and the peasant born child meeting and falling in love was not always a poor boy and rich girl. I found that it often went the other way as well.

… marrying the street urchin of dubious birth when the invading armies could easily be bought off with a quick political marriage.

My tutor used to laugh at this I remember. It was the first time that I was ever told that I might make for a good historian. It was also the first time that I remember being told about literary theory and the prospect of allowing the reader, or listener, to make their own mind up about what happens after the story was over.

I didn't agree. I suppose that part of the problem was that I didn't want to stop spending time with the characters that I had fallen in love with.

But the spell, the magic of a Bard. Whether you call them a Balladeer, a songsmith, a poet, a story teller or a minstrel. That spell that happens when people pull over stools and chairs and gather round. With a drink in their hands and piece of food nearby. Where old people become young again and children sit with their eyes open and mouth agape in the smoky atmosphere of the tavern. The minstrel spends a little bit too long tuning

their harp, Lyre or Lute in order to prolong the anticipation.

That spell, is more profound in Toussaint than anywhere else. In Skellige, the respect that people there pay towards a Skald is enforced by laws. Tied up in sacrosanct traditions that possibly predate the very society of the isles itself. But in Toussaint, the only reason to stop and listen is because you want to hear what the person is going to say next.

Why is it different in Toussaint? Why is it so important that people believe that the good guys win and bad guys always lose? I don't know but I do have some theories.

The first theory is that, on the surface, Toussaint is quite a splendid place to be. But just under the surface, life can be quite hard there. It involves lots of hard work under hot son during the day with cold and clear nights. When it rains people can't afford to take shelter. They need to be out there making the best of what they can.

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him,"

People are rarely poor in Toussaint, certainly, the beggars and the homeless live better than in any other place in the North with Soup kitchens and hospices around the place. Charity and Mercy being among the Knightly virtues after all. But that doesn't mean that life is any the less hard and even if you are poor or dispossessed then it is often down to your own mistakes rather than anything else. And the society is built on people having second chances. But that relative wealth is bought at the cost of very hard work. No-one is under any illusions. Toussaint lives and dies on it's wine industry. If that fails then they are all perfectly aware that the entire thing falls apart. Work hard and play hard is a way of life for the people of Toussaint.

So people need to have something to believe in. They need to believe that it is possible, however unlikely, that some dashing knight or beautiful lady is going to turn up and rescue them from the life of poverty. It's escapism at it's purest. I suspect that the truth is that the people of Toussaint know that this is the case. But in order for Toussaint to work, it's as though every man, woman and child in Toussaint is operating according to some kind of... unwritten rule. A law really, that believes that these fantasies are true.

The other reason is far darker and less pleasant. I stress that I don't know if this is true but it is one of those possibilities that I know to be perfectly possible. What if... What if the nobility know all of this. So they exercise and encourage these stories to keep people under control. What if they tell everyone that it's perfectly possible for the peasant farmer or street urchin to be taken in by a wealthy family, meet, fall in love with and eventually marry some hopelessly remote object of desire. What if the nobility know this and make sure that the workers and the farmers continue to do what they do in order to continue the dream that one day, they can make the leap. The one from the other.

Maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe.

Another possibility is that Toussaint has certainly got more than it's fair share of monsters. Insectoids abound. As well as the more bestial Vampires you can even find such rarities as Slyzards on the heights. And that is not including the less magical monsters. Big cats roam the countryside as well as boar that would cheerfully eat the Boars of Redania and give your average mountain bear a run for it's money. There are, the same as anywhere, an over abundance of curses and wraiths so Werewolves, barghests and the like are not uncommon.

And lest we forget. Toussaint was a Kingdom, now a Duchy, that was carved from lawlessness by the Knights Errant. Carved from horror at the edge of sword blades. Is it any wonder that they prefer to imagine those old bandits as inhuman monsters and those early knights as shining paragons of virtue who's virtue is reflected in the sheen of their armour?

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him,"

This is a topic to be studied by people other than myself. It would take wiser people tha I in order to be able to come up with that. But that's not what I'm here to discuss.

What I was talking about before I got distracted was that Storytelling is part of the blood of Toussaint. More so than the wine that they produce even. The story's of the place are what keep it going and make it into the world that it is. I suspect, now, that there are many reasons why it's called "The Fairytale Kingdom" and this is not the least of it. If you will forgive me getting poestic for just a moment, then it is the place where Fairytales are born.

And whether or not I like it, there is a new villain in the mix now. A new figure of awe and terror that people whispered about in the darkness. A new terror that parents would terrify their children into sleep with. In the South, they tell the tales of the Schattenmann of the Black Forest that cuts off the fingers and toes of small children that do not stay in bed when they are told. In the North, they are told of the Witch man and the Wild Hunt that will chase them in doors while more recently, the dirty and unclean wizards and Witches that will steal proper, flame fearing children from their beds.

That villain is Jack.

"I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him,"

All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I stood in the cells of the Dock Guardhouse and looked down at the frail, pitiable creature in front of me. There had been, or so the Knights believed, four victims of Jack so far and it had been this man that had been the primary witness of the third attack. He was a shrivelled up wretch of a man, gap toothed, hairy, unkempt, ragged, wild haired and obviously starving. He was not injured that I could see, but he was also, completely terrified.

He was kept in the cells when I got there and we had to go down there in order to check on him as the guards didn't dare bring him up to the surface in order to talk to him.

He was also exhausted.

"I sore 'im I did. I diiid. I sore 'im" Was just an example of his speech and as close to an example of his voice as I can muster. He whispered that phrase. Over and over again as he was hunched over on a stool that some guardsman had provided for him. He was all hunched over as though he was desperately trying to protect himself from something. Hands clasped together as though they guarded something precious.

I have no idea what that something was, but his entire figure suggested that it was something of incredible worth. The Sergeant of the Watch-house was a Toussaint man through and through and after he had told us that the man's hands were empty. His romantic soul shone through and he told us that the man was desperately holding onto his integrity. As though it was something that could be guarded and looked out for.

I was a little heartbroken by him if I'm honest. It was a bit of a wake up call to me. I could so easily see myself in his position. So very easily and I could, just as easily, see myself there at the end of a long road. If I ran away from everyone and took to alcohol in an effort to dull the pain that was my constant companion. Not the physical pain although that was a factor. But the pain of knowing that I had failed so utterly and so spectacularly.

I'm not going to argue the nature of my failure now in my search for Francesca. I know that there was nothing that I could have done and there are plenty of people around who can reinforce that for me if I am not strong enough to do that for myself. But this man... He was the kind of man that I could see myself becoming. Or have seen myself becoming if people like Ariadne and Kerrass had not been standing next to me.

If friends at University hadn't taken me in and looked after me after having been ostracised from family. And if Emma, Mark, Sam and Francesca hadn't been there. To remind me that not all of my family hated me.

I remember looking down at the poor wretch and feeling my own tears, hovering unshed in a sheen over my sight, echoing the poor man's tears. I remember looking down upon him and thinking "There but by the grace of the Flame and several good people, sit I."

Over and over and over again he would tell us the same thing through the tears running down his face, between the sobs that had destroyed his throat so that he spoke in a hoarse whisper. Along with the legend. "I saw him, I did. I did. I saw him," was another phrase that he muttered, more to himself than to any of the guardsmen that had looked after him. Not to me or to any of the people that had gone to that cell to talk to him either. Over and over again he said. "It just ain't right. It's not right. Not like that. So beautiful a person. It just ain't right."

After a bit of probing, it would come to light that he was also one of the town drunks and a petty thief to boot. But what he had seen had driven him to the guard. But that was the problem, in seeing what he had seen, he had sworn of alcohol for now and forever. So he was also going through alcohol withdrawal at the same time.

To finally get him to talk to me, Kerrass had to calm him with a gesture and a flash of green magic. When calm he seemed to share that same skill of storytelling. Apparently it's not unusual that the dregs of society share this skill in Toussaint. After all, what are people going to do with themselves when they are sitting round a small fire, trying to keep warm, passing around the last bottle of strong alcohol. What can they do for entertainment other than to tell each other stories.

"It was late." He whispered, his eyes staring into the middle distance. "The Soup Kitchen is alright and everything. The good soup more than makes up for the shitty preaching that the guy in charge gives out with the rolls of bread. Harry and Kreskit were gonna stay there but the other problem with the Soup Kitchen is that the miserable fucker that owns it won't let you have a drink there.

"So I decided that I would head down to the Belles and see if I could scrounge up some milk (Freddie's note: Apparently Beauclair slang for strong alcohol.). The customers round there are normally good for a bit of extra coin. The added guilt of going to visit a brothel when they've got wives and children at home is normally a good incentive to try and get some extra stains off of the soul by giving out some coin to the beggars.

"It were a cold night too. So I rather thought that I might be able to do quite well out of it. A nice bit of shivering does a world of good to the atmosphere, gives an extra bit of weight to the guilt that people feel and it also meant that I would pretty much have the place to myself. So I went down there and had picked out my spot. The men on the door were known to me and normally fairly good to bum a bit of pipeweed out of them or a bit of a drink.

"It sounded like everyone was having a good night in there. Lots of laughter, noise and music coming from the downstairs and lots of sounds of... another nature coming from the upstairs windows if you know what I mean.

"Pickings were good to be honest, winter is always best for it which is just as well as being able to find some small work from the vinyards is all but impossible in this time of year. So I were in pretty good spirits really. Laughing and joking with the men on the door and I was confident that I would be able to send one of them back indoors to get me a bottle of something suitably cheap if you know what I mean."

He paused for a long moment after that for the ghosts of memory to chase across his brain.

"She came out late. Not so late that she was going to be staying, but still pretty late. Us on the streets call her Nightflower. We know that she goes by Flower of the Night. But that's a little bit too posh for us. So we call her Nightflower. She's always been kind to us and is always good for a bit of a chat and a bit of gossip. She remembers what it was like you see. She grew up on the streets for a couple of years before it became clear just how beautiful she was gonna grow up to be. Beautiful enough that the streets would become dangerous. Beautiful enough to find work.

"So even if she has no money, the oppotrunity to stand and talk with her is a blessing to someone like me. I know what I am. I am the filth that you scrape off the sole of your boot. I'm a thief, a liar, a drunk and a cheat. No sense denying it. But in that moment, talking to one of the most beautiful women in the world. When she smiles at you and laughs at one of my stupid jokes. You find yourself thinking that it all might be worth it for some of the beauty in the world.

"She has that trick you know. The trick of making you feel valued and loved. As though you're the most important person in the world. Sometimes, that's a greater gift than money.

"She stopped to say hello, same as she ever would and told me off for not being indoors where it were warm. Scolding me on the grounds that she didn't donate to the homeless shelters and the soup kitchens for me to freeze to death out here. She looked around I remember. Looked around as though she was afraid of something, nervous about something. But then she didn't see it and she seemed to relax a little. As though one of the cares on her shoulders had been lifted. She laughed a little before lifting her hood up and walking off into the night.

"She wore a dark cloak. She always did. Under that cloak her beauty was on display with all the artifice that the dress maker could ensure. She would stand out in the room like a rose in the nettle patch but the moment that she wrapped herself in that cloak, you wouldn't be able to pick her out of a crowd. That's if you could see her at that time of night.

"Off she went and we thought nothing else about it.

"I spent a little while longer there. Generally speaking you know when it's time to turn around and go home. In this case home was a blanket near the hearth of the Soup Kitchen, so I could get first pickings from the morning soup. It's an instinct really, born out of many years sitting out and waiting for a moment like this one. It's when the sounds downstairs die off, but the ones upstairs are still going if you follow.

"At that time of night, anyone upstairs is staying for the duration and will be eating breakfast there. So I counted my earnings and got one of the doormen to go indoors and fetch me a small bottle of something. I couldn't afford much so the spirit were cheap but I'm not fussy when it comes to that kind of thing. I'm not as bad as I have been. I once ate my own vomit because I didn't want to waste the vodka that I'd drunk. But I will still take spirits that others would ignore.

"They gave me a flask and told me to be on my way. They weren't harsh about it. It was just... the cost of doing business you know?

"So I walk back to the soup Kitchens feeling well pleased with myself. I took my time too. I didn't want to share any of the milk with any of the others you see. After a while it becomes a real risk that you are going to be there with your bottle of hard won alcohol and then all your mates are asking for a sip to take the edge off the cold and the hardship and the self-loathing that comes with it all. And of course you do that because you remember those nights when a snifter from a friend's bottle is all that kept you going on the cold and hard nights.

"But I wanted to savour it a little. I had won the stuff and I wanted to savour it. If you go into a situation like that with a bigger share of a bottle then people take more liberties you know? I don't mind helping some friends with a little sip. But if there was a bigger bottle then people take more.

"I know what that makes me sound like. Believe me I know.

"So I were on my way back, taking the side alleys out of habit. We all knew about that lady that had been attacked a couple of nights before and so you take the side alleys so that you don't get involved in anything. It never pays someone like me to get involved in anything political and that thing looked and sounded political to me. So I avoided it like the fucking Catriona.

"And you mark my words. No-one knows the streets better than the beggars. Even the thieves think that they are smarter than us but at the end of the day, a thief who knows the fastest route to the fence and the hideout is nothing compared to the beggar that knows that the difference between a hot meal and a warm blanket is who gets there first. I know that because I have been on both sides of that argument.

"So I were taking the side alleys home when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I don't know what it were. I swear to you that I have no idea what it was. I've thought about it since but I can't tell you what it was. I remember that it was strange and seemed... odd to me. My first thought was that it was some kind of wraith. They might be less common in the cities and things, but that doesn't mean that they don't turn up. Spurned people still happen in the city, not just out in the farmland. But then again, there have been less problems with that sort of thing since Lord Geralt moved in nearby.

"I met him once, Lord Geralt I mean. He was in the soup kitchen asking about some messages that a friend had been delivering.

"But I saw something. The second thing I thought was that it were a nipper out on the streets. There are rules to living on the streets and one of those rules is that you never leave a kiddie behind. Fuck knows what could happen to them if you do. Freezing to death is the very best thing that they could hope to come across.

"But you never leave a kiddie behind. You take them in, find them somewhere warm to sleep and get some food in them. Their lives are hard as it is and the last thing they need is some kind of grubby old man taking advantage of them. Normally, we take them off to the orphanage outside of town. The guards on the gate are understanding about that kind of thing and they let you back into Beauclair if they know that the reason you left was that you were taking a Kiddie off to the orphanage. They've been known to get shirty otherwise.

"So you never leave a Kiddie behind. So I went to look didn't I. I wish I hadn't. I really wish I hadn't.

"I took another long pull from the flask on the grounds that if I had to try and talk a kid out from whatever hiding place that they had found, then I would need to be relatively charming. I'm really bad at being charming when I'm sober. I tend to try and steal things when I'm sober.

"So I come round the corner. Slowly. If it were a Kiddie then I don't want to scare them off or otherwise make them run away as there were no way that I would catch them. I'm not kidding myself. I'm not as young as I was and I didn''t save wisely. I spent all my ill-gotten gains on booze mostly. Booze and women.

"But I went with quantity rather than quality. In both cases.

"Blood doesn't look red in the moonlight. It looks black. But even despite this, there is no denying what it is that you're looking at. Moonlight removes all colour from the scene so that it was bathed in blacks, whites and silvers.

"There were blood everywhere. It was like a butcher's slaughtering yard. It were only a small alleyway but it was like walking into a battlefield. I once heard a joke, that part of the reason that Knights wear so much armour is because they are just trying to keep all the blood and guts on the inside. That when a Knight has died in combat, then quite often you take all the armour off and the blood just runs out. I remembered that joke as I shuffled into the alley. I remembered that joke because it made me think that this is what it would have been like. Walking into an armoured suit when the person inside it has died.

"There was a figure lying on the ground a little bit further up the road. I couldn't see who it was at first because she was on her back and facing away from me. She was obviously dead. No-one looks like that was still alive. I crept forwards. I don't know why. She were dead, there was clearly nothing I could do for her. In my more unworthy moments I think that I might have been looking to see what I could salvage from her body.

"I hope not. But the fear is there nonetheless. I came round, carefully putting my feet down so I didn't get any blood on them. I didn't choose to do that. It was just an instinct really which seems odd because my other instinct was to run, the fuck, away.

"I recognised the dress first. Nightflower always liked blue dresses. I don't know why but she always liked blue and this was no different. Slightly more revealing than the dresses that the noblewomen wear. But slightly more modest than the dresses that the other girls wore. Showing off more but leaving more to the imagination.

"The dress was torn, all but destroyed. Ripped really.

"I remember moaning a denial. I refused to believe it. I knew it had to be true. The dead woman had the right coloured hair, the dress was the same and although this place wasn't on the way back to where her house was...

"Of course I knew. We all knew. She makes enough to keep a cook who acts as a maid as well and she's always good for some leftovers out the back door.

"But I didn't want it to be her. It seemed wrong somehow. I didn't want it to be her. But it was her. It was always her. And the worst thing was, that the only reason that I could recognise her was because Jack had left her face untouched. Her eyes staring out of that face in a stark and terrifying horror. As though she was looking at something that was tearing her very being apart. Because of course it was. Her mouth open in a scream that no-one had heard.

"She had been stabbed, over and over and over and over again. And where she hadn't been stabbed, she had been slashed and slashed as though by a madman in a fury. A frenzy really. There were also... bits of her stacked next to...

"I can't... I can't..."

"...

"She was barely even a body by the time he was done with her. She was barely even a thing. I've seen cow caracasses look stronger and better held together than she was. I've seen dead pigs that looked more like meat. She didn't look like a body. She looked like offal. She looked like an empty leather bag of leather.

"And she was still warm. She was still warm. How could she still be warm?

"...

"It won't surprise anyone that I vomitted. I felt dizzy. I still didn't believe it. Nightflower couldn't be dead. She couldn't. I still can't believe it. She was the one of us that was going to make it. She was going to get out. She was going to retire to the country and get a nice little cottage somewhere where she was going to raise goats. That is if she didn't meet some rich kind of a Lord that would sweep her off her feet and look after her. She was the Princess to us all. All us folk on the streets.

"And she were dead. It was awful, I nearly fell down. Which was when I heard him.

"He was laughing at me. He was standing on the rooftop looking down at me. And he was laughing at the horror that he had caused.

"I recognised him instantly. Of course I did. There isn't anyone in Toussaint that doesn't know what he looks like. They still tell the stories about that night in the taverns and in the small gatherings of people all over Toussaint. Of course I recognised him.

"And he laughed. At me, at her, at us. He laughed at Toussaint and Beauclair and the guard and the beggars and the people and everything and I just lay there. I don't remember falling but it was as though I had been knocked from my feet by the force of his... scorn.

"I wept from the force of it. He seemed to stagger as though he had been knocked from his perch by the force of his laughter. He was almost bent double with the hysterical shouts that he had. Before he seemed to straighten. He tugged the lip of his hat in this kind of mocking salute to me before he turned and jumped down.

"I don't know how long I lay there. I remember turning and looking over at Nightflower and longing for her eyes to blink. For all of this to be some kind of nightmare.

"I turned and crawled. At first it was hard but then I came to my feet and started moving. I was sober now. Gods and Prophets but I wanted to be drunk. I got to the end of the alley and retched again. I didn't know what to do. I literally turned to head towards the soup kitchen but then a thought came to me that I couldn't leave her like that. I couldn't leave her in the dirt and the filth for the rats and the flies to get to her. I couldn't.

"So I went back. I took what passed for my winter cloak from my shoulders and draped it over her. So her face was covered at least. It wasn't big enough to cover the rest of her.

"I remember walking to the guard post. It seemed to take a long time and I was constantly looking up. I was constantly waiting for Jack to jump down and end my miserable life with the flick of a sword and blow of a club.

"Heh. In all honesty it's a miracle that the guards didn't arrest me there and then for the murder themselves. I was covered in blood and filth. I suppose it was a good job that they knew me though. It took them a while to get my story, I was sober but the alcohol and the... rest of it had cut gouges out of my brain.

"They keep telling me that I was brave to come back here. They keep thanking me for it as though I did something remarkable. I didn't. I lay there, cowering in fear while that prince of fuckers stood there and laughed at me. Me and the woman that he had ruined. The wonderful woman, the perfect woman and he had killed her.

"I loved her. We all did and now she's dead. I had to come back. I had to tell someone before... before...

"...

"I'll tell you this My Lords. I am a drunk, a drug addict, a smuggler in my youth, a thief and yes, I have been a murderer in the past. It were him or me both times and I'll hold my hand up to it. But I've never raped a woman, I've never killed in cold blood and I've only ever fought in self defence.

"There are just some things you don't do. You just don't do them you know? Tell me that you know that?

"You don't do what that bastard did to her. You just don't. It don't matter if it was a boy, girl, man or a woman. It doesn't matter if they're Elf, Dwarf, Halfling, Lord, Lady, Rich, Poor, Foreign or local. You just don't do that to a person.

"You just don't."

He wept after telling us his story and they made him drink a sedative so that he would get some rest. I asked what was planned to do with him and no-one had an answer for me. As we walked away though, Captain De La Tour commented something.

"Even scum have standards." He said.

I closed my eyes for a long moment after Syanna dropped her shock declaration about Jack and listened to the room.

It was all but silent. I could hear the crackling of the fire and the movement of the armour as the Knights breathed in and out. It felt like... It was one of those moments. The moment before the beginning of the storm, the moment before we had headed out on our "Quest" in Skellige. The moment before the fighting had actually started back in Angral.

Apparently there is a name for it although I have no idea what it is. The poets call it "The calm before the storm" but I find I don't like it being phrased like that. I mean it's technically correct as I said earlier, but saying "The calm before the storm" makes it sound more beautiful than it actually is. Warriors and soldiers refer to it as the moment between when the "advance" is sounded by the horns and the soldiers all look at each other for just a moment before one of them puts that first foot forward knowing that they all might be about to die.

It says something about me that I find that moment kind of exciting.

Why?

Because another time that this moment comes is in that moment immediately after the girl says yes but before you start kissing.

I listened to it in that moment. I felt it in my fingers and my toes. That same cold and ready feeling that comes before a fight is due to start. I thought about it for a moment and asked myself how I felt about it. Did I like it? Did I want it? Or was it it something that I needed to be frightened of and monitor to make sure that I didn't... lose myself in it.

I had just realised that I didn't know the answer, but also that this was my future. Of constantly monitoring feelings and emotions to see if I needed to be scared of what my body or my mind was telling me.

Someone cleared their throat and it startled me into action.

"You all knew that this was happening." I said quietly as I opened my eyes. It was not a question and no-one answered it. "You all knew that this was happening and you chose not to tell me about it."

I found, much to my surprise, that I was angry.

"Freddie." A woman's voice. "We..."

"What do you need from me?" I asked the Knight Commander and rose to my feet. I had not moved or spoken to interrupt whoever it was that had started to speak. But I did so and they lapsed into silence.

"There are two problems." Syanna told me. Her expression was neutral, if guarded. "The first is... Is it Jack or is it a copycat? The second is, if it is Jack, how do we deal with it?"

I nodded as I took that in. I shifted, there was something in the back of my robe that was scratching between my shoulderblades.

"So..." I prompted.

"So we thought that you could come, listen to our accounts, look at what evidence we've gathered, speak to the witnesses and then make a recommendation. The remit of the Knights of Saint Francesca is such that we are not to take on impossible tasks by ourselves. But to enquire of specialists if we do not have the knowledge and the experience ourselves. This is me, doing precisely that."

I nodded and took a deep breath.

"Ok. I need to think and get dressed as I can hardly come with you in my underclothes and a robe." I turned to leave and was most of the way to the door before Mark took my arm and stopped me.

"Freddie, you're sick. You can't..."

I shook his arm off violently. More violently than I intended and Mark stepped back, shocked.

"You knew." I hissed, again I was surprised that I was quite as angry as I was. "You knew that people were being attacked, raped and murdered." I took my time saying it, forcing my voice to stay calm and level. I didn't want to break and whimper it, burst into tears of rage or let my voice shake. I reached for strength and it wasn't there so I took my time.

"I assume that you have come to ask for my help before?" I asked Syanna who was also looking a little... wide eyed. She nodded.

"You knew." I went on. "You knew that people wanted my help. That my help might have saved people. And you kept it from me."

"We didn't want..." I know that it was Emma that was speaking that time because I saw her.

"We went to a party last night." I snapped and closed my eyes so that I could fight for control. "People were being attacked, raped and murdered. And we went to a party last night."

I turned my back on them, all of them and walked into my room where I stood and trembled for a moment. The door opened and closed behind me and I spun, anger on the edge of my tongue.

"It's only me." Anne told me. "I came in for whatever you need."

"I need a shirt." I told her after a moment's thought. "A shirt, warm tunic and trousers. Boots as well if we're going to be riding and I rather suspect that we are. Probably a warm cloak. I suspect that Im going to be susceptible to the cold at the moment."

Anne nodded before a slow smile crept across her face. "You look better. Righteous anger looks good on you."

"Does it?" I wondered. "That's good because I'm shaking like a leaf."

She came over and hugged me briefly. "This is advice that you've probably heard before, or a version of it anyway. It was something that I was told when I was first given to the Brothel. The Madam told me that a client only sees what you show them. If you show them happiness then they will see that. Bury your doubts and your fears and your pain and show the world that you are having pleasure. They will believe you because that's what they want to see. Then one day, you might even have a bit of pleasure as a side-effect."

I felt the stirrings of humour. "So you're saying that I should fake an orgasm."

She laughed. "Humour suits you as well."

"I know what you're saying." I told her. "You're telling me to fake it till I make it."

"Pretty much." She agreed as she pulled out a shirt. "Now get out of your robe while I pretend that I'm your servant for a bit. Just don't get used to it. I am neither nurse or servant."

"I remember."

I often find it easier to do as the beautiful women tell me. It makes for a quieter life.

She helped me on with my shirt and tunic. I rather insisted on putting on my own pair of trousers which made her giggle a little at my expense before I pushed my feet into my boots. The clothing was the warm stuff that we had been given as part of the package from the tailor. None of it would be wearable in the North without people making Peacocok jokes. But some warmer clothes had been added in case we were to go riding around Toussaint.

It was certainly warm but I will admit that I found it a little uncomfortable. It felt tight across the shoulders and didn't seem as though it fit me properly. The closest I can suggest was that feeling that you get when you get dressed in the early part of the morning when it's still dark and your mind is fogged with lack of sleep. Then you put your tunic on the wrong way round. It still fits but it doesn't quite and you struggle with it until you realise that you put it on the wrong way round.

That's what it felt like.

But I wore my old boots. At least my feet would be warm and comfortable.

Anne helped me into my new fur-lined cloak which, again, felt a little too large and unwieldy. But at least it was warm. She came round the front and straightened the collar and pulled my belt into the proper positioning with my dagger in place of a sword.

"There we go." She declared. "A regular little Knight Errant Lordling."

"I know you mean well." I told her. "But did you, or did you not, just insult me rather grievously."

She turned her head on one side. "It could go either way."

She leant forward and kissed me briefly and it struck me that I was standing very close to a beautiful woman.

"Not that I'm complaining." I told her. "But what was that for."

"For luck." She said. "And you really do seem better this morning. Now off you go before the already tense situation in the room next door starts to get even further out of hand."

She swatted me on the ass on the way out.

The other room had barely moved. The only person that was out of position was Mark and I guessed that this was because he was given to pacing.

Emma came over to me. "Freddie, I know you're angry but... you are sick. You can't..."

"I don't want to hear it." I told her as calmly as I could manage. "I am going to help. Because I can."

She opened her mouth to start speaking and I held my hand up to stop her.

"I know." I began. "I know that this was kept from me as an effort to help me, and out of care for my... fragile state and illness."

I looked around the room. Emma was defiant, but I thought I could see doubt in there as well. Mark was sullen and thoughtful. Ariadne was wearing her mask of calm which meant that she was probably quite agitated. Laurelen and Kerrass looked resigned.

"Believe me when I say," I was talking carefully and calmly again, there was still a lot going on and I wanted to be very clear when I said what I to say. I had to clear my throat and start again. "Believe me when I say that the only reason that I am not walking out in disgust is that you did what you did out of care for me. But I am appalled that you have behaved in this way. I hope it is obvious, that if I could have helped with this, and your delay cost some poor woman her life or... her virtue or worse. Then that is on you and I will be the first person to lay the blame."

"Freddie..." Mark began. Emma looked as though I slapped her.

I cleared my throat again. "I am going to go and help now." I said, still speaking as slowly and carefully as I could. "I am also using this time to try and calm down."

"Freddie..." Mark tried again.

"Believe me when I say." I interrupted. "That we are not done with this topic of conversation. I will decide what I want to say when I am calmer, and I shall address this by tomorrow morning at the latest."

I took a deep breath. Emma wouldn't meet my gaze any more.

"But for now," I went on, "Your concerns are not unfounded. I also need some things."

Ariadne nodded slightly and climbed to her feet.

Kerrass finally moved, pushing himself away from the hearth. "What do you need Freddie?" He asked.

I nodded. I realised that I had been most afraid of what those two reactions would be.

"Ok first, Laurelen?" Laurelen stood up from where she had been sitting in the corner of the room.

"I am here." She said. "What do you need?"

"I need either you, or someone, to go to my publisher at Oxenfurt and bring back a copy of my unedited reference book on Jack, we might need it as I don't have all my notes with me and the book is far better for reference should we need it."

Laurelen nodded. "I shall go and use the transport gate directly."

"You know which one is my Publisher?"

She nodded as she walked over and put her hand on Emma's shoulder. Emma's eyes were tearing up a bit and the two women hugged.

"I will be back later today." Laurelen declared. "Where can I find you if not here?"

"I don't know, Knight Commander?"

"The Chapter house. Or they can direct you." Syanna said.

Laurelen left quietly in the company of one of the Knights.

"Ariadne," I went on, looking over at her. She met my gaze calmly. "Everyone's concerns about my health are... not unfounded. Come with me and..." I took a deep breath. "And keep an eye on me for that."

She nodded. "Always My Love."

"And Kerrass." I said. "I don't know how to say this. But if Jack is out there, then I need you to... I need you." I tried to think of what else to say to add to that. But those words seemed to cover it. So I shrugged to show that I was finished.

"Never leave your side Freddie." He seemed to think. "I just need to get a few things."

I nodded as he disappeared back in the direction of the rooms.

I tried to think. This had always seemed to come so easy to me.

"Knight Commander." I spoke before I knew what I was going to say.

"Lord Frederick."

"If Jack is out there, attacking, killing and raping. I trust that recent confrontations will not modify your care over my sister. I love her dearly and would not lose her to this."

I think I'm not imagining Emma sobbing at that but I did not trust myself to look at her without losing control of my voice and my composure.

"I cannot double her guard as I do not have the manpower." Syanna told me. "I shall speak with Captain de la Tour and see if he can spare some men to add to your family's protection."

I nodded at that.

"Ok then. I would just like to speak to Ariadne briefly, in private, while Kerrass is preparing."

Syanna nodded. I noticed that Mark had knelt next to Emma's chair and was hugging her. I held my hand out, which Ariadne took and I led her into the corner of the room.

I looked at her for a long moment. She was as close to her image, her mask, of humanity as I had seen her in a while. A sure sign of some kind of distress.

"I... ummm." I paused. "Not gonna lie, but I could use a hug?" I asked, dismayed by how small my voice was.

"Oh Freddie. Oh Love." Her mask dissolved and she wrapped her arms round me. "I'm so sorry." She whispered in my ear. "I am so sorry. I promise that I will never do it again. I'm so sorry."

"Why?" I asked.

"Your sister asked me not to tell you. Ordered me in fact" She pulled back and I saw, again, a Vampire weeping. "And I will admit that at the time, it seemed like a good idea. Later, I argued with them but they insisted and I am not your family yet. So..."

"Fuck that." I snarled, a little harsher than I wanted to. "You are my family now. Fucking hell, you are my world."

She hugged me again at that.

"I won't lie." I said into her ear. "I am really hurt and really angry and we're going to need to talk about that at some point."

"We will."

"But I love you." I told her. "I wanted to remind you of that."

She nodded. "Thank you. And I love you. I will never stop." Something in the way she said that caught at my soul.

Then, lightening fast, her mood changed as she pulled back a bit, gazing at me critically. "You seem better."

"That's good because I'm shaking like a leaf." I told her.

She visibly considered me. "I must speak with Anne before we go."

Kerrass emerged from the corridor with a couple of bundles that he was still tying up and slinging on his back. Ariadne came after him wearing some kind of travel dress.

I didn't notice. I was frowning and staring into space. I would like to say that I was thinking. Considering everything that I needed to say, everything that I needed to do and what I needed to look out for. But I feel that the truth is much closer to my simply staring into space.

I also understand from witnesses, that both Emma and Mark tried to approach to talk to me but chickened out at the last moment.

We left afterwards to find that horses were ready and we mounted up. We were just leaving the palace courtyard when I shook myself and shivered.

"Nothing to say to me Kerrass?" I wondered.

"No." He said after a while.

"Why?" I wondered.

"We made a mistake. It's not the first time and it will not be the last. I don't know," he shifted in his saddle. It was neither his horse, nor his saddle and he was still getting used to it. "It kind of feels a little bit as though I have nothing to apologise for while, at exactly the same time, knowing that an apology is not nearly enough."

He sighed and shifted his weight again, adjusting some of the packs and bundles that he had insisted on tying to his horse. I recognised his alchemy kit but beyond that there were several other sacks and blanket wraps that I didn't recognise.

"It was a mistake." He said. "I wanted to tell you because I had said that I would never hold anything back and I absolutely meant it at the time. But there is no denying that the last time I told you something, it made you ill for quite a long time afterwards. Emma and Mark insisted and, like Ariadne, I didn't feel as though I was... I didn't have the right to go around them."

"That's... an excuse Kerrass." I told him.

"No." He argued. "It was an explanation. I make no excuses. I also don't want to pass the blame but your family didn't want you involved. And after what happened last night, I am not entirely sure that they are wrong to do so."

I nodded and we rode on in silence for a short while.

"As I said to Ariadne." I told him. "I cannot deny that I am upset and angry about this. We will need to talk about that at some point."

"I know." He admitted.

There was a set to him. The same kind of posture and facial expression that told me that I wasn't going to get any further than that. The one that he would get upon him when he thought that I was skirting near subjects that were to do with Witcher secrets back during the early part of our association.

"How long have you known that it was Jack?" I wondered at him, shifting my shoulders. The cloak was heavier than I was used to.

"I didn't." He said. "I had heard rumours and things but that always struck me as hysteria. I knew that there had been attacks and, as is the way with such things, especially in Toussaint, there were people that see Jack in the shadows any time that people have been attacked and murdered horribly. That's how his story spreads after all."

I grunted at that. "Did you offer your services or try to pursue the matter yourself."

"I offered." He said. "But my help was declined."

"Oh?" Knight Commander Syanna wondered, breaking in to the conversation. "I had not heard that."

"I went to the Chapter House after the first attack became public." Kerrass told her. "I was told, politely and firmly that my help was not wanted and my presence was unwelcome."

Syanna stiffened for a moment before sighing. "It would seem that I still have some work to do then."

"Factions in the knights?" I wondered.

"There are always going to be factions." She admitted. "We predicted that from the start, indeed we tried to harness it in the name of friendly competition. Between the warriors and the investigators. The noble blooded and the common born. It was always going to happen but one of our core things is supposed to be that we would not look down on qualified help."

"Interesting." Ariadne said.

"I will admit that that was supposed to be about Local guides taking the Knights to the bandit encampment but..." Syanna shrugged.

"How likely is this going to be standing on people's toes?" I wondered.

"Some." Syanna admitted. "Damien, my sister and I wanted to consult you immediately. As did Guillaume and some of the more experienced knights who either know of you, survived the Fish market with injuries or have worked with Lord Geralt. But there are quite a few that feel as though they want to prove themselves. Without realising that there are things that we can't handle. And that's part of the point of making us different from the old Knights Errant."

"Any other issues?"

Syanna sighed. "We thought you were spurning us. We had been told several times that the message had been passed on and that you hadn't responded. So a few people will be offended that you have "finally deigned to show up" and lend us your aid. I will make what happened clear though as soon as I am able."

I nodded and let myself drift along, back to the problem.

I was torn. I didn't want to theorise or come up with anything before I had actually seen some of the evidence that Jack had come back. I didn't want to come up with anything or a course of action. But I couldn't help it.

Why would he come back? That was the main question that was bouncing through my mind. Generally speaking, the only time that he would arrive anywhere was when the people of an area stopped being afraid of what was round the corner. What was the thing, the monster, that hid in the darkness of the path? What was watching you from just outside the torchlight at the end of the alley way or underneath the shadowed arches of the old stone bridge in the rural tracks of the countryside.

That was when Jack would arrive and start throwing his weight around. But the story of Jack's passage was still fresh in people's minds. People were still talking about him in fear. It was part of the reason that we had been able to justify writing a book on the subject. That if we let people know that Jack was out there, hiding on the edge of vision. Then he wouldn't need to come back.

So why would he come back? That was the biggest question that was running through my head. Not "was Jack really back?" But why would he come back. There didn't seem to be a great deal of point to it.

There wasn't enough information of course and I was fighting to not allow myself to spend too much time thinking of potential solutions to the riddle.

But, I am also forced to admit, that it was rather pleasant to have a question to answer, a mystery to solve that wasn't anything to do with worrying about my own mental state.

We rode out of the capital and along the road past the famed estate Corvo Bianco until we reached and crossed the river before turning South and South East. It was another beautiful day in Toussaint, the cold sun reflected off the frozen water of the river. But now that I was looking for it, I could see signs that all was not well in Toussaint. There were still children skating on the ice, but I noticed that they would periodically look up at the sky to see what time it was. Even despite the fact that it was well before noon by the time we had departed.

There was a lot of that kind of thing. The fields were mostly deserted anyway. It was, after all, only just past the middle of winter and we had a long time to go before spring. But we could see lookouts and other things moving around. People were doing some work, the kind of rebuilding work that would normally come with the middle of winter. Making sure that there was enough firewood. But there was a frenzied element to it. We came through one little village and the villagers were soaking bundles of hay in oil to help them burn.

"Making sure there's enough light." Kerrass commented.

A large and angry group of men came out of the tavern. I had seen worse mobs, and larger. For a start, the person who was doing the talking was in the front of the group rather than hiding in the back. But they marched up to our group.

And they were all armed.

"Well Commander." The front one began. "Still polite but there was an anger to his words. "Are you going to take us seriously this time?"

Syanna sighed. "I never didn't take you seriously Mayor Jerone. The simple fact of the matter that Toussaint is a big place and it is going to take time to catch the bastard."

"You'll forgive me." The man said, clearly dissatisfied with what Syanna had said. "But it doesn't seem as though you have things in control. We can help."

"I agree." Syanna agreed. "You can help by staying indoors and keeping track of everyone in your village."

"But..."

"What you can't do is go around assaulting strangers and foreigners because you don't like the look of them."

"We are protecting our own." The mayor said. "If the Knights can't protect us then we need to protect ourselves."

Syanna's posture and voice hardened. "I would remind you, Mister Mayor, that the formation of a militia is prohibited. By which I mean any mechanism that you might invent to take the law into your own hands. That includes the formation of vigilence committees, neighbourhood watches and any other fancy words that you have learned out of the poetry books."

"But..."

"Law enforcement is a matter for the Knights in the countryside, and for the Guard in the city. By all means report anything that you see that might be suspicious. But pre-emptive action will be dealt with just as seriously as we will deal with the perpetrator of these horrible crimes. I promise you that."

She turned her horse and led the rest of us out and past the village.

"What was that about?" Ariadne wondered.

"People are afraid." Syanna told us. "When they are afraid they get angry. And they need to direct that anger somewhere. Last night as well as our finding another victim of... well..." She sniffed. "But as well as having to worry about that, a merchant was passing through. Fairly rich man from further South and so the locals decided that he was the killer and took him out to lynch him. Their evidence seemed to mostly be that he was a foreigner and that, therefore, it must be him."

"The killer or that he had summoned Jack?"

"They couldn't really say. Their opinion seemed to go both ways. We stopped it, but only just and now the man is demanding reperations from the Duchess.

"Lovely." Kerrass muttered. "So Vigilantes as well as Jack. Nothing is ever easy."

"You would be disappointed if it was." Ariadne tried for a joke.

"No." Kerrass argued. "I would admit, that I always love it when I can walk into a place, spot the monster, oil my blade and then kill the thing. Something nice and simple. In, out and back on the path. That's the way that we want it."

I saw the follow up joke and decided to go for it. "Be honest though. When was the last time that happened?"

"I seem to recall a certain village with some Nekkers." Kerrass replied quickly.

"But that was complicated by my arrival though." I argued. "SO it was hardly a "standard" contract. And I seem to recall having to help you with that as well."

"True." He allowed.

We continued to ride along, increasing speed to a gentle trot as we started to get outside the more populated areas. In my continuing struggle to keep my brain …. I suppose resting is the right term. In my continuing struggle to keep my brain resting on the problem of Jack. I was half drifting in and out of the conversation that was happening around me as we rode.

The road started to bend away from the river as we started to climb up through the hills before we came out into an open valley. We had been riding for a little over a couple of hours from the palace itself but with the way the terrain was, it was almost possible to believe that we were completely isolated from the rest of... well, the continent really. We were just heading into a small village when we took a sharp turn to the left where we seemed to be heading towards a row of trees. Tall fir trees that were planted evenly which suggested that they were part of the natural boundary of something. While also acting as a wind break for the land behind it.

We stopped briefly as we just entered the tree line as Syanna drew herself up.

"I saw you out there Bertrand." She called. "You too Eloise. You are supposed to be sentries where the idea is to watch. Not to be guards where part of the idea is to be seen. And if I can see you then an approaching enemy can see you as well."

An armoured figure stepped out from behind the trees on one side where another figure approached from behind the blind spot.

"Sorry Knight Commander," came a male voice. "But it's really hard to stay hidden when you..."

"Don't be sorry." Syanna snapped. "Be better. Now how were you going to try to excuse your miserable performance."

The figure stiffened. "The armour makes it hard to be stealthy. The sun is always glinting off the side."

Syanna nodded and turned to the other figure. "And you. What excuse do you have?"

"The armour is cold." A girl's voice. "I need to move to keep warm."

"So both of you excuse yourself on the grounds that wearing armour makes it hard."

I had to stifle a smile and forced myself to look on disapprovingly. Syanna's chosen method of leadership and teaching, seemed to be to make people hate her in order to prove her wrong as well as uniting them all against her. I presumed that she would become more genial as the Knights gained in seniority.

It works, but only if you also praise for the good ideas as much as you are harsh on the negative.

"Well..." The male shifted his feet.

"How could you make it better? How could you adjust for both problems?" Syanna demanded. "How could you stop your armour from glinting in the sunlight and giving away your position? And how can you keep yourself warm, so that you don't need to shift around as much?"

The two armoured figures shifted their weight and looked at each other.

"Take the armour off?" The girl suggested hopefully.

The temperature noticeably dropped.

"And when," Syanna bit off every word, "you need to act suddenly and don't have the time to put your armour on. How do you expect to survive?"

Neither of the two figures had an answer to that.

"Consider the problem?" Syanna demanded. "Present your answers to Sir Teodric and tell him why you have to do so. I will follow up with him."

"Yes Ma'am." Both figures saluted.

"Return to your posts." Syanna snapped, ripping off a quick salute.

We rode on. There was a guard post down the line where a Knight stepped out. He was wearing a somewhat lighter suit of armour than most seemed to carry. He had an open faced helm on and he gave the amusing impression of a large, rotund man as he moved.

It was an illusion though as the appearance of the extra weight was due to all of the extra padding that he had wrapped around himself.

He had a large horn at his side.

"Knight Commander." He saluted as we approcahed. He was an older man with a grey moustache evidence on his face. At his side rested a large axe alongside a huge curled brass horn. There was a shield near the guard post.

"Sir Philbert." Syanna acknowledged.

"Lord Frederick finally deigning to help then is he." The man sniffed. "Could have used him a couple of..."

"Lord Frederick was not aware of the situation." Syanna told him before I could object. "It had been deliberately kept from him."

"How does one manage to ignore..." The older knight seemed skeptical and to be fair, I could hardly blame him.

"When one is surrounded by people deliberately preserving his ignorance." Kerrass answered for me.

The Knight shook his head in amazement.

"I would appreciate it..." Syanna went on. "If it were passed around that Lord Frederick had little choice in the matter. Now, who else has been and gone? Any unusual traffic?"

The Knight headed back into the guard hut.

"Are you alright?" Ariadne asked me quietly.

I shifted in the saddle. "I'm ok. Collar's a little tight on this shirt."

Ariadne's eyes searched my face for a moment before she nodded to her satisfaction.

The Knight came out of the hut with a large, leatherbound book that he offered to her. "The Captain is here. There was a Lord and Lady Belleme here that were demanding what we were doing about all these attacks as well as a delegation from the quarry who were demanding something similar only with much cruder language."

Syanna examined the book with a frown, running her finger down the entries, before nodding. "Very well." They exchanged salutes again and we rode on.

Abruptly we left the tree line and came out into a large open area that was covered in Vines. Well cut back at the moment and workers could be seen patrolling the pathways between the vines, checking on the status of the vine frames and the fencework. Effecting repairs and replacing those parts that needed replacing.

For a while there, thoughts of Jack or wonderings as to why this might all be happening were driven from my mind as I looked around myself. It was beautiful here.

In the distance I could see the old Manor house that formed the centre of the old Vinery. It looked like a cross between a residence and a fortification which I suppose was part of the idea. Even at this distance I could see armoured figures moving around and training. Groups of horse people were riding this way and that way. I could see a tilting pitch with the usual mechanisms of torture. The Jousting dummies, the pendulums and the like.

But over all that, it was actually quite peaceful. The sheltered nature of the land gave it an odd feeling of calm despite the frantic atmosphere.

And as we rode further in, I could also see signs that the land had been heavily rennovated so that any kind of attacking force would struggle to make any way. The road that we followed had many twists and turns in it to confound a direct approach. I could also see disguised archery steps and shelters and I further noticed that all of the field workers were armed.

Syanna and Ariadne were chatting away.

"I insist that all of the Knight recruits work in the fields." Syanna said.

"Why?" Ariadne wondered as she looked around. Kerrass snorted at Syanna's comments.

"I have found that physical labour is the great leveller. Ideally I would want to subject all of the pricked up privilidged idiots that arrive and want to be a Knight to the kinds of deprivations that I have had to suffer as well as the sorts of things that I know that Master Kerrass has had to go through. Send them off with a fixed amount of money and expect them to fend for themselves, that sort of thing. But I am more than a little aware that I am a vindictive bitch and that very few of my recruits would actually make it back. It would mean that any that did come back could be moulded into a formidable force but... Annarietta insisted that I not upset so many people so quickly."

She pulled a face as she said it, forcing a chuckle from Kerrass and Ariadne both.

"But I wanted a trial." Syanna went on. "I wanted something hard and unpleasant for them all to be doing so that I could... test them I suppose. Any number of people could pass tests of swordsmanship, riding or learning. But to be the kind of Knight that I want to see protecting Toussaint, you have to be willing to do the unpleasant jobs. Common folk idiots need to realise that becoming a Knight is not a quick way out of the fields into an easy job with lots of acclaim, shiny armour, swords and maidens throwing themselves at you.

"Noble-born idiots need to know that being a Knight also involves hard work. Learning alongside people who's blood is not as blue as the rest of them. They need to be able to associate and converse with farmers, merchants, sailors and beggars without their coming across as unpleasant, superior boors.

"So I wanted a test. Something hard, physical, skilled and unpleasant. You can't just walk into the vinyards and expect to be able to summon perfect grapes from the field, or build a wall or dig a ditch. You need to learn how to do it."

"Why?" Ariadne wondered. She was fascinated.

"Becuase I wanted to test their conviction." Syanna said. "I wanted to know if they would stick it out. That they wanted to join the knights. Otherwise there wasn't that much point in the matter. A test. If they really wanted it they would work through the horrors of ditch-digging. Get over their preconceptions of what it is to be a Knight in order to buckle down and do the work."

"And this is how you expected your men to act when you lived on the road?" Kerrass wondered.

"It was."

"So are you training knights or bandits?" He wondered.

Syanna laughed. "You would be surprised at the similarities between the two. Both tend to have a code of honour, even if it is unrecognisable to you. Both have rules and both are expected to do their part. In my experience, robber bands are just as selective on how many members they accept, so that they can preserve their quality. Knights and bandit bands alike cannot afford to carry dead weight."

Kerrass had nothing to say to that.

I found that I had a question.

"How much of the land has been reshaped by you, or Emma for that matter, since you took over from Crawthorne?"

"Two points." Syanna responded. "Your sister's innovations are to do with the farming innovations although, to be fair, most of what she did was to hire people based on competency rather than thir blood and family history. The previous man who ran the place was a descendant of some Bastard of the Crawthorne line and was therefore trusted to keep the place running smoothly. Your sister immediately sacked him, much to his relief actually, as he was only a young lad, and hired one of the oldest, most withered field workers to do the job. I'm told that people are expecting the next years harvest to be... impressive. I can't speak for that but certainly, the wine produced is of a better quality.

"My changes were the cosmetic ones. We moved the road and made it less straight."

"That must be a lot of work." Ariadne commented.

"Not as much as you might think. There were tracks between some of the fields to help with moving goods. Also, or so I'm told. Once vines have taken hold, it actively takes work to get them to stop. It was easy to move the vine frames to where we wanted them to go. But I didn't want it to be easy for attacking forces to ride up to our gates so I wanted a twisty, windy road. I also put in the firing steps. As well as sword, lance, mace and axe, I expect all of my Knights to train with Long bows and cross-bows."

"You would still struggle to keep out an army." Kerrass commented.

"Yes. But it did two things. It inspired confidence in what we were doing as well as providing lots of hard, back breaking toil for me to use to break in the new knights." She grinned nastily.

What I had first thought of as a central building actually turned out to be a small complex of several buildings. There was the, obviously quite old, main residence that I guessed to have been part of the original winery. There were still visible signs of it having been, only recently, changed from being part residence, part winery operations place, to some kind of barracks and there was still work being done to correct various things. Door ways that would once have been entrances to large warehouse areas were still being walled up. Decorative walls were being removed and so on.

But further over there were other, much newer buildings. Recently made, with all of the rennovations that modern industrial architecture built in. I could not, for one moment, tell you what these rennovations were so please don't ask. All I can say is that it was easy to see which buildings were new and which buildings were old. Something to do with the stone work and the way that the construction was... Oh, I don't know.

All I can tell you for sure was that there were a few dwarves that were, again, still at work on some of the stone work and there were also several trolls that were helping out as well. My understanding is that trolls have a natural affinity and love for stonework that outstrips even the dwarven love for such things. The only difference being that... And I might be being unfair to one group or the other so I apologise. Dwarves are often craftsmen on this scale. They can work together to make a building and come up with innovations. Where as Trolls see each construction as an individual piece of art. A group of dwarves could build a bridge but a Troll would do it himself and consider it a point of pride.

"The first thing we had to do was to move the wine production out of the chateau itself." Syanna was still commentating. "We also wanted separate quarters for those servants that would still be on the land as well as the field workers. Your family, absolutely refused to be involved if any of those people that made their livelihoods from the land or the building would be losing their jobs or their homes. But neither did we want the new Knights to be able to order servants around. I wanted the Knights to be self-sufficient and used to the idea that no-one was going to come and maintain their weapons and armour for them. They needed to be able to fetch their own food and empty their own chamber pots as well."

Kerrass smirked at the image.

"The Wine production funded us but we, again, needed a seperation, the one from the other, when it came to wine and Knights. Some of the Knights that were coming to us were quite young and we didn't want them drinking the wine that we do, after all, depend on. We also didn't want people to confuse wine workers for servants and start ordering them around."

She gestured towards the servants quarters and the Wine facilities respectively.

"So after that we have training yards where we do all the drills that you might expect. Fighting versus various weapons and on various odds. We also have an archery range and missile weapon ranges for throwing axes and daggers. As well as that, our stable facilities are quite extensive and we have several training paddocks where our new Knight recruits get their horsemanship up to scratch."

She gestured and pointed out those areas as she spoke about them.

"And you put all of this together in the year since you took over?" Kerrass wondered. "That must have cost a fortune."

"And it did. Part of that was from what remained of the Crawthorne fortune. That helped but there was a lot of guilt floating around at the time and I had absoultely no shame at all about using some of that when it came to gathering donations from the other families that had allowed the Knights Errant to slip into what it had become."

She sighed.

"I am being harsh on those Knights. It is true that I was mistreated by those men and still others had turned into bullies, bigots and the worst kinds of racist, classist, mosgynistic snobs. But many of them were good men who were trying to do their best within the system. Sir Guillaume de Launfal is the best example of that.

"Those men came to join us here and I will freely admit that I have been hard on them. But I must also admit that they have shown, repeatedly, that they do try and become better than they had been. But we are not perfect and while I work, every day, to overcome my prejudices against the Knights Errant, they work everyday to overcome their old prejudices against common born fellows and the like. We are making progress but it is slow. I say this to warn you that it is almost certain that you Witcher, and you Ma'am, may have a few issues with certain members of the Knights. But feel free to correct them on their assholery."

"We will do that." Ariadne smirked as Kerrass nodded.

Syanna smiled a little.

"Fortunately," she went on, "we have a common enemy in people like Sir Morgan and Sir Raoul. All the old guard who stand there and tell everyone that things were much better "back in the day". Those people can all suck my raging purple dick."

We rode into the courtyard and some younger men, no more than eleven or twelve, came to take our horses. I dismounted and nearly stumbled. The trousers were certainly warm enough but they were a little too tight to be entirely comfortable which meant that I felt as though my legs were too short for my boots.

Kerrass took his packs off the back of the horses and looked around.

"Impressive setup you have." He commented.

"Thank you. I was actually going to see if I could talk you into coming and leading some lessons. I keep asking Lord Geralt but he refuses."

Kerrass nodded. "I don't think our training methods would be... of benefit to you."

"You might be surprised. At the least, you could give a lecture on proper identification of monsters."

"There are many people better suited to that kind of thing." Kerrass told her. "Lord Frederick for example. The most I could do is scare the shit out of some people but they wouldn't learn anything worthwhile from me."

"Some people could do with that." Syanna mused.

"Not to interrupt." Ariadne began. "But I would rather that Freddie not be outdoors as much. After Yesterday..."

"No, you're right." Syanna admitted, interrupting before she turned and led us indoors.

She led us to the main door of the building. Two Knights stood on either side in their full Plate Harness. They looked more like Golems than men. Artificially created things of metal like the enchanted sentinels that I had seen on my travels with Kerrass.

The thought occurred for a moment as to how dangerous it would be for a wizard to create a Goelm out of metal rather than Stone or fire and wondered if it was even possible before I turned aside from that train of thought.

Which happened because Syanna opened the doors and a hammer of sound struck me bewteen the eyes. From the relative peace of the outside it seemed that there was a hive of activity going on inside the building itself.

I looked in and the first thing that I saw was that the chandeliar had been lowered and a younger man, maybe eight or nine, was changing the candles. An older girl of around fourteen was practising her swordsmanship by striking at the candles to stop the strike half way through the candle to flick them out of the holders before pretending nonchalance to the youngster who, as I watched, realised what was happening and harrangued the now giggling girl.

The room itself must have once been a quite nice entrance hall. It was wood pannelled on either side with the floor being made from blank stone. There were discoloured patches on the walls where I would guess that portraits had once hung to have been removed by the new people dwelling there. Now there were chairs and small tables on both sides of the room where small groups of Knights would be sat at, maintaining weapons and armour and laughing at the japes and tomfoolery of the other, mostly younger, occupents of the room.

The room was dominated by the picture of Saint Francesca (As I hope I made clear, I now regard the two figures as being completely separate. One figure, Saint Francesca and the other as being my sister. It's the only way I can reconcile the one with the other.) It was the same portrait that Sam and I had carried onto the field of the tournament all that time ago, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. And for all the frantic activity in the rest of the room, the Knights, squires and trainees seemed to treat the portrait with a reverance that was missing elsewhere. None of them passed the painting without bowing to it.

There was a large table down the middle of the hallway that was kept stocked with food and drink. Again, it was not waited on by servants, but rather the food and drink was brought out of the Kitchens by the Knights and Squires themselves. I would later learn that it was done on a rotation system. Sometimes it was just their turn to cook the food, wait the tables and clean the latrines.

At the back of the hall there was a set of stairs that led up to the Mezzanines. There were doors leading off from the halls and upper corridors in all directions and for every man and woman that was playing, resting, eating or maintaining something. There was another man or woman moving around with a book, a piece of paper or otherwise moving around with a purpose.

It was the kind of place where you would have to scream at the person that you were talking to in order to hear yourself.

One group of Knights were playing at throwing daggers at a board where the scores had been marked. Another was doing something similar with throwing axes.

I saw another couple of, presumably knights. A young man and a woman sat together. This was no sweet embrace and if I was any judge, they would soon move beyond the heavy petting and outright snogging to taking things even further. Hopefully to a room but if not, it would appear that they would have no shame in consummating their feelings in front of the crowd of friends that were half jeering and half applauding.

Two figures, an older knight and a younger were duelling up and around the room. There was a central table that many of them were trying to eat at. The younger duellist leapt onto the table to the dismay of those people still dining and continued their fight accordingly. The older giving points on the technique used.

It was like an assault on the senses. Taste, hearing, sound, sights. Bright colours all around me.

Syanna led us through it easily leading the way. The crowd did not part before us. She simply ignored it all. The Duellists moved between us with an "excuse us." From the elder of the two, the younger was so focused on what he was doing that he barely even noticed that we were in the way.

She led us up some stairs and along a landing. We passed a group of knights on the stair that were playing cards for small scraps of paper. Another group were playing dice. As we moved along the landing I heard a cheer from down below as the couple had risen from their chair and bowed to their audience before, hand in hand, had left through another door to the complaints of the onlookers.

I was fascinated. When I had imagined a chapter house of Knights, this had been far from what I had expected. I had expected pious young men and women, working hard and moving around with a purpose. This had looked more like what I had experienced in the halls of the university when I had first gone to live there. Only turned up by a factor of something ridiculous.

I suppose that my preconceptions come from the fact that most orders of knights that I am aware of have been religious ones. So it was strange to my eyes that this was not the case.

"Excited by the young couple Freddie?" Ariadne teased as the door closed, cutting the room off from view.

I looked down at her and again, not for the first time and, hopefully, not the last. I realised that I was taller than she was.

"Soon Freddie." She breathed, her smile mischeivous. "Soon that will be us."

"Ahem." A male voice clearing his throat. "I know that the Knights of the Saint and the way that they comport themselves are surprising to those of us with better... manners."

Syanna snorted as we turned and saw Captain De La Tour glaring at the Knight Commander. "I suggest we get down to business."

"I have some other business first." Syanna said. "So it doesn't get lost in the shuffle." She opened the door again and bellowed out a name. "Gaspard." She all but screamed. "Bring Etienne too please."

Then she came back into the room.

"Maybe we could..." De La Tour tried again.

"We are." Syanna said as she looked at some of the papers in the room as I took the opportunity to look around.

I wandered round the room, trying to take as much in as I could on a straight pass through. There was a lot.

It was an office space or a meeting room. That much was clear. There was a large central table that seemed to be covered in maps and papers of various kinds. Again, the walls were wood panels with small squares and larger areas which told that various paintings and tapestries had once hung and protected the wood and the varnish from the Sun.

The walls were also covered in small bits of paper that seemed to be covered in someone's handwriting. There was a large fire, over which hung the rooms solitary decoration which was, as had to be assumed, a painting of Francesca. It was a picture of her sat at a desk writing something.

"This room was once a school room for young members of the Crawthorne family." Syanna had seen where I was looking. "We were originally going to use it as a similar purpose for those members that we were taking in, for whom their reading, writing and mathmatical skills were not quite up to where we wanted them to be.

"And now?" I wondered.

"And now we use this place to talk about Jack. To try and see a pattern or to try and guess what's going on."

I nodded and picked up a piece of paper from the table. It was a map of what looked like a village or a small town of some kind. There were several crosses on it, marked in red ink.

My stomach roiled and my collar suddenly seemed to tight.

"Lord Frederick... Freddie." Syanna began. "I know that you have been unwell and took a beating yesterday, mentally as well as physically. If there was any other way then..."

I shook my head and waved her off as I tossed the first piece of paper aside and picked up another. It was the descriptions of the injuries found on one of the victims.

"I just, you look as though..."

"I don't know why." I told her. "But I am struggling to be comfortable in these clothes today. I feel as though they are too tight. I can't breathe. I can't move properly."

She nodded and gestured to Captain De La Tour who went over to the windows and opened one. I went over and stood next to the fresh air, gulping down huge swallows of the fresh air. Somewhat spoiled by the fact that the window was overlooking the stables. Not as bad as you might think. The smell of horses always reminds me of time spent among the horses at home.

I wondered if Ariadne would let me build a stable in Angral. I had not been fond of the passtime when I had been living in my father's house, but the smell suddenly made me think of home. Not Coulthard castle, not Angral, nor even Oxenfurt. But the nebulous concept of home.

"Should we get started?" Captaing De La Tour tried again.

"We should." Syanna agreed. "But there is one piece of business that I need to deal with first that cannot wait and I don't want to forget. I need to strike when the iron is hot shall we say."

Captain De La Tour wears his heart on his sleeve and even though I was looking out the window, I swear that I could feel him frown at what the King Commander said.

I watched as I saw a horseman ride up and a groom take the horse. The horseman dismounted and took the time to help the groom take the saddle off the horse and rub the horse down before seeing to the food and water before leading the horse into the stable. I approved and I rather thought that Father would have approved as well. The stables needed more room to be a proper horse farm but what space they had was being properly used.

My thought process was interrupted when there was a knock on the door to which the Knight Commander called out to enter and two young men came in.

"You called Commander?" The first man was wearing chain mail. I got little of an image of him really. I got the feeling that he was a few years younger than me. No younger than sixteen. He had a round face but that was partly due to the armour that he was wearing that betrayed that feeling but also because of bone structure. He had a large jaw with a cleft down the middle and the kind of nose that other people call "aristocratic".

The other man was wearing a shirt over a pair of trousers. There were bracers on his arms as well but otherwise, he was relaxed. As though he seemed to think that the effort of wearing chain mail was more than it was entirely worth. Both men had pendants on that were shaped after the silhouette of the statue of the Angelic figure of Saint Francesca. He was dark haired and looked as though he had lost a lot of weight recently and I wondered if this was because he was that much younger and the weight that he had lost was his childhood weight.

"Gaspard." The Knight Commander began. "Did Master Witcher Kerrass approach the Knights the day before yesterday in order to offer his services in the hunt for the murderer and rapist that people are beginning to call Jack."

"Ma'am?"

"Answer the question Gaspard." Captain De La Tour commented.

"No Ma'am."

"Then why does the outpost log show that he approached the chapterhouse, stayed for an hour and then left?" Syanna asked.

Gaspard, shifted a little. "Ma'am. I felt that it was important that the Knights of the Saint are seen to be standing on their own two feet Ma'am. And that we did not tneed the help of the... Witcher Ma'am."

"What were you going to say Gaspard?"

Gaspard said nothing.

"Were you going to say Non-human Gaspard?"

The other, younger man, shifted his weight slightly.

"So the Witcher did offer his help?" Syanna asked again without raising her voice.

Gaspard sighed and nodded.

"Answer me Gaspard." Syanna did not raise her voice but there was a certain "hissing" quality that showed her displeasure.

"Yes he did." Gaspard admitted unhappily. I guess it was more because he got caught rather than anything.

Syanna nodded. "Why didn't you accept the help that was offered?" She wondered, back in her normal tone of voice.

"The Knights of Saint Francesca need to be able to stand on our own feet." The young man repeated quickly and with more than a little passion, as though it was some form of religious doctrine. "We don't need his, or anyone else's help to catch this fuck and string him up by his balls."

"There's a lady present." De La Tour commented.

"Beg pardon Ma'am." Gaspard bowed towards Ariadne who's face had gone still. Not because she was angry or upset. But more because I think she was trying not to laugh.

"It is not a weakness to ask for help Gaspard." Syanna told him, "It shows strength to know where your weaknesses are and ask for that help. It is the mark of a weak man who ignores the problems."

"Yes Ma'am." He looked a little chagrined.

"However, I cannot ignore the fact that you lied to me. Nor can I ignore the fact that his presence wasn't noted in the log. You are relieved of your post for the failure to note the log properly and bring the Witcher's offer to our attention."

"Yes Ma'am." To be fair, he didn't seem angry. More resigned.

"And you will report to the stables for twenty hours of duty in addition to your normal training and responsibilities, for lying to me just now as well as your attitude towards the Witcher. Further to that, you will act as my page when I am at the chateau for the next week for checking my orders with Captain De La Tour. Dismissed."

The young lad saluted and left.

"Etienne?"

The younger man stepped forward and saluted, a little sloppier in his salute than Gaspard I thought.

"Ma'am."

His attitude reminded me of the drill Sergeants back home. I strongly suspected that this much younger man could not give a rats arse what other people thought. Including the Knight Commander. I found that I liked him.

"You are currently assigned as Gaspard's second are you not?"

"I am."

"Did the Witcher arrive and offer help?"

"He did Ma'am."

"What did Gaspard say to the Witcher?"

"I do not recall Ma'am." He didn't blink, he just stared straight ahead.

"Did he instruct you not to say?"

"I do not recall Ma'am." He repeated.

"Did he order you not to place the entry in the log?"

"I do not recall Ma'am."

"Did you offer any advice to him?"

"Yes Ma'am." I thought I detected a slight relaxation on the part of the lad.

"What was that advice?"

"I told him that he should note the presence and escort the Witcher to either your presence or to the presence of Sir Guillaume if you were asleep Ma'am."

"Why didn't he?"

"I do not recall Ma'am."

Syanna nodded. "Your punishment will be that you will take over Gaspard's watch as Knight in command of the door. I expect you to perform your duty."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Find Sir Guillaume and sent him up here. You are then dismissed to your duties which will also include spreading the news that Lord Frederick Coulthard was not aware that we were seeking his aid and as such is not to be blamed for not coming. He is here now and has promised his aid."

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am."

He left.

Syanna sighed and deflated a little. "Damien," she began. "Thank you for your help in reminding people that they answer to me but..."

"I know." De La Tour commented. "I shouldn't have interfered. It was a reflex. I apologise."

Syanna nodded. "I just want to wait for Guillaume as he was one of the first people involved in all of this and I want to nip the rumours about Freddie not wanting to help us in the bud."

Ariadne looked around and found a chair in the corner where she sat down, crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, doing her best to look serene and uncaring. Kerrass picked up a piece of paper, seemingly at random and started reading it. He can't have got very far because he soon threw it aside in disgust.

I noticed that neither Captain De La Tour, nor Knight Commander Syanna approved or disapproved of these actions and I assumed that was because there was little or no order to what was going on in the room.

I gave up and turned to look out the window again to watch the people out in the yard.

There were several pairs of swordspeople going at it under the stern gaze of someone that I rather thought I recognised as being Lord Palmerin. He was walking around with a long cane in his arm. I couldn't quite tell what he was doing but I saw him watching one pair closely. I guessed them to be a boy and a girl when he ordered them to stop as both of them froze in place. Palmerin walked up to one and placed the end of the cane in one combatant's chest and pushed sharply so that the boy fell over.

Even at this distance, I could tell that Palmerin was displeased about something.

I could almost imagine him ranting and raving something about balance.

The door to the office opened and the crash caused me to turn in time to see Sir Guillaume enter the room.

He is not as big as sir Gregoire is but he is all muscle and that gives him a feeling of physical domination over the rest of the room. He was wearing a shirt and trousers with only a pair of leather bracers on his forearms. His sword was on his belt with a fighting dagger on the other side. He had clearly been sweating and if I had to guess, I think he had come in from some form of training exercise.

It was clear that he was tired as well. Not the physical kind of tired. Guillaume gives the impression of being the kind of man that never gets physically tired. But more a mental kind of fatigue. Like the Knight Commander and, now that I was looking, like Captain de La Tour, it was clear that he had not been sleeping properly. It was as though a great weight of worry was resting on his shoulders as well as, I rather thought, a sense of guilt that I could not identify. Fortunately I didn't have to wait for long to get an answer as to why he might be feeling guilty.

He slammed to attention and saluted as he got to the table. I honestly don't think that he had even realised the rest of us in the room.

"You sent for me Knight Commander." he barked. Yes, I used exactly the right word there.

"I did and..."

"May I ask if you have finally agreed to my request that I be assigned to the Knights who are protecting my wife Ma'am?"

"I have not. Your talents, skills and expertise are required elsewhere."

Guillaume is not a man that can hide his emotions and his face twisted in disgust before eventually resignation set in as he sighed and nodded. Which is when he surveyed the room and saw me.

To my astonishment there was a sudden flash of rage in his eyes and his face twisted again in anger as he took a step towards me.

"How dare..." He began.

"SIR GUILLAUME." Syanna snapped. "You will allow me to explain before you say something you will regret."

Guillaume practically vibrated with the desire for violence. His hands gripping the air.

I was appalled and had taken a step back. I was hurt as well as I had thought this man my friend but the look of anger and violence in his face was truly... It was frightening.

Panic was scrabbling at my throat.

"It has been made clear to me, to my satisfaction." Syann went on, speaking slowly and clearly. "That Lord Frederick had no idea that we needed or wanted his help. As we know, Lord Frederick has been ill and is still recovering from injuries that he has suffered during his time on the road. It was decided by his caregivers that our requests for aid should be kept from him in an effort to prevent him running around the countryside potentially compounding his injuries."

Guillaume absorbed that.

"I may say that Lord Frederick is easily as incensed as the rest of us at this fact. Possibly even more so."

She could not have had a more profound effect if she had tried. A look of abject horror crossed his face followed by a look of shame. He actually staggered backwards.

"I...I..." He turned away. As though he could not look at me. Literally as though I was some kind of horrifying symbol that scarred his eyes.

He turned away for a moment and covered his face.

I looked over at Syanna who was keeping a carefully neutral expression while Captain De La Tour was looking at Sir Guillaume with sympathy in his eyes.

I rather thought that Syanna was trying not to laugh.

People of Toussaint, of which Sir Guillaume de Launfal is undobutedly a paragon example which I say with all the love in my heart, are an emotional people.

Kerrass was frowning slightly I think while Ariadne was remaining calm.

Guillaume turned abruptly and threw himself to his knees at my feet.

"Lord Frederick." He wept. "I have betrayed you, a friend so newly won, and I see now that I was wrong. I apologise to you. I apologise for believing you to being a false and cowardly piece of scum. I apologise for saying so in those times when I was not on duty to all who would listen. I am a weak man sir and I was caught up in strong emotions that I could not and cannot control."

I had felt my mouth open in stunned amazement.

"I do not have the right." Guillaume went on before he sniffed hugely. I could literally see the tears spilling from his eyes. "I have neither the right, nor the expectation of your forgivness. So all I can offer is my blade to your service so that I might redeem myself in the blood of your enemies. I shall leave now, from this place, to begin this quest by removing the head of Sir Raoul LeBlanc who I understand has done you..."

"I think you might have to get in line for that." Kerrass commented dryly. "Several people in this room, Freddie not least, owe that fucker some pain."

"Please stand up Guillaume." I pleaded. "Please stand up." I took him by the arm and tried to tug a man who weighed twice what I did at that time, and all of it muscle, to his feet.

"Guillaume, what happened?" I asked.

He allowed himself to be lifted to his feet and scuffed the tears from his eyes in exactly the same way that a five year old does, using the balls of his hands. Not helped by the fact that he was sniffling and snuffling hugely.

Remember that this man is older than me.

"Vivienne was attacked." He said simply and my stomach fell away. "Vivienne was attacked and I immediately went out to try and find the vermin to bring them to justice. I wanted to put together a hanse of my closest friends and they wouldn't let me in to see you, telling me that you were indisposed which means that you didn't want to see me. Then the first victim of Jack was found and...

"Guillaume I didn't know." I told the sobbing man. A flame kindled in my heart then. It was a small flame, very small, painfully small. But it was there. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She fought off the wretches herself and escaped." A sense of vicious pride was in his voice at that. Then another look of horror came over him. "I must go. I must tell her that you were..."

"She knows." Syanna told him. "I sent messages out while Lord Frederick was getting ready earlier this morning.

"When did this happen?" I demanded.

"Sam had left that morning." Ariadne told me. "I must beg your forgiveness too Sir Knight." She said. "I did not make the decision. But as far as I was concerned, being indisposed means that a person is ill."

"And I was very ill that night." I told him. "I could not have come with you. I was sedated and woozy and overcoming a significant fit."

Guillaume nodded unhappily.

"My friend." I tried again to get through to the big man. "I must attend to this matter first. But when that is dealt with, we shall find these... utter cretins and bring them to justice if we can."

He nodded. "I am grateful Lord Frederick. But they cannot be found. It is like they vanished into the darkness."

I nodded.

"Then if you need me, do not hesitate to..."

He pulled me into a hug. I could no more have resisted than I could stand in the way of an avalanche. He kissed me on both cheeks. "I will never doubt you again my friend." He told me.

"Not so fast," I tried for a joke. "I have, in the past, been known to be incredibly stupid."

Kerrass sniggered.

"Well," Captain De La Tour was obviously getting impatient. Another man who wears his heart on his sleeve. "Now that that's over with, maybe we can..."

I looked for that small flame that I had felt earlier. It took some doing but I found it, just there, behind where my heart was.

"Wait." I said and rolled my shoulders. There was an itch just between my shoulder blades. Flame but this shirt was uncomfortable. "You have said that you want my help." I looked at Syanna who was watching me closely. "I have spent too much time with a Witcher, be specific please. What do you want me to do?"

De La Tour looked unhappy as he and Syanna exchanged glances. But he nodded his deference to the Knight Commander.

"There have been four victims." She said. "Women in different parts of Toussaint, two of which were in Beauclair itself. The women were raped before they were murdered. There were cuts made on all the bodies. Witnesses describe hearing someone laughing uproariously nearby. Other witnesses have seen a figure resembling Jack near the sites."

I felt a shiver that made my fingers tingle. "All of that is interesting, but why come to me?"

There was another exchange of looks between the two of them.

"There are two possibilities." Syanna continued. "The first is that this is Jack or a Jack surrogate like the one that was here last year. The second is that this is a copycat of some kind. If it is the first, then we need to marshall and drive him off. The last time that this was attempted cost the lives of many fine men and we could do with your advice. If it's a copycat, then we are pursuing someone who is using the trappings of Jack to commit his crimes and to kepp people afraid. Despite the rumours to the contrary, we cannot pursue both avenues. We need to be able to focus our efforts. Fortunately, I have a resident expert in the Jack phenomenon to help us narrow our search."

I nodded.

"Then you should know that I come as a package deal." I told them. De La Tour frowned. Syanna clearly couldn't give a damn.

"Kerrass is the investigator." I told them. "everything I know about investigating anything that happened more recently than fifty years ago, I learned from Kerrass. I'm a historian, not a detective. He is going to be asking most of the questions and he is also the first person that identified "Jack" to me and as such, he may have insight that I lack. He comes with me everywhere, no exceptions, no private talks, no, "Lord Frederick can we just go somewhere more private to discuss..." Kerrass is with me every step of the way or we head back to the palace and my entire family leaves through the gate. Immediately."

De La Tour stiffened. Syanna didn't shift. Guillaume was next to me so I didn't see what he did.

"Do not get me wrong." I told them. I want to help. I need to help. But this is what help looks like. You don't get to ask my help and then dictate how that help arrives. Kerrass taught me that."

Syanna nodded.

"Ariadne comes too." I said. "Comtesse de Angral as is."

"She is a vampire and is far less acceptable than..." De La Tour began.

"No offense meant I take it." Ariadne commented from the corner of the room.

"Not at all Madam. But Toussaint remembers."

"De La Tour..." Syanna snarled.

I winced. The shouting and the loud noises were too much and I suddenly had the distinct image of drawing my dagger and slitting my own throat with it. It was just a flash and I bellowed at the thought that that was enough.

Silence fell. It seemed that I had shouted aloud.

"Ariadne is here for me." I told the room. "I am sick. It is now clear that all though my health will improve, I will never entirely recover. Ariadne is there to make sure I do not injure myself, or others, over the course of trying to help. If she decides that I need to get some rest, or that I need to take a break. Her word supercedes everyone. Including me."

"How sick are you?" Guillaume asked, clearly a little shocked.

"Ariadne describes it better than I do."

"His brain is trying to kill him." She said simply. "His unconscious mind has convinced itself that a way to deal with all of his problems is to kill himself. If he is awake, calm and fully in control. Then he can fight these feelings off. If he is tired, stressed and acting on reflex and instinct, then these thoughts are more dangerous."

Syanna nodded. "Then that is acceptable. Are you well now Lord Frederick?"

I took a deep breath. The Flame was still there in the hollow of my chest. "I could do with something to drink. Maybe something fruit based?"

Syanna nodded and ordered her new page Gaspard to fetch some Grape juice.

"And please, as we're working together. Please call me Freddie."

De La Tour, Syanna and Sir Guillaume all nodded.

"Right then." I said, pulling out a chair, an action mirrored by Kerrass. "I suppose you should start at the beginning."

There was some exchanges of glances between Captain De La Tour and Syanna. I leant back in my chair and stretched out my legs, wincing as the fabric of the trousers caught on my boods meaning that I had to free up some gabric before I could get my legs straight.

For a moment, the weariness of the previous evening washed over me. I had been looking forward to another few hours in bed after all and now...

"We think that this started four nights ago." Captain De La Tour told us.

"Why only think?" Kerrass asked.

At first, De La Tour bridled a little before subsiding. "Because there was no sighting of Jack. The other three victims were all accompanied by some kind of sighting of Jack,"

"Or a figure that looks like Jack." Sir Guillaume put in. Syanna seemed to be content to lean back and let the others speak for her.

"Yes, looks, speaks and acts like Jack." The Captain of the Guard admitted. "But the state of the body was such as those other bodies were found in so we are working on the assumption that she was the first victim."

"So there are four victims?" Kerrass checked carefully.

"Yes." De La Tour snapped. "This really would go a lot faster if you would just let us talk."

"I appreciate..." I took another breath. "I appreciate that tempers are frayed." I said into the room. "I appreciate that patience is in short supply."

"I'm not sure that you do Lord Frederick." Syanna sighed. "The Knights have been slowly phased into activity under the guidance of Colonel Duberton and the 4th. This is not our first killer. But it is our first killer under our own command. We need this done."

"I understand that. And I understand that you have your own way of working. But Kerrass has been doing this since before either of us was born. Our methods are different to yours. What we think might be important is different to what you think might be important. You asked for our help. Let us help."

"No we didn't." Damien retorted but I got the feeling that it was more tired than angry. 'We asked for your help."

"Which is the same thing." I answered reflexively.

Silence fell, broken by the page, Gaspard, coming in with a tray of drinks. Guillaume poured one and passed it over to me.

"So there are four victims, we think." I prompted.

"Yes. One per night."

Something scratched at the back of my brain in the same way that an answer would hover just out of reach in an exam hall or in a seminar. Like those times, I knew that if I waited for it. It would come.

"The girl was named Appoline." De La Tour said. "She was a barmaid working at the Cockatrice inn on the bridge between Corvo Bianco and Dun Tynne Castle. By all accounts, she was a beautiful young lady and all who saw her or had anything to do with her, loved her. According to the innkeep of the Cockatrice, she had worked until closing time, helping him throw out the last of the heavy drinkers and performed her normal duties of sweeping and mopping the floor as well as stacking firewood for the ovens the following day, washing the empty bottles for reuse and getting as much done as possible for the following day so that it wouldn't need doing.

"As was normal, she left for home a couple of hours after midnight. She was wrapped in her normal cloak and wore heavy boots and mittens against the cold as well as having her long hair tied up in a wrap.

"She left the inn with a lantern in hand and was, as far as the innkeep is aware, making her way home."

"Right." Kerrass leaned forward and cutting off the flow of information. "Let's get some of the obvious things out of the way. Did the young lady have any romantic interests?"

"Everyone and no-one. She was Seventeen and not yet in a position to marry as her mother was ill and her father didn't want her to leave home yet as she was still needed to look after younger siblings."

"Did she resent this?" Kerrass wondered.

"According to our questioning the other siblings, she did a little. Her family is a fishing family and they help maintain the nets that provides the Cockatrice with Crayfish for it's chowder. Her father loved her a great deal and although his eldest daughter had already left home, it seemed as though he was particularly attached to Appoline. Since his wife's illness, it would seem that Appoline has become a surrogate... mother figure to her younger siblings and performing many of the duties of a wife to her father."

"Including Conjugal ones?" I wondered.

"Not as far as we could tell." Syanna responded to my question as Captain De La Tour's mouth twisted in distaste.

"So she had no lovers." Kerrass checked.

"No." De La Tour took up the narrative again. "Plenty of hopefuls and more than one person had asked her father for permission to woo the young lady but so far, all efforts had been turned down. According to the Innkeeper of the Cockatrice, Appoline was beginning to be resentful of this. Like a lot of Toussaint women, she was looking forward to having some romance in her life. While also beginning to be concerned that she was getting too old for such things."

I saw Syanna give the Guard Captain a look. A look to which he was completely oblivious, or ignored. I still can't quite tell what's happening in his head regarding Syanna's interest.

"She was otherwise happy at work. She seemed to take her job as a way of being able to escape her home life. The Innkeeper was particularly heartbroken, not only because more than one of his patrons were regulars because it meant that they could spend time trying to woo the un-wooable barmaid. He also hoped that, if the state of affairs regarding Appoline's love life continued a little further, then his son would be of marrying age. Which in turn would mean that she could be persuaded to marry his son and then the inn would be known to be in good hands."

"Did the son know of this?"

"He did, but the lad is still only fourteen and still sees girls as being nice as an abstract concept, but finds them..." he rotated his hand as he reached for the word.

"Terrifying?" Syanna suggested.

"Overwhelming would be another good word to use." De La Tour agreed, completely missing Syanna's leer.

To be clear, Syanna was tired. She was teasing the good Captain out of habit and to prove to herself that she was still alive rather than actually wanting to pursue her normal goals. Or at least, that was my view on the matter.

"So what happened?" Kerrass prompted.

"In the early hours of the morning, Appoline was found tied up in one of the lower fields of Corvo Bianco, just before it turns into the next vinyard over. Her hands had been tied with her scarf and she had been gagged with her mittens. She had had her clothes torn from her body and she lay exposed to the elements. It was clear that she had been raped before she had been mutilated... horribly. Several of her internal organs had been stacked next to her."

I felt myself lean forward. "How did she die?"

"I would have thought that..." Damian was frowning.

"No, I mean, what killed her? Did the mittens in her mouth suffoctate her. Was she clubbed unconscious and one of the blows killed her. Was it the mutilating, blood loss? What happened to her was horrific but what killed her?"

"We are unsure." Syanna admitted.

"Was an autopsy performed?" I wondered.

"No. We do not have anyone in Toussaint at the moment who could perform such an act. When such matters are confusing we would normally call upon Lord Geralt or Lady Yennefer to perform such a thing. As both are elsewhere..."

"Can Lady Vigo..."

"She informs me that her expertise lies elsewhere."

"Do we still have access to the body?" Kerrass asked before I could.

Syanna shook her head. "At the time, we were more worried about the attack on as that could have been an attack on the Duchess herself or part of some kind of treasonous plot. Appoline's death was a rape and a murder. It was not the first that we have dealt with in Toussaint and it will not be the last." She sighed sadly.

"A Couple of knights were starting the investigation but the truth is that we were not paying that much attention at the time. In other cases like it, the attacker is normally quickly apprehended. Either because they boast in the wrong time and place, believing themselves to be above the law. Which happens when some Nobleman or so-called Knight takes the fancy of a commoner and sees it as their right to take such things.

"The other option is that it was a spurned lover that went too far in which case, guilt and grief will either cause a confession or will change someone's behaviour to the point where guilt becomes obvious. We were still expecting that to happen for several days. It was only later, with the benefits of looking back, that we think that this was the first victim."

I nodded, it all made sense. "So much for all crimes and victims being equal." I commented before I could stop myself.

Damien shifted uncomfortably but Syanna smiled unhappily. "Believe me Lord Frederick. That discussion has been had."

"Call me Freddie would you?" I reminded her. "We are working together now."

Syanna smirked slightly while Damien frowned a little. I have no idea why although I will say, rather unfairly, that his face seems rather built to frown, not smile. Guillaume had appointed himself servant and was pouring everyone drinks.

"Alright." Kerrass went on. "Lets ask some more obvious questions. Was the field where she was found on her way home?"

"A little out of the way." Damien said. "She would take the footpath along the banks of the river on the Corvo Bianco side. Something that would have been impossible only a year ago but one of the benefits of having a resident Witcher is that he has been able to cut the local drowner population down to almost nothing. Corvo Bianco is possibly the safest place in Toussaint to go for a midnight stroll. Something which, much to the amusement of it's Lord and Lady, have rather turned the place into the Toussaint Lover's Lane."

I carefully managed to avoid looking at Kerrass when he shifted his weight slightly.

"It would certainly not be too far for someone to drag her there." Damien finished.

"How well known was her route home?" Kerrass asked.

"Pretty well known."

Kerrass nodded. "One last question before we move on. Was she killed where she was found or was she moved?"

Damien brightened. "There was plenty of blood around the place so we think she was killed there."

"I don't suppose you noticed any other injuries about her person did you?" Kerrass asked, making a lie out of his former statement. "Rope marks, beating bruising?"

"Nothing we could see. She had plenty of other injuries and, to be fair, we weren't really looking."

Kerrass sighed.

"Right. Who was next?"

"Next was a young lady by the name of Rosaline Donnet?" Syanna told us. "Which is where we hand over to Sir Guillaume."

I shifted in my seat so that I could see the burly knight with my own two eyes. He had changed. He was now the cold, remote and stern Knight of his profession. The emotional man of not all that long ago had vanished.

"I wanted something to do." He said. Vivienne was refusing to go into hiding after a kidnapping, or worse, attempt and insisting that she would not cower in fear. Her guard was ordered doubled, there was no sign of the men that had attacked her and as a result, I decided that I needed to work. The thought of continuing to work on the protection detail of the Coulthard family was distasteful after their earlier rejection and as such, I decided that I wanted a job. That and the fact that Jack had been sighted meant that a more experienced hand was required. I took my squire and went to investigate the matter."

I nodded, the extra context wasn't needed but it helped a little.

"Miss Donnet was a younger lady of sixteen years of age who lived in the village of Fox Hollow. She was known to be studious and uninterested in worldly things. She had stated her desire, early, that she wanted to go off and become a servant of the prophet. She had chosen the convent of the Prophet's progress on the Southern pass of Toussaint as her intended site of spiritual fulfillment. Her parents were not averse to the idea as it meant that they wouldn't have to pay a dowry, but they had decreed that she must wait until her eighteenth birthday in order to ensure that she would not miss the things that she would leave behind."

"Boys. A normal life." Syanna suggested helpfully with another playful leer at Captain De La Tour.

"Her mother was of the opinion that what Miss Donnet really wanted was a proper and full education. Her parents couldn't afford to send her to a University and she was hungry for knowledge. She and her friends took great delight in buying whatever books they could and then swapping them among themselves to help with the education that their parents couldn't afford. Miss Donnet had the largest collection amongst the lot although her friends admitted that this was largely due to her preference for academic reading rather than stories of adventures and heroes.

"She had a full collection of Lord Fredericks academic works for example, but not of the travel journals."

"Huh." I said.

For the uninitiated, that is unusual. The Academic pieces are written with a view that I am writing for textbooks and things. Using the prose to speak to fellow academics rather than the kind of thing that you have in your hand. Here I am recording my adventures, hoping to entertain and, if I am really lucky, I might get some education in there as well.

Academic writing is not meant to be read like you would read a book. It is meant for a person to get the book, look for the bit that they want in the contents pages or index, and then read accordingly. If you tried to read it from cover to cover, you would get bored and, even if I do say so myself, fall asleep.

My old Professor used to say that the best bits of the academic books of the world are the beginning and the end. The beginning because that is the bit where the author tries to convince you that his work is important and interesting. And the end because you have the elation of the fact that the damn thing is over and done with. My experience is that he is largely correct.

"So, Miss Donnet and her friends had been at a party down by the river. Fox Hollow is partly a fishing village, but also partly one of the places where the stone that is being removed from the quarry is loaded onto barges so that it can be floated off to wherever it needs to go. The entire village is very conscious about it's dependance on the water."

"It's also important to understand that Fox Hollow used to be a bandit refuge before the night of the Long Fangs." Syanna pointed out. "It's liberation from those bandits is due to the fact that those self same bandits decided to try and extort some money from a Witcher that just wanted to ride through."

"Amazing how often that happens." Kerrass muttered.

"Yes. Well it's another reason that Lord Geralt is almost worshipped in Toussaint. So when you go there, my advice would be to play up the connection if you can. We had some issues there because we aren't Geralt of Rivia and they expect Geralt to solve all their problems for them."

I snorted.

"But as I say." Guillaume took the floor again. "Miss Donnet and her friends were having a party at the water's edge. There was a bonfire, toasting chestnuts, mulled wine and ice-skating. They still do business on the water's edge but now it's done with sledges rather than barges. Regardless, there was a party with young people enjoying the reduced work load that comes with winter.

"Our understanding was that a friend of Miss Donnet, A Miss Justine Renou was having some unwanted attention from one of the local boys. The matter was relatively innocent as these things go. From talking to the other friends, it is one of those situations where the boy has a crush on the girl, but is unsure what to do about it. So instead, he bullies her. The other friends agree that the matter had moved past the point of being kind of funny watching Miss Renou eviscerate the young man verbally and the entire thing had started to become a little uncomfortable."

"Where is the boy now?" Kerrass wondered.

"He is definitely innocent. My thoughts went in the same direction when I first looked into these events but he was part of the group that found Miss Donnet and had not been out of the sight of anything less than three people in the intervening time. Including people that don't like him and disapprove of his behaviour towards Miss Renou."

Kerrass grunted, frowned and then shrugged.

"As the party had stopped being fun, Miss Renou went to Miss Donnet and asked her to walk her home. Miss Donnet had been sat on the edge of the party anyway, reading by firelight."

"Not the best way to preserve someone's eyesight." I commented.

"No, and people had mentioned that to her on several occasions. But she always argued that it was better to lose her eyesight than it was to be stupid. Along with telling people that bad eyesight can be fixed with proper lenses. But a mind cannot. There would then be an argument that young men would not be interested in a girl that had to squint in order to see her lover, an argument that Miss Donnet would sniff at before ignoring it."

I smirked. I was finding that I rather thought I would have liked Miss Donnet.

"So the two young women walked home, arm in arm, to the inn run by Miss Renou's parents. They intended to steal a bottle of wine and stay up reading until they passed out asleep unconscious."

"Were the two women lovers?" Kerrass asked.

Guillaume shifted a little uncomfortably, but that was nothing compared to the frown of disapproval from the Captain in the corner.

Guillaume sighed. "I did ask. Checking with Miss Renou when I could ensure that her parents couldn't overhear. She claimed not. She had her heart set on one of the quarry workers. Apparently big muscles as well as the money that a quarry worker makes had turned her head enough. But the lad was not yet aware enough of the situation to act on it. According to her parents, the lad is a gentle giant type that doesn't want to hurt anyone and is actually afraid of the bully that torments Miss Renou so much, this despite the fact that he could easily plait the bully into a braid if I am any judge. He might have the message now though as the lad was waiting to be allowed in to see Miss Renou when she had recovered from her injuries."

"Injuries?" I asked, looking up.

"Yes." Guillaume sighed. "I keep getting distracted. Miss Donnet and Miss Renou were on their way back to the inn, Miss Renou a little tipsy and leaning on her friend rather heavily to Miss Donnet's amusement. Miss Renou describes hearing the sounds of running feet against the hard-packed dirt. She turned on reflex, expecting to see another friend from their circle of friends coming to join the young ladies slumber party, or her tormentor coming up with further jokes, insults and torments.

"She remembers a figure in a black cloak with white on his chest, whether a tunic, shirt or a waist coat is unclear. She freely admits that she was the better part of a bottle of wine in and the glance she had was sudden. She also remembers an absurd hat that shaded the figure's face. She had a sense of movement as he lifted his arm to strike at her and she shut her eyes out of reflex."

I felt myself frown.

"Miss Renou's injuries are consistent with someone doing their best to cave her skull in with a club of some kind. The local healer was in attendance and the girl is doing well but struggling with the normal problems of a head injury. What this means is that her memories of what happened next are not particularly useful. She remember's Miss Donnet trying to scream and the sounds of a scuffle. When you interview her, I would ask that you be gentle with her as she rather blames herself. She realises that if she had just screamed then someone would have noticed but she says that it simply didn't occur to her."

"I've been hit in the head." Kerrass said. "It makes you do weird things."

"You might do well to tell her that."

"I will."

"The events of after that are a little more confusing. It would seem that Miss Renou's more aggressive admirer, a Master Jules Monteil, had indeed, worked up his courage to continue his torment of Miss Renou and gone off to follow Miss Renou backed up by a liberal dose of Dwarven courage and the support of a couple of cronies."

Guillaume sighed "It is very easy to paint Master Monteil as being a horrible young man, but the truth is that he reacted to the situation well and is now considering joining the Knights. I will admit that I would sponsor him if it came to it."

"That's a little..." Syanna began but Guillaume held his hand up.

"I understand, not until this is all over. But he found Miss Renou in the street. She was crawling back towards the water. Blood running down her face and pausing every so often to throw up violently. One of Master Monteil's friends exclaimed that she was a wraith, that's how awful she looked.

"You can't live in so physical a place without seeing the odd injury or two and so the young man saw the injury for what it was and took charge of the situation, sending for Miss Renou's parents and organising a search for Miss Donnet. He took reasonable precautions. He insisted that the remaining ladies from the party stayed next to the village until older people could be roused from their beds and set a guard. He told searchers to be lighting fires for light and that no search party searched without at least four people in it."

"Good thoughts." Kerrass mused.

"I thought so. The adults came from their houses, took over and joined the search. The search did not take long as they soon found what they were looking for. They came round the back of one of the buildings that was with it's back to the undergrowth and they saw the shape of Miss Donnet lying on the ground with a dark figure crouching over her.

Guillaume sighed.

"There is no doubt that they handled this bit badly. One of the searchers that found this, was an uncle of Miss Donnet. They were also befuddled from being roused from their beds. Partly convinced that Master Monteil was exaggerating the danger and that Miss Renou had merely fallen and struck her head on something. So when they actually found what they were looking for, they panicked and shouted at the assailant."

"Handled it badly, but it was a very human response." De La Tour commented.

"It was." Guillaume agreed. "I doubt that I would have done any better in their place had our situations been reversed. But they shouted and stepped closer so that the light from the torches and the lanterns were able to illuminate what was going on.

The assailant looked up at them. He is described as... Hang on. I've got the written description around here somewhere."

Guillaume dove into the pile of paperwork on the table until, triumphantly, he came up with a piece of paper.

"He was a tall man, dressed in dark clothing as if getting ready for some kind of posh ball or something." We couldn't help but smile at Sir Guillaume's impression of a less educated accent.

"He wore a stupid hat, really tall it were and sat on his hed firmly as though he'd tugged it round 'is ears. He wore a long black cloak, black gloves, trousers and boots. But he had a white... tunic on. He wore a mask of sack-cloth over his face so that we couldn't see him properly. He had a large club in his left hand and a dagger in his right. When he saw us, we could see that his trews were open and he tucked himself back in as he stood up if you follow."

We could follow. The story was no longer funny. Guillaume sighed unhappily.

"According to those witnesses, Miss Donnet was on the floor with her clothing having been cut free but not entirely removed. We believe that this was due to a lack of time more than anything. The uncle of Miss Donnet shouted something about him getting off her. The witnesses say that he laughed and quickly leant down stabbed Miss Donnet twice before anyone realised what was happening. Then the figure ran off into the night laughing."

I sighed. I felt awful. My chest felt cold. It was a strange feeling. The rest of me felt perfectly comfortable but my chest felt cold. It was weird.

"Did she... Did she die straight away?" I asked, completely automatically.

"Yes." Guillaume answered. "I did see that body. The wretch had not finished with her before they were discovered. She, like her friend, had been clubbed unconscious before being dragged behind one of the buildings where her clothing was cut free. Half cut, half torn. Then, when they were discovered. He stabbed her in the heart. Twice, just to be sure."

He said that last rather bitterly and there was a pause as we all took that in.

"Some of the more brave," Guillaume began again

"Or more foolish," Syanna commented.

Guillaume paused before realising that the commander wasn't going to continue. "Gave a short pursuit before it became clear that they couldn't see, and that the attacker could be stood right next to them and they wouldn't know it. So they came back. There was a check for tracks but the area round there is quite stony so nothing could really be found as the... villagers pursuit had obscured anything that might be found by the time a professional tracker could get there. In the meantime, those people that had waited with Miss Donnet, were able to confirm that she had died almost instantly. There was nothing that anyone could have done."

There was some more nodding around the table.

"Was it a professional stab?" Kerrass asked. "Did the killer know what he was doing?"

Guillaume sighed. "I think so. The stab was clean with little or no tearing. The dagger was designed for that purpose, it wasn't an eating knife or anything of the kind. The killer knew exactly how to stab someone and where to stab someone in order to kill them. It honestly surprised me to learn that he felt the need to stab more than once."

"Spreading fear?" Damien suggested.

"Making sure? Maybe she knew something or might have known something?" Guillaume went on.

"Making a point." Kerrass thought aloud. "Letting the watchers know that he could have killed her at any time.

"Any could be true." I commented. "And all are in character for Jack. If it is Jack."

"If it is Jack." Syanna echoed

"Did Miss Donnet have any male admirers?" Kerrass wanted to know after that had been said.

"Plenty." Guillaume answered. "She was a beautiful young lady. Rather studious for some tastes but that sort of thing is a challenge to certain kinds of people."

"Do we know if she returned any of their attentions?" Kerrass continued with the line of questions.

"Her parents say not. She had made no secret of the fact that she intended to join a convent and had little interest in sampling life before that. She would drink but not to get drunk. She enjoyed food but she would be just as satisfied with a hunk of bread and an apple as she would with a banquet at the inn. She showed little to no interest in romantic assignations. Her friend, Miss Renou, claimed that she had no eye for anyone beyond an aesthetic compliment. She could recognise a good looking person, whether male or female, but felt no need to take it beyond that. She dressed relatively conservatively, not flouting any flesh but there is no denying that, like any, she would enjoy cooling off in the water over the summer."

Kerrass nodded. "Time for the horrible question." He said.

Guillaume sighed unhappily. "We had the body examined by the local herb woman. There was blood. She was a virgin when the fucker attacked her." The cursing sounded coarse in the mouth of the Knight.

We all winced.

I don't know why, but it's worse. The death of a young person is always awful. Always. Children are especially bad, especially when I've had to watch Kerrass bring the news of the child's death to the parents. It never goes well. Ever. Kerrass normally tries to arrange to have a friend or relative of the parents nearby when he has to deliver that kind of news.

It's never good.

But somehow, speaking personally, it's worse when you have to deliver the news of a young person. Eleven to Eighteen years old. A person just on the cusp of the rest of their lives. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because it's so easy to see myself in the place of the dead person. With all of their lives still to live and now there they are. Dead at the hands of a monster, whether a human one or a magical one.

Both swords are for monsters after all.

But worst for me is when I hear of a young woman being murdered. Worse again when she has been raped but there is a special horror when it turns out that she was a virgin when it happened. It takes a special kind of monster to do that.

It shouldn't be worse. It shouldn't. Rape should be the same as Rape. Murder should be the same as Murder. But for some reason it's worse.

That says something about me. I have no doubt that it's misogyny. Societal conditioning. The corruption of the virginal... blah blah. But I hate it. Kerrass would say that a Witcher has to keep themselves separate from the situation. They have to be, in order to see the entire situation as a whole. It's the other side of a Witcher's neutrality. Work on the facts, not the feelings. Separate yourself from what was happening and the anguish of the people that you are dealing with.

There are any number of reasons why this is so. The people might be deluded. The "monster" might be acting in self-defence or might be a victim in and of itself.

Kerrass has taught me well, even if it has taken a toll on the greater part of my mind.

But that was the moment when I decided that this fucker was going to die. Whether it was Jack, another person with some of Jack's powers, or an imposter of some kind. This was the moment where I decided that he was going to die. Preferably at my hand.

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't. A rapist and a murderer of a young virgin, is a rapist and a murderer like any other. It shouldn't make a difference. It shouldn't matter.

But it does matter and I would be lying if I said it didn't.

I felt my hands curl into fists.

I pulled at my collar and adjusted my belt a little tighter. Weird how a suit can be tight at the collar and loose at the waist. I wouldn't mind, but I had worn this stuff before at an outdoor picnic affair. But now it was uncomfortable.

"Right, how about the previous victim?." Kerrass said after a long moment before clearing his throat. He had been unaffected by this news, even as it made the rest of us feel uncomfortable. Sometimes, a Witcher's practised ability to separate themselves from everything that was going on can be a blessing that I envy them for. Even if nothing else.

"There was too much other blood to be able to tell the difference."

Kerrass nodded. "Right, any local suspects. I hate to ask on the grounds that I, and people like me, are often among the kinds of people that are taken for local suspects. Were there any suspects?"

"There were a few. There are always travellers on the road. Quarry mining is one of the few jobs that isn't seasonal in Winter. The new foreman is a sensible man and believes in a slow, steady and safe working method. Stone production out of the quarries has improved since then, but it is still dangerous work which pays well. So there are always foreigners, strangers and, with respect, non-humans that are there trying to make a living. Travelling away, travelling to...

"There were reports of a merchant caravan nearby. It turned out to be little more than a few peddlars that were travelling the roads together for safety but beyond that? Nothing."

Kerrass nodded. "I had to ask." He thought for a moment before scratching his head. "Alright, you wouldn't drag Freddie out here or scream "Jack" for an assailant dressed up. Nothing you've told us so far can not be explained by a normal, if monstrous, person dressing up as Jack in order to obscure their tracks. So there's more?"

"There is. But this is where I hand over to Captain De La Tour."

"The Knights and I communicate with each other on a regular basis." Captain De La Tour sniffed as he spoke. "We are not quite at a place where we are both happy with it and I suspect that if there weren't political things at stake, there would be a conversation had about folding the city and palace guard into the Knights Francesca." He sniffed again.

Where some people like Kerrass, have a vast variety of smiles that they can use for various purposes that can be made to impart various things, including statements, moods and humour. De La Tour seemed to have an array of sniffs. He could sniff derisively, condescendingly, as a signal to change the subject, in displeasure at what he was hearing or even with amusement. Truly he had an eloquent nose.

For another example, the number of different ways that Ariadne can say the word "Fascinating."

"So we knew," De La Tour went on, "about the first two attacks but as yet, we had no reason to believe that the two were connected other than the fact that both victims were assaulted, raped and murdered. Although it's not common, such horrific crimes are not so rare that two in as many nights are enough to garner comment. So the business of breaking up drunken fights, hauling workers, sailors and other people who prefer being drunk to having a full purse, catching smuggling rings and preserving the various monuments around the place had continued to take up most of our time."

"That and you were still working on seeing if there were any leads on who attacked Vivienne?" Guillaume prompted.

"Yes. That too, although we were all but confident that that ship had sailed. Although it is an uncomfortable truth that sometimes in such matters, you are more waiting for a criminal to make a mistake than you are for a new lead to present itself.

"The first of the investigations that I led before it was clear that we were all chasing the same... thing. Happened down at the docks near the "Belles of Beauclair" establishment."

"It's the main Beauclair brothel." Syanna supplied with a leer at the Captain. "If we're going to talk about the place then we can at least talk about what it is."

"Yes, well." Damien sniffed again. This time in discomfort I think. Syanna's continuing campaign of flirting by making him uncomfortable was kind of fun to watch. I also enjoyed how she knew exactly wen to push it, how far to push it and knew exatly when to stop. This conversation needed lightening up. Syanna had seen that and had supplied the moment.

The thing that I could never tell, not matter for how long I knew him as I never asked and he never told me, was exactly how much Damien was in the know about all of this. As I think I've said before, it takes a special kind of man to realise that he's the butt of the joke and to then be alright with being the butt of the joke for the benefit of everything going on around him.

I was never quite sure with Captain De La Tour. It could have gone either way really easily.

"You have to understand." He stopped and cleared his throat with a sidelong glance at Syanna. "You have to understand that "Belles" is more than just a place to go for a drink and some female company. Madame Isabelle is also the major agent for the sex and escort industry in Toussaint."

"What does that mean?" I sighed.

"It means that if a person, male or female wishes to go anywhere and needs a companion on his or her arm, then they get in touch with Madame Isabelle and the Madame arranges the matter. Or if a person cannot go to Belles for personal reasons, then they would send a facotor to Madame Isabelle to arrange a visit from a suitable person. It's not just for sex as well. She is also beginning to branch out into the art world so that when a paintor or sculptor needs a model to be able to properly capture this or that, then Madame Isabelle would be the person to capture. The Ladies and Gentlemen don't mind. It is often easier work to stand there naked and be painted than it is to be forced to make polite conversation."

Ariadne spoke up from the corner. "It was Madame Isabelle that put me in touch with Anne."

I nodded.

"Madame Isabelle is a power in Beauclair." Syanna said. "The worst kept secret in Beauclair and she is well aware of how powerful, but also how vulnerable that makes her. As a result, I understand she has a vault at the bank, which contains details of all the contracts that she has issued or held in the past. So she is also untouchable unless in the cause of treason. At which point the Duchy can seize the vault as well. So she is also absolutely discrete and has an agreement with us that if she ever becomes aware of any crime through her work, then she is under obligation to let us know. She has not given us reason to doubt her."

I nodded.

"Personally," she commented with a sly look at Damien. "I'm not the least bit ashamed. Sometimes it becomes necessary to blow off a bit of tension. Do you not find that true Captain?"

He sniffed and cleared his throat. The double gestures suggesting to me that he was especially uncomfortable with the way the conversation had gone.

"If you could possibly control your sense of humour," he suggested a little archly, "then we could do with getting back to things."

"I even hear rumour that the Empress herself occasionally has need to..."

"What we know." The Captain overrode her. She chuckled to herself a little before becoming calm, the intent was clear now that the break was over and it was time to get back to work.

"What we know is that there was one of the more exclusive courtesans that was in residence at the Belles that particular night. Her real name was Lorraine Gauthier but she was more well known as Fleur de Nuit."

"Flower of the Night." I guessed.

"Just so. She was an extremely popular lady. Isabelle gave us the details that she was a bastard of one of the old vinyard owners. She had run away to town at around the age of eleven when it had become clear at how beautiful a woman she was going to grow into and her father's friends and family were beginning to notice the young and pretty maid that was always around the place. She was taken in by Isabelle's predecessor at the Belles when it was just a Brothel, where she decided that life as a prostitute was not so bad.

"She used her experience around her father's manor house to be able to portray herself as a lady,"

"Which she was really." Syanna put in and I found myself nodding in agreement.

"And she used those skills as well as the learned skills regarding hair, makeup and wardrobe to help elevate the skills and the appearance of the women at the Belles. She was another architect of the rise of the sex industry in Beauclair from a dockside risky passtime, to a more accepted part of life and society.

"She presented herself as a lady. Often using a mask in order to hide her face. Not to pretend she was other than who she was. But so that her clients could pretend that they were sleeping with a noblewoman that was in disguise. They could convince themselves that they were screwing the Duchess, or some other man's wife. And so on.

"By all accounts, she was very good at her job and, as much as anyone can, she took a certain amount of satisfaction from her work. She was one of the first Courtesans of Beauclair that specialised in entertaining her clients while accompanying them on social excursions as well as time in the bed chamber.

"She was just passing thirty when she died. She was aware that her looks would not last and had worked sensibly to invest the money that she earned. She had a small house on the outskirts of Beauclair that she lived in when she was working and she also had a small Villa on the lake that she would retire to for a few weeks in the year to rest and recuperate."

"How well known was her wealth?" Kerrass asked.

"She was known to have her own residence in town." De La Tour went on. "But that was not unusual for the older, more successful, ladies in that line of work. The younger girls stay on site but the older tend to live away from the Belles. The easier to entertain regular clients and recover. She was also known to be a "big sister" figure to a lot of the girls and would regularly be the person that they would to go for advice, when Madame Isabelle was a little too distant for the purpose.

"One of her regular pieces of advice was to invest their earnings wisely. She would justify this with the argument that Beaculair does not have enough of a market to be able to be in competition with Madame Isabelle. Madame Isabelle is still a relatively young woman and as such, would not need to worry about a Successor for a long time. So what does a "working girl" do when she wants to retire and the punters don't come knocking as often as they used to."

"She was right too." Syanna added.

"So it is reasonable to assume that, even if the exact figure was unknown, then people were well aware that she was not poor. We are still getting stories out of some of her friends and peers as they are still coming to terms with it all, but also need to get use to the fact that we are not out to arrest them."

Kerrass nodded.

"So," De La Tour added. "She was a lady at the height of her powers. Wealthy, beautiful, no shortage of admirers and had was able to pick and choose her clients carefully. She had gone down to the Belles that night to socialise with some people, meet with some friends that were working that night, meet with some prospective clients. Madame Isabelle says that it was not a working night for her really. It was more a kind of... whatever the Courtesan version of military scouting is."

We all nodded.

"But Miss Gauthier was there, encouraging patrons to spend money and generally being a positive presence. But she had left relatively early that night before things got too debauched and so that she could get an early night as she was expecting to meet a client the following day for the first time.

"She left around midnight."

"That's not exactly early." I said aloud before remembering who I was talking about.

"It is in that line of work." Kerrass commented.

"She made a big fuss of leaving." De La Tour went on. "And stepped out into the night. There was no reason to suspect that anything was a problem."

"No escort?"

"None. This was not unusual, or so we are told. She went in disguise. She had partly grown up on the streets of Beaclair and where others might fear to treat. Miss Gaulthier was known and if anyone had attacked her, there would be plenty of beggars, sailors, thieves, merchants and more than a few noblemen that would see to it that vengeance would be swift. And it is well known that if someone attacks one of Madame Isabelle's girls then there is an instant gold reward for the perpetrator to be handed over, to Madame Isabelle, alive. It has only happened once. So Beauclair is one of the few places on the continent where Working Girls walk freely."

"But not that night."

"No," De La Tour sighed. "Not that night."

There was a moment of silent contemplation for that.

"The first we knew about it," De La Tour began again. "Was when one of the street people came into the Watch-house near the docks."

"What do you mean by street people?"

"People who... for one reason or another, fall through the cracks in our society." Syanna told us. "Beggars, homeless, the abused, the unwashed and unwanted. Diseased and the like. We have soup kitchens and shelters for them, but there is never enough space and never enough food to go round. A not insignificant part of the Ducal budget goes into these things as well as a lot of personal donations from wealthy citizens."

"More enlightened than some parts of the world." Ariadne mused. It was almost startling to hear her voice.

"Yes. But the opposite is also true. Certain kinds of people, who are exactly the kind of people that you think they are, like to harp on about how they are all just lazy people that live off the state and can't be bothered to get a job. This without realising that many of them do and still don't have enough money to rent a house or an apartment as well as buy other essentials like, you know, food.

"And there are still worse people that get off on victimising them. There are only so many jobs to go around that pay reasonably well. The other problem with our major national industry being wine production is that a lot of the work here is seasonal. So they all troop off to the fields in planting and sewing times, work themselves to the bone during harvest and then find it impossible to save their earnings during the winter.

"Because how can you save when you can't deposit in a bank. You can't use the bank without an address or someone willing to vouch for you. And who is going to vouch for the beggar on the corner that faintly smells of urine."

"We're getting off topic again." De La Tour told us.

"That we are." Syanna agreed. "It is a problem." She told us. "And it is not one that is going to go away. But it is nothing compared to what happens in Novigrad, Vizima or Vengerberg where there is no effort at all to help these people."

"I can believe that." I commented.

"So one of these people came to the guard post." Kerrass commented.

"Yes." Damien went on. "Dripping in gore and slime. He was known to us and was wanted in connection to a couple of petty burglaries. He is typical of the kind of people that the good Commander here describes."

Syanna made a face at him before he continued.

"We know that he was once a farm worker. He was young and handsome enough to catch the eye of the lady of the estate. She tried to seduce him, he declined because he was in love with a local girl and she accused him of rape."

"Another, not uncommon tale." Syanna interrupted with a twist of distaste on her mouth.

"He fled, but he was a fugitive for a while. Joined one of the bandit groups in the area in the way that a lot of people do. He was kicked out of the first group for refusing to rape a captive and they beat him for his insolance. He never really recovered from that beating. At some stage, he took to alcohol and petty theft as a way to numb the pain and came to Beauclair. He's the kind of man that will eventually get caught, spend some time in the prison, get let out, still not be able to find work and then he will commit crime again. Not a bad man, but he would be the first to admit that he has done some bad things."

I nodded, I had the image of the man in my head now.

"But he comes in. Dripping with blood. It takes an age to get his story out of him and the guard didn't want to believe him. So he snaps and bodily drags one of the guards to where the body was. He showed us the body. Showed us where Jack stood and with the warmth of the body, it was clearly impossible that a normal human would have made it to the roof for the blood to still be dripping from the blade and the body to still be warm. The wretch was weeping as he went."

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Borcha." De La Tour said. "There was a brief moment there where they suspected him of doing the deed before one of the guards managed to have a brain cell in his head and sent for me. The Commander had told me about the other attacks and I put two and two together to get the correct number. Borcha was obviously distraught. Stuck to his story and the phyhsical evidence on the scene was enough to confirm most of his story. The vomit was over the internal organs of Miss Gaulthier which means that he would have killed her, eviscerated her and then vomited over his handiwork. That and, after years of poor food and too much alcohol, although I could imagine Borcha knocking a woman down to take her purse. I could not imagine him stabbing and stabbing and cutting and cutting her like what happened to Flower of the Night."

"You speak as if you know the woman." Syanna teased him gently. It had the feeling of a gentle mocking, something that was done out of habit rather than any particular desire to taunt or upset.

"I did." De La Tour muttered. "I knew her enough to wish I could afford her. This before I rose to the position I am now and to do that would bring the reputation of Her Grace down low."

He looked embarrassed for a moment.

"I uh... I tried to rescue her from her life. She was very kind to a love struck young peasant knight like me."

Syanna laughed at him. "How gallant. I had no idea."

"Yes, well. We still have Borcha in the guardhouse. He's a broken man now. A shadow of what he was We wanted him with connection to two burglaries, but it is clear that he drank the proceeds of that away. Now? He gave himself up so that he could bring news of Jack's return to us. He knew that there would be penalties but he didn't care. We... uh... we have to watch him to make sure he doesn't kill himself. He's on the edge of things I think."

Kerrass nodded at that and looked at me. "Well, we'll want to talk to him."

There was more nodding.

"So what happened last night then?" I wondered. "Another attack?"

"Yes." De La Tour answered. "You may remember that it took some time for the carriage to get to you and pick you up from the party last night Lord Frederick?"

"I certainly remember that." Ariadne piped up again. "I was rather angry about that as I wanted to get Freddie to bed."

Syanna opened her mouth to make a joke.

"To sleep." Ariadne snapped.

"Of course."

Humour is a defense. I have seen it, I have used it myself. We were talking about dark and unpleasant things, no matter which way you cut it. We all knew it too. There was a lot to take in and a all of it was unpleasant and very dark. So we made jokes and it was then that Syanna decided that we had talked for long enough on an empty stomach before ordering her new page to go and get us some food.

"It's not much." She told us as we were brought several platters of sausages, cheese, bread, and fruit. Kerrass and I ignored this and set to the meal with gusto. I wrote, last time I was in Toussaint, I wrote that Toussaint cooking is delicious. Absolutely divine. However, it's over dependence on wines as cooking sauces can make it a little overly rich for my long term tastes. It's the kind of thing where sooner or later you find yourself longing for a good steak and some potatoes and an onion gravy.

Kerrass has trained me well when it comes to food, as with so much in my life, and I ate my fill. This despite not really feeling that hungry.

Syanna left for a while to "check on a couple of things" while the rest of us spoke to the Captain of the guard about Syanna's romantic intentions towards him. A conversation that ceased when Syanna returned and we got back down to business.

"We knew that something was happening by this point." Syanna took the narrative up again. "We had identified the three potential victims and we had spoken with each other as best as we could. We still weren't allowed to come in to see you for a consultation and Witcher Kerrass could not be found although our intelligence was that he was pursuing some monsters near some noble estates. Nothing unusual.

"We sent gallopers out to the major villages and vinyards insisting on a curfew and that no-one should be going out in groups smaller than three."

"How likely is that to be followed and enforced?" Kerrass wanted to know.

"Oh, ridiculously unlikely. I wanted to ask the Nilfgaardian forces who are still trapped here due to the passes being blocked, for help but Annarietta refused. Wanting The new Toussaint Knights and guards to handle the matter."

She scowled as she spoke and I could only guess at the argument that had raged between the two sisters.

"But at least we can depend on them to keep an eye out. The villages are not allowed to have their own militia's so they have invented a new term called "A vigilance committee"."

De La Tour snorted. "Lynch mob would be a better term for them."

"Unfortunately true. In theory it's a nice idea where the villagers keep an eye on each other in an effort to police their own and bring important matters to the attention of the Knights of Francesca. In practice they tend to take the law into their own hands."

"Meaning vagabonds and village outcasts have a tendency to become... guilty." Kerrass said flatly. "I have met many of these kinds of people in my travels."

"Precisely so." Syanna rubbed her eyes. "But Beauclair is an entirely different matter. There is absolutely no way that we can keep that under lockdown at the moment. Even if my sister would order such a thing. Which she won't."

I had a vision of yet another sibling row.

"So we did the best we could with what we had available. We set up check points and look outs. We expected another attack although we didn't know where and we didn't know when. We were especially nervous when we realised that all of this was going on at the same time as the huge party.

"And we were not wrong. This time the girl was attacked, sixteen years old, nearly seventeen. Youngest daughter of the Baron de Trastamara. Marie de Trastamara was her name."

"I'm going to take a guess at this." I started. "Young? Pretty?"

"And rich." Syanna agreed. "There are many men who were clamouring for her hand in marriage for all of those reasons although her father was having none of it. His wife died a few years prior to that in a hunting accident."

"Oh?" Kerrass raised his eyebrows.

"No, it really was an accident." De La Tour said. "The Duchess was aware of the stigma around "Hunting accidents" and assigned a Knight errant to look at the matter. The Lord was hunting down a boar while the lady was indulging in some falconing elsewhere. She was riding a new horse that was new to the stables. The Falcon screamed as it left her hand which startled the horse into throwing it's rider where she fell and broke her neck. The Baron was legitimately heartbroken."

Kerrass subsided.

"So yes." Syanna went on. "The Baron was refusing all suitors and keeping the girl back from everyone and everything to keep her from leaving the nest so to speak. I won't say that the girl enjoyed playing with this. She was certainly more than a little spoiled as the last child to grow up and leave home. But she certainly enjoyed being courted. Her Father's money would have been enough to snare a husband but given that she was also pretty, kind, charming and clever. It meant that the servants were fairly beating the suitors back."

"The less savoury element of this." De La Tour continued, interrupting slightly to Syanna's annoyance. "Was that there was a betting pool going on in the court to see who could take the young girls virtue. It actually got quite sinister at various points to the fact that her father had to hire a food and wine taster as a companion. So that if someone slipped her a love potion..."

Ariadne and Kerrass snorted in unison.

"Or some other kind of sleeping draught or something that would lower her inhibitions then it would be caught. She also never went anywhere without at least two guards."

"Did she resent this?" Kerrass wondered.

"Apparently not." Syanna spoke, glaring at De La Tour before turning back to us. "Rumour has it that there was an incident where she was trapped in a side room at a party with someone who was getting rather fed up with being told "no"."

Something was itching in the back of my head again. "Who was that?" I wondered.

"Who was who?" Syanna wondered.

I noticed that Kerrass had seen my excitement and had leant forward a little with a slight frown.

"Who was it that trapped her in a side room?"

"What are you thinking Freddie?" Kerrass wondered.

"I don't know." I admitted. "I'm rather out of practice at this."

Syanna nodded. "I recognise a hunch when I see one. Alas it was just a rumour. It wasn't all that long ago that her father started hiring guards. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday I think."

I leant back. There was something there. I had no idea what it was. I hated it. It made me feel like a new student. Someone who had just started the seminars. The moment of knowing that you know the answer but you have yet to gain the ability to be able to summon the information out of your subconscious when you wanted it to. I had hated it back then and I still hated it now.

"What happened?" Kerrass asked, presumably deciding that I wasn't going to solve the entire thing there and then on the spot.

Syanna and De La Tour looked at each other. "Our best laid plans failed us." Syanna admitted.

"How did they fail?" Kerrass leant forward. "Incorrect? Incomplete? Incompetent? Corrupted?"

De La Tour's face began to redden and I saw Syanna put her hand on his shoulder.

"We are still investigating that." She said.

"How possible is it that someone overheard something?" Kerrass wondered, gazing at them both intensely.

"Such things are always possible." Syanna responded. "Some of the Knights and guards were, and are, still refusing to believe that Jack might be back. It is possible that various people didn't feel that operational security needed to be as tight as we wanted it to be."

Kerrass nodded. "I have a sinking feeling." He said. "You had checkpoints didn't you. Lookouts and the like."

"We did."

"And you had to tell people where they were didn't you. Beaurocrats and the like. I bet you even did your best to make points in areas. Saying something like..." he rotated his hand. "Something like preserving the society on a night of a big party."

De La Tour started to go red. It's an odd shift of colour, going from the red of anger to the slightly pinker shade of embarrassment.

"And I bet." Kerrass went on. "I bet that certain people were able to bribe certain other people as to the locations of these posts to get goods through for personal luxuries, or so that they could preserve the surprise of their outfit at the ball. Or to... heh... preserve the fact that they were having an assignation with the lady who's house you had set up a guard post in front of."

Kerrass sighed, taking Damien's reluctance to speak as an affirmation.

"Then you should not be too hard on yourselves." He decided. "Nor on the guards, or Knights, that missed things. Where there is money involved, people will risk their lives on the grounds that "it could never happen to them." Geralt used to tell a story about a man who used to carry the plague victims from the villages in the countryside for money. Was making quite a bit of coin as well without even considering that he might get the plague as well. Guess what happened."

"Such petty corruptions are a way of life here." Syanna told us. "We know it, the Duchess knows it. We can chip away at things, lessen it and ensure that we do not fall for it. But beaurocrats are beaurocrats and they get into that line of work for the money."

"So there is no reason to suspect that the killer didn't know where the guard posts were." Kerrass went on.

"Or the victims..." Sir Guillaume had been silent for a while. For a big man, he certainly knows how to fade into the background. "She was out with her two guards that night and no-one saw her passing."

Kerrass nodded. "What happened?"

De La Tour spoke. "We know that Marie de Trastamara left home an hour after dark. Intending to arrive "fashionably late" to the party at Lady Orianna's house."

"The artist's ball." I checked.

"The very one. She wanted to make a bit of an entrance. While at the same time, having plenty of time to be able to enjoy everything that was going on. As was her father's decree, she was escorted by two of her father's guards. Hard men, well aware of how to use the weapons at their sides.

"The second best tracker in the Duchy works for me. The story he tells is this. Lady Marie and her guards were making their way to the party from the Baron's Beauclair townhouse. They were not being completely stupid. We know that they passed two of our look out points before they cut through some of the side streets rather than taking a massive detour by way of the main road. We believe that the trio was attacked at an intersection. The trio performed in the way that all bodyguard and principal teams should behave. One of the guards attacked the assailant or assailants in order to delay the attack and make room for the escape. The other guard took the Baron's daughter and ran in the other direction.

"The first guard fell almost immediately with a throat slash. Not exactly dead before he hit the floor but as near as makes no difference. The assailant could then be tracked from the blood splatter that he stepped in."

"I knew that guard." Sir Guillaume put in. "He was no slouch. I had tried to recruit him into the Knights but the Baron's money was rather more seductive to him than a lifetime of service."

I couldn't tell if Guillaume was being scornful or not.

"But," He went on. "His blade was unblemished, even under alchemical testing. Which means that he didn't even wound the attacker. The attacker must have been skilled in the extreme."

I nodded. Important information certainly.

"The attacker chased Lady Marie and her remaining guard for some distance before the blood was cleaned from his shoes in some of the muck that is part of the street in that area. We have no idea what happened to him then.

"The guard and Lady Marie dodged around the neighbourhood a little. We don't know why. Evasion maybe,"

"Or they were being chased and cut off." Syanna suggested.

"Or both. At some point there was another combat. We can show you the place and the other guard was wounded in the leg. Not badly but enough to slow him down. Speaking to some of the witnesses in the houses that lived nearby, we know that they tried to run on. One brave man and his wife offered a place to hide in their house. But the assailant, or assailants burst in and killed them both before Lady Marie ran on, from the state of things, pushed out the door by the last guard who decided to make a stand. According to my tracker, he died badly."

De La Tour swallowed and took a deep breath before moving on. "We found a blood splatter a few streets over. We think that Lady Marie was trying to make it home when the assailant caught up with her. She fell and hit her head on the wall which, we assume, knocked her unconscious."

"Assuming." I muttered.

"Yes." De La Tour snapped a little sharply. "Your aversion to assuming things is well known to us. However we also cannot help but notice how often you yourself assume things when it suits your purpose."

I shrugged. "It is not an unfair comment. However that doesn't mean that I have to like it."

Damien subsided. "I suppose not." He rubbed his head. "We know she was moved from that point to the place where she died. She was taken to the graveyard necropolis. Where she was... raped. At some point during this process she screamed which finally attracted the attention of the guards in the local watch area. They came into the Necropolis and found Jack, as described by you in your works as well as matching the description of the man found standing over the corpse of Flower of the Night, crouched over her, cutting into Lady Marie's body and removing the internal organs."

He spoke quickly and uncomfortably. Getting through the thing as fast as possible. I could well imagine why.

He stared at something that only he could see before shaking himself. "They acted the way that I would want them to act in any other situation, but this one. They shouted at him to surrender and to throw down his arms. He laughed at them. Stabbed Lady Marie one last time before turning and fleeing. Leaping up, over the graves before vaulting over the walls of the cemetary.

"The guards left a man with the body. It was clear that Lady Marie was already dead. Our field medic suggested that her throat had been cut shortly after she screamed. But the rest gave chase and they reached the top of the wall and gave chase."

He sighed again.

"What happened next is the reason that I, personally, am beginning to believe the possibility that Jack, in some form or another, has indeed returned. I still pray that I am wrong. But I think he's back and here is why.

"You have no reason to believe it. But my men are highly trained. I know that they, like all town guard, have a reputation for being lazy, unwashed and mildly corrupt. But that is an attitude and a reputation that I carefully maintain. We train, we drill and we push them hard and I will say that I am proud of each and every one of them.

"I have been in that graveyard and necropolis. Those men have literally shown me where they saw Jack and where he went over the wall. They have also shown me how quickly they themselves, in all their kit and gear, could get over the wall. I could not do better myself."

"I have seen the same and have tried the same." Sir Guillaume added. "I must concur with Captain De La Tour on this."

"Yes, well." The Captain gave another one of his sniffs. "Jack did not have a long lead. Yes, I will call him Jack now. According to those guards, he was quick over the wall but not so quick as to cause comment. But when my lads got to the top of the wall. They could see Jack still accelerating down the street. He left them in the dust.

"They tell me that he was laughing as he went.

"After that, what's a good guardsman to do but they gave chase. They blew their whistles and rang their bells and they gave chase. They watched as he darted down a side alley and when they came round the corner, he was stood on the top of a nearby roof. He bowed to them and laughed. No... human, elf or otherwise could do that. There was no sign of any portal used and if there was a portal then which up to the rooftop, why not away.

"He was toying with them. He led them on a chase through the city. Some men joined from other guard posts. Some dropped out when they found that they could not go on. Good men all. And just when they thought that they would catch him. He would laugh and dart round a corner, or up a wall or vanish and reappear elsewhere in a puff of smoke and a flash of light."

He was starting to become agitated, Syanna turned away from him. Her own face was unhappy and drawn.

"No human could do that." He went on. "No mage either. And I fought Vampires. With Vampires there is smoke but it billows. And flows. And Vampires can be seen jumping to the roof tops. You can track them. Jack would just vanish behind a wall and reappear elsewhere.

"And he laughed. He just kept laughing."

De La Tour was showing real signs of distress now. Enough that Syanna put her hand on his arm.

"He just laughed at us."

(A/N: Chapter got out of hand. Nowhere near where I wanted it to end but for those of you that ACTUALLY COMPLAINED with the shorter chapter. This is what you get. ;P

Also, thanks for everyone that commented and reviewed. I am not going to start appealing for reviews but they are and were appreciated. I just wanted to say that again as well.

Stay safe out there folks. The world is literally on fire at the moment and it would be heartbreaking if anything happened to any one of my friends in Fanfiction. And for the record, if you are reading this, then you are my friend.

Yes, even if you hate it.

Thanks for reading guys and again, stay safe out there)