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

132. Chapter 132

(Warning: There is some explicit talk about sex here. No lemons but two characters talk about sex in quite a lot of detail that might make some people uncomfortable. It is not a spoiler, nor is it necessary to the larger overall plot. It is important as it is about Freddie becoming more comfortable with Ann (the other character involved), their deepening relationship, as well as his recovery. It is also a signifier of Freddie building up to a much more uncomfortable topic of conversation. If, however, you wish to avoid the section I have marked it, as I did last time this came up, with *** before and after.

There is a whole Ted talk here about how I, and society as a whole, treat sex versus the sometimes extreme violence and horrific elements in my story. But I'm not going into that.

Some of the things that Anne says are, again, taken from a time where I was privileged to be present during a conversation where such matters were discussed amongst several female friends of mine. They might have been lying for my benefit. But I don't think so.

Also contains a scene from an autopsy, I think it's relatively minor and tame, but others may disagree

AND, there are some things about a deeply flawed and damaged woman involving unhealthy sexual relationships inside a failing marriage that gets quite intimate.

Last time I had a damaged woman that was portrayed in a less than flattering light, I got away pretty clean, but I have not been able to fit the entire explanation or insight into the woman's head in a single chapter for reasons of space and time. Show don't tell is a good rule for storytelling and Freddie doesn't know about things until later. But that does mean that his insights are a little one sided to start with. Again, as I do with all such things, the character and storyline was run past a feminist academic. I think that's it. This might end up being quite a controversial chapter.)

There are some things in this world that you never expect to find yourself doing.

When I set out on my journey, I never expected that I would meet a woman, fall in love with her and then agree to marry her. The prospect that that woman would be an Elder Vampire did not even cross my mind.

I barely expected to meet a Witcher, let alone become friends with him.

If you had told me when I first set out on my journey, that I would stand on the walls of Kaer Morhen and look out over the valley that contained it. That I would see the mountains that stood, stark and cold, over that great and terrifying keep and see the snow that never quite leaves those highest peaks.

If you had told me that I would stand over the slumbering form of the Sleeping Beauty or that I would have stood on the top of the highest tower of her ruined palace and try to speak with the dragon.

If you had told me that I would stand on the prow of a Skelligan longship and listen to the warriors of Skellige, proud, terrifying men all, as they chanted their ships onto the beach so that we could all, including me, fight off an Ice Giant.

If you had told me that I would be, in private, on first name terms with the Empress of the Continent.

If you had told me any of these things when I had first set out on my journey, I would have told you that such things were the matter of daydreams. Of stupid things that I would tell myself in the dark hours of the night where I would convince myself that what I was doing was worthwhile. That my Father would see the value in all of my silly little books and that he would be proud of what I was doing.

Proud of me.

I would have told you that the most, the very most that I could have hoped for in this entire endeavour was that I would see a bit of the world, learn a few things that had not been written down anywhere else and, as a result, make a name for myself in the very particular field that I had chosen. That I might make enough of a living so that I would not be entirely dependent on my father's charity.

If you had pressed me, then I might have admitted that I kind of hoped to meet a few girls on the way. To be able to get some sexual partners that I wouldn't have to pay for, or didn't leave me with a lingering feeling that they were only sleeping with me out of pity or because they were rebounding off someone else onto me or because there weren't any better candidates around.

Of course, I would only have told you all of these things after I had picked myself up off the floor after spending a, not small, amount of time rolling around and laughing.

However, now I have another item to add to the list. Another impossible thing that I have seen and done that would have been beyond even the wildest of my teenage dreams.

If you had told me that I would be standing in the private bed chambers of the Duchess of Toussaint, acknowledged as another in the long list of world renowned beauties that I have been privileged to meet, in the early hours of the morning. All while the lady herself did her best to wake herself up from her slumber so that she could get properly dressed and prepared for receiving visitors. If you had told me these things then, not only would I have been forced to pick myself up from the floor after laughing at you for an awfully long time, but I would also have been forced to send for some guardsmen in order to have you taken off to one of the growing number of insane asylums that dot the continent.

But nevertheless, there I was. Kerrass and I, studiously looking out the windows in order to avoid seeing anything that we shouldn't, while Syanna made the report to her sister and Ariadne looked on curiously.

I will admit that the bedchambers of so important a lady were not really what I was expecting. I shouldn't have been surprised though. The Duchess is not a lady to do anything by halves and the changes that had been wrought in the palace and in the Duchy originated in this room and in her head after all.

I don't know why I thought that her rooms would be any different.

The rooms were plain and utilitarian. There was a dresser with a mirror and numerous cosmetics along with many of the implements of torture that my sister would recognise as being vital for the proper marshalling of the feminine arsenal. There was also a desk, a chair and a small bookcase which contained a number of different books and scrolls that I hadn't had the nerve to go over and examine.

Next to the hearth there were a number of comfortable couches and arm-chairs where, Syanna would later tell me, the Duchess would gather with her closer friends to talk about different things, gossip, drink wine and discuss the virtues and vices of the men in their life.

On the dresser was a small family portrait that was a copy of the previous Ducal family, the parents of the current Duchess and Syanna. There was also a painting of Beauclair in all it's glory with the sun shining and the flowers and trees in bloom hung on the wall.

But the furniture was chosen for it's comfort rather than richness, there was no gold on display. No jewellery or precious stones to mark the location and the floor was made from plain wood paneling under the many rugs.

Of course there were rugs in order to retain the heat. Beuclair palace might be an impressive feat of Elven engineering but it is still made out of stone and wood. And we were still doing all of this in the middle of winter.

The Duchess herself had been wearing plain nightclothes when we were shown in before I quickly and carefully averted my eyes and moved to the window, Kerrass walking beside me as he clearly had the same idea and we could look out over Beauclair and the countryside. The Duchess' window looks out over both. So she can look at her people going about their business as well as enjoy some kind of view of the open countryside. Apparently, her private study has a similar view.

The sun was coming up.

A small army of servants had arrived and entered the room before us, something for which I was rather grateful. Not wanting to be caught otherwise. One of them was kneeling next to the hearth in order to get some warmth back into the room while others ushered the Duchess behind a privacy screen in order to get dressed. Others brought in some refreshments including several mugs of strong Coffee for which I was grateful.

All of this was going on as The Knight Commander told her sister everything that had happened the previous day since they had last spoken. An event that had, apparently, been when Syanna had gone to the Duchess, who had then instructed the Knight Commander to roust me out of my rooms and demand my help on pain of… well… something.

Even though the Duchess now favours plainer, more virginal styles than she used to, it still takes a lot of time to get that look right and she was still putting on the dress and getting her hair done correctly as the Knight Commander finished her speech and brought her up to speed on everything that had happened. Then she had some questions.

"Has Lord Palmerin been informed?" The Duchess asked as she sipped at her steaming hot mug of coffee, maids and other servants still fussing over her appearance.

"Sir Guillaume has been sent with that errand." Syanna said.

The Duchess nodded, a movement that upset the Ducal hairdresser that was frantically trying to brush the Chestnut hair into some kind of order. It bears noting that even when a fine lady's hair looks dishevelled as though the owner of the hair has only just risen from her bed, it still needs brushing and styling accordingly and, to my eyes, for an extraordinarily long amount of time.

"Good," She said. "Such news should come from family. I will speak with Lord Palmerin as well. I would wish to offer him my personal condolences."

There was another pause as the Duchess examined the information that we had brought her.

"You don't like Lord Tratamara's suspect." She asked Syanna.

"I do not."

"He does appear to fall into all the categories that you have drawn up for your suspects. He propositioned the other three and Lord Tratamara claims that he assaulted Lady Marie at the party."

"All of that is true." Syanna said. "And we will be investigating that as a possibility, but I just don't buy it."

The Duchess nodded, taking that in. "Just so long as you take that firmly in mind. What was it Colonel Duberton used to say?"

Syanna smirked, taking her sister's point. "That these things must be approached without bias or opinion. Investigate the evidence first, the testimony second and then see where that leaves you."

I saw Kerrass nod his agreement to that.

The Duchess surveyed us.

"So it isn't the Jack entity?"

"It is not." Syanna said. "We are as certain as anything can be in this world, that that would be the case."

The Duchess nodded at this. "The court, and the people will be relieved to hear that."

"Actually," Syanna interjected. "Lord Frederick has some thoughts on that."

"Oh?" The Duchess' blue eyes turned on me as she took another drink of coffee. "What thoughts Lord Frederick?"

I swore under my breath as I heard Kerrass snigger.

Not that he sniggered audibly you understand. But he was thinking about it.

"I think you should keep it quiet that it isn't Jack." I told her.

"Interesting. And why do you think that."

You know those moments, where you were kind of thinking that you had everything sorted out. You had arranged what you wanted to say and ordered it in your mind. Then, when the time comes, the person says, "So tell us what you think?" and everything just vanished out of your mind as all useful thought processes blow away like a leaf on the wind.

Yeah, it was like that. Made even worse by the fact that the Duchess just sat there and waited patiently.

"There is only one possibility now." I began carefully, hoping that my brain would start working and that I would be able to get the right words out in the right order in order to get what I wanted to say across. "For reason or reasons unknown, a person or persons unknown, are emulating Jack killings."

The Duchess nodded, "Go on."

"If we come out and say that we know that it isn't Jack, we are showing our knowledge early. Then the killer, or killers, will go one of two ways. They will try to prove that it is Jack. Or they will use a different tactic. Either way, I think that that would result in a higher body count."

"Explain."

I took another breath.

"The reason we know that this killer is not Jack is because of specialised knowledge." I explained. "What the average man on the street knows about Jack is, frankly, derived from what I have told them. They know about the outfit, the methods and the arbitrary nature of the killings. But what they don't know is some of the more specialised knowledge. Things like, how those victims are chosen. We know that this isn't Jack because there is no pattern, or rather that we haven't identified that pattern yet.

"But if we pretend to continue to believe that it is Jack. Then the killer will continue to pretend to be Jack. He cannot escalate matters. He will also, if he…"

"Or she," Kerrass added.

"... isn't already, become over confident. The fledgling crime-fighting abilities of the Knights Francesca is still unproven. Our opponents have already made one mistake in making it clear that this isn't really Jack by breaking the pattern. Their second mistake is that they either did not know, did not care to find out, or simply ignored the fact, from my journals not least, that Jack doesn't like copycats and that he goes out of his way to kill those copycats. Often horribly."

"How common knowledge is that fact?" The Duchess asked. Unknowingly echoing the question that her sister had asked earlier.

"It can be inferred from the earliest story of Jack that I published." I told her. "When he was the Jumping Jack" of Oxenfurt and he arrived to kill those men that were copying his methods. He also told me when I met him."

"Personally speaking, I think that the matter is one of arrogance." Syanna told her sister. "The details of the outfit, the behaviour. The… method of these killings is like the Jack of Lord Frederick's stories."

"All of those things could be taken from Laughing Jack though." The Duchess responded.

"True. But I'm not feeling it." Syanna said. "Laughing Jack was showy, he was there to draw us out. To beat us over the head with the fact that this was Jack and he had come for Francesca. We know that he was a distraction. This… Although the killings are cruder and less refined. There is method to it. I have read Lord Frederick's journals on the matter of Jack and am reading the original academic reference work."

"I am so sorry," I told her.

"This is closer to the real Jack. Laughing Jack wanted collateral damage. This man wants something else. To be this close, you would need to have read, in some detail, at least Lord Frederick's journals. So they would know that Jack comes for copycats."

"You are not taking into account the possibility of stupidity."

"No." I said. "There is stupidity here. But I agree, it is the stupidity of arrogance. They either don't think it will happen to them, or they have ignored it."

Kerrass shifted. "There is another possibility." He said. "We have no proof that this is the case. I want to stress that. But it is also possible that this is part of a greater conspiracy. And, like it was last time, the person carrying out the killings is a scapegoat."

"So, the plotter knows that Jack will come for the copycat and has no intention of being Jack themselves." The Duchess mused.

"Precisely. And from my perspective, that is the danger. If we admit that we know that the killer isn't really Jack. Then the plotter will simply cut his, or her, scapegoat free and find another way to carry out the plot."

Syanna nodded. "The play is in the open now. And we know something that they don't think we know."

"There is another risk as well." The Duchess said with the air of someone who just needs to hear someone say it. "If… or rather when, it gets out that you knew that this wasn't Jack, then people will feel betrayed that you lied to them."

"That is a risk." Syanna agreed. "It is. But for three points. The first is that you keep secrets from the people and the court all the time. You call them secrets of state and everyone shrugs and says "Of course the Duchess has to keep secrets, it stands to reason."

"The second point is that it will show the criminal element, the bandits and the nobles of Toussaint that I am not fucking around. That we cannot be gotten around by bribing the right official and keeping an ear open in court. They will learn that, much like they don't play according to the rules, then neither will I."

The Duchess nodded, a mix of agreement and acceptance. "The "Black Knight" Gambit. And what's the other point?"

"If, by keeping this thing a secret, if by lying, just a little bit, we manage to put this fucker on the back foot. If we trick him into being overconfident so that we can catch him all that much the quicker, then the lie is absolutely worthwhile. And even if it doesn't work, it was still worth trying. The only people who will not understand why I am lying are those people who are terrified by my ability, and willingness to do so. I will note their names carefully, go to bed and sleep like a baby."

The Duchess' eyes glittered. "I understand that babies sleep anything but quietly."

Syanna shrugged. "Then I shall sleep like a log. Or like the dead, or a drunkard. Or as though I have been properly and thoroughly ravished. Choose your own metaphor."

The Duchess smiled before nodding. "Which begs the question. What is the next step?"

It was further proven that I was correct when Sir Guillaume finally got his chance to look at the body of the dead woman. He had been directing the traffic of the place, going off to interview the people that had first identified the disturbance and those people that had come down to discover the thing. The same questions that we all ask. "Did you see anything unusual?" Which might come across as a bit of a pointless question given that the answer is nearly always some variation of "You mean apart from the dead woman who had had her insides sprayed around the local area."

There is more benefit to these questions and answers than you might think. If only for the one time that one of these witnesses gets a funny frown on their faces before shaking their heads. Which means that they did see or hear something and dismissed it as a pointless factor.

So it was actually a few minutes later that he finally came in to survey the scene for himself. He looked down at the dead woman and sighed unhappily.

"Aunt Josette." He closed his eyes and sighed again. A little more dramatically than I thought was truly necessary.

"Who?" Kerrass and I were examining the body and the site. Going over the place minutely.

"My uncle, Lord Palmerin's, estranged wife." The big man moaned unhappily. "I must go and inform him immediately." He told Syanna who nodded.

"Well that definitely breaks the pattern." Syanna commented after he had left. "The woman hated me, which was fair enough as I thought she was a stuck up cow, but she was not a bad woman. Despite that, she was not known for guarding her honour particularly closely."

"Especially when she thought it would annoy her husband." De La Tour agreed unhappily. "On the other hand, it would mean that whoever she denied would make for a prominent suspect. Especially if he turned up on any of the lists."

Syanna shook her head. "She didn't deny anyone that I ever heard of. I will admit that she liked them young and pretty and she was proud of her conquests. It meant that she could hurt Palmerin with the scandal. I know that she often claimed to have taken Lord Moineau to her bed and he never denied it. Nor did Sir Gregoire when she claimed to have conquered him. Although that was the least of the scandals that involve that particular Knight."

"Guards should be sent to seal her residence until it can be properly searched." De La Tour spoke up. "I will see to it."

Syanna nodded and he moved off.

"The body will need to be examined." Kerrass said. "Freddie and I can arrange that, but not until morning I think, after we've both had a chance to rest up a bit." By which he meant that I had had a chance to rest up a bit.

"I can assist with that," Ariadne said, "And might I suggest that Corvo Bianco has the best setup for that kind of thing. I can arrange the matter with Lady Yennefer."

"Hmmm?" Syanna was startled out of a thought while her brain caught up with her ears. "Yes, good ideas all. Although I think getting some rest will have to wait for now."

"Oh?" Kerrass wondered.

"My sister will want to be informed. She and Lady de Launfal were close once upon a time and she will be… upset that she is now dead. But also, I think we can no longer delay going to see Lord Tratamara. This latest death will be an excuse to disturb his grieving."

"The hour is late." Captain De La Tour had returned.

"Would you be asleep?" Syanna wondered. "The night after your daughter has been killed?"

He harrumphed, kind of a mix between a grunt, a snort and a sniff"Having never had a daughter, I wouldn't know. But I will not deny that it is a valid argument."

"Very good." Syanna turned back to Kerrass and Ariadne "Do you need to do anything here?"

"Several things if I am to be of help." Ariadne said. "Indeed, I think I will stay here and arrange things, taking the relevant samples if I may." She smiled. "I would appreciate it if you could assign me some strong stomached guards who can protect me while I do these things. Some of the things that I am about to do might be considered somewhat… ghoulish. And I would rather not have to explain myself, or protect myself, while helping the Duchy."

Syanna nodded.

Ariadne took my hand and led me away.

"Will you be alright?" She asked.

"I think so." I said. "Flame Ariadne but I feel better than I have in ages."

"You look better." She said. "You sound better, you move better and I can actually see that your mind is working better."

"I feel it all too."

"Be careful though. There is always a possibility that this is a temporary boost, sparked by the sudden action. Be wary and do not hesitate to tell Kerrass or Syanna if you feel weak. Or contact me and I will take you to safety at a moment's notice."

"I will."

"And let me know when you go to retire." She said. "I wish to be there when you go to bed and I will be there when you wake up for when you talk to your family. I think I deserve that."

I nodded. I had almost forgotten that latest small family betrayal. There had been so many over the years, small betrayals between parents and siblings that put tiny cracks in my heart. I sometimes thought that that was what family was, the small heart breaks and the forgiving of those same heart breaks. Then I wondered how many times that I had broken their hearts.

Not a pleasant piece of introspection.

"I love you." I told her. "I am still angry, but I love you."

"Oh Freddie." She pulled me into a kiss of reaffirmation before she pulled back and whispered in my ear. "It's been a long time since I was this close to forgetting that I had promised myself that I would wait for my wedding night."

I shuddered, but she held on.

"One of the reasons I am staying," she told me, "Is because seeing you looking this dynamic is sorely testing my self-control."

Then she pulled away, leaving me gasping for air and trembling with aroused frustration. I won't lie, it actually felt really good to feel that familiar wonderful frustration that Ariadne summoned in my body. It had been so long since I had felt any kind of physical arousal or desire that it was a shock.

We mounted up and Commander Syanna led us through the city to a large, enclosed house, just out of the city itself. Captain De La Tour stayed behind to be the official in charge of the murder scene.

Lord Tratamara is a distinguished gentleman of fine reputation. I had only met him in passing up to that point and I dare say that we had not left much of an impression on each other. This due to the fact that we had very little in common and we both knew it. Lord Tratamara is one of the few Lords, especially in the south, who would have gotten on really well with my Father. This is due to the enthusiasm that both men had for the sport of hunting.

Unfortunately, Lord Tratamara never saw the need to go that far north and Father had been unable to break much South of the Yaruga, except by sea, so the two men had not had much cause to meet each other.

Lord Tratamara is one of the last of a dying breed of noble, dying because the wars have all but wiped them out. He was already senior when the last two wars were being fought which kept him from the lines and I don't think that Toussaint was that heavily engaged in the fighting anyway. There used to be a kind of noble who were, essentially, stuck in their positions.

They could not advance in their rank because they would not be able to marry any higher, nor would they be allowed to. They were rich enough as it was and their lands and estates had been managed in that way by men, and occasionally women, who were far more competent in the management than the Lord could ever become. So all the Lord had to do was to sign the papers and agree with everything that their estate and business managers told them to.

They could not climb any higher, so all they had to do with their lives was to maintain their current positions in life. They had reached the glass ceiling of nobility. The only hope for these kinds of men is that the current ruler of the local area might have daughters which could then be married to the Lord's Sons.

Father had hit his own glass ceiling when he achieved the rank of Baron, ironically the same title as Lord Tratamara although titles are less linked to the amount of land that a Lord is in custody of in the South. The difference would be that this ceiling embittered father whereas the majority of the Lords who fall into this category are well aware of their position. Indeed, they have been taught this from their earliest memories. Such men find themselves hobbies.

Sometimes that hobbie is politics. They go to court and see if they can advance themselves that way. Sometimes that hobby is warfare, I spoke about this when I was talking about Lord Cavill in the North. They read accounts of battles and spend time dissecting the faults of this general or that Knight on such and such a field of battle. Other men throw themselves into being a Lord of the land, getting to know the farmers and villagers. Education is some men's vice, it's certainly mine. Lord Tratamara had chosen hunting and his lands contained one of the largest hunting reserves in Toussaint.

My understanding was that his preferred game was boar, but he often acted as the unofficial ducal huntsman. Even though the Duchy had it's own gamekeeper and huntsmaster. Such positions had fallen a little out of favour in the presence of Lord Tratamara as instead of calling for the proper tradesman, the Duke, or Duchess after him, would consult Lord Tratamara instead.

As such, Lord Tratamara would often provide the game for the Ducal feasts. Was crazy rich and had an admirable dislike for politics, which meant that he only turned up to court and to the feasts when there was something important going on, or when the quarry needed some time to breed.

And when we were shown into his rooms, it was quickly clear that he was drunk.

"Have you met my sons?" he demanded for the third time.

"Lord Frederick has met us several times now." The eldest of the two that were present said. His name was Jean de Tratamara. He was home for the winter from his diplomatic post somewhere in the Empire. He looked tired. The kind of tired that only comes after several hours worth of fresh grief while also having to manage a drunk and grieving Father.

His story was a little sad all told and not just for the loss of his sister. He, like his father and elder brother, had realised that the only way that he could progress was by either marriage or that he would need to make his own way. Not wanting to find himself in the Knights Errant he had left home to join the Nilfgaardian military and had fought in the most recent war with the North where he had lost his right arm during the invasion of Aedirn. His birth was still noble enough that he had been able to transfer to the logistics division and had become the primary aide to the Governor General of Vengerberg until the end of the war.

During which he had made the mistake of making himself indispensable and when the Governor General had retired from the service after the end of the war, he took Jean with him to the Imperial Court where Jean still serves the man as an aide. As a result, he finds that his career has stalled although he has been engaged to one of his benefactors younger daughters.

The girl in question is twelve while Jean is actually older than me, meaning that the age difference is well over a decade. Jean was in Toussaint "visiting with family" while actually being home because, apparently, the girl was hopelessly enamoured of the older military veteran from Toussaint and it made him uncomfortable. He told me, when I briefly met him at a party, that he was just hoping that her, understandably childish, crush could turn into something more adult and that they would make each other happy in the long run.

My understanding is that the eldest son and heir is part of one of the Toussaint diplomatic missions somewhere and the eldest, now only, daughter, was married to a noble of one of the conquered nations of Nilfgaard although I forget which.

The youngest son was clearly devastated and I had not met him. Some utter bastard had told him that he shouldn't be shedding tears in front of the well-wishers, some of whom were still present at the late hour that we had arrived and my guess was that he was tearing himself apart. He had asked his father to be excused shortly after we had arrived and Lord Tratamara had told his son to act as host while the Baron dealt with the newer guests.

"Lord Baron." Syanna tried again. "I do not wish to take up too much of your time under these trying circumstances."

"Yes, yes." Tratamara waved his hand negligently as he flopped down into a chair before turning to stare into the fire that was burning in the hearth. The Firelight reflecting off the tear tracks that were still running down his cheeks.

We had been shown into the Baron's study and I wish I could tell you that it was any different from any other Nobleman's study that you could expect to find. It was not the kind of study that I might have maintained, or that Emma or Father maintained. My feeling of the place was that it was that place that the Baron retreated to when the business of life got too much. A habit that had formed when the poor man's wife had still been alive, she had died of an illness some years before.

When the "women" got a little too gossipy for his tastes then he and his friends would retreat to his study while the women carried on in the drawing room of the manor house. As a result, the study was a little, very male, retreat.

There was little sign of learning or written work in it. There was a small bookshelf behind the desk with a series of, all but identical, leather bound volumes that I would have guessed to contain business, or land records. There was also a large map of Toussaint on one of the walls that had the various game territories marked out in so many crossing lines of different coloured ink that it was impossible for me to translate. I have no doubt that someone else could have looked at it and figured it out, or the man himself would be able to tell me what it all meant, but as it was, it was all but gibberish.

There were several artifacts that I assumed to be of a sentimental value. There was a broken hunting horn on a table along with a very old, scabbarded sword. A pair of boar spears were hung on the wall as well as a broken bow that, for reasons that I never found out, was displayed prominently.

There was also the portrait of a woman above the fireplace who I took to be the late Baroness. She was wearing hunting attire that in certain corners of the world would be considered "scandalous". If he reads this I hope Lord Tratamara takes it the right way when I say that the woman did not look overly beautiful, but I rather got a sense of the joy in her face that would make her attractive.

"Why didn't you come sooner?" The Baron asked.

"We have been chasing down other leads." Syanna told him carefully. "And we did not want to intrude upon your grief."

"No, I mean why didn't you come sooner. Why couldn't you have stopped this? You're supposed to protect us aren't you?"

"Yes I am." Syanna told him firmly. "And I am sorry for your loss." She added a bit more carefully. "Now there have been further developments that have made the movement of our timetable a little more urgent."

Jean, who was far more sober than his father looked up from where he was leaning against his father's desk. "There has been another killing." It was not a question and I began to see what a Governor General would see in a man like this one.

Syanna considered. "There has."

"Who was it?" Not an unfair question.

"We are waiting to announce that, until the next of kin have been notified." Syanna responded easily. It was a rehearsed line. A practised one and I wondered who had taught her that line. I suspected Colonel Duberton of the Nilfgaardians. It is a good line. It prevents further questions being answered.

Jean saw the trap and didn't step into it. His father was not as well up on the nuances though.

"What?" He demanded. "How dare you Madam, don't you know who I am?"

"Father?" Jean stepped forward and put his hand on his father's shoulder. The older man quieted at the touch of his son.

Syanna took a deep breath. "I know exactly who you are sir." She said formally. "And I know how you would have felt if I had told everyone who the newest victim was before coming here and informing you of your loss."

The Baron nodded. "I know, forgive me. My daughter…" His jaw worked for a moment. "Lord Frederick?"

"Lord Baron?" I stepped into the fire light.

"Is your Witcher friend helping with this?"

"He is. Allow me to present…"

Kerrass moved forward.

"Yes yes." The handwave again before he went back to staring into the fire. "I never expected to lose my daughter." He said finally. "Not until I walked her down the temple aisle anyway. A man in my position can expect to lose sons. Duty is the great killer of our time. Toussaint, Nilfgaard. You get used to the idea. But my daughter."

He sobbed.

"Why did it have to be my daughter? Why did it have to be my daughter?"

We said nothing.

"That was not a rhe… rhetori... cal question." THe Baron snarled suddenly, turning on Syanna.

"Father." Jean warned.

"It's alright." Syanna told him. "That is what we are here to find out."

"What could there possibly be to…"

"Many things." Syanna told him calmly. Throwing the proverbial cold water over the older man's anger.

Silence fell again as the flames in the hearth crackled.

"Commander." Jean ventured. "Perhaps it might be better if…"

"It would," Syanna agreed. "If I had my choice then I would leave you, Sir Jean, and your Father, to your grief and your anger. And if this were a decent world I would do those things. However, there has been another killing and the killer is getting bolder and… more brutal. There were three killings before your sister…. Before your daughter sir, and there has been another killing since. If I am to avoid anothing killing tomorrow night as well, then I must get the answers to our questions, sooner rather than later."

Jean looked unhappy but nodded. Baron Tratamara had turned back to the fire.

"What are your questions?" Jean asked.

"Witcher Kerrass?" Syanna prompted.

Kerrass stepped into the firelight. "We already know that Lady Marie was going to the party that night. Did you know about that?"

"Yes." Jean answered for his father. "We both knew."

"So it was not a secret that she would be attending."

"No. She was looking forward to it and had often expressed her anticipation both publicly and privately."

"Did either of you intend to attend?"

"We did not."

The Baron was, to all intents and purposes ignoring us now, tears still streaming down his face.

"Why not a larger escort?"

"I don't see what…?" Jean was frowning.

"Are you suggesting….?" The Baron was listening after all.

"No." Kerras spoke coldly.

"I don't have to sit here and listen to…" THe Baron stood up.

"Fine." Kerrass added, just as coldly. "Then other men's daughters will suffer the same fate."

The Baron looked as though Kerrass had struck him as he sank back into his chair.

"Cruel, Witcher." Jean looked away.

"Sometimes…." Syanna began with a cliche.

"I am a Witcher." Kerrass said. "My duty is to the living. Why two guards? Why not four? Fourteen? Why guard her at all? Why not one guard?"

"Two guards." Jean answered. "One guard to get her away, the other to delay the attacker." He sighed. "The general's guards work the same way. Some guards delay the attackers while the others get the general away."

Kerrass nodded. "I understand the theory. But that does not explain the numbers."

"We didn't think we needed more than two." The Baron spoke up. "THe guards were not there to protect her from assassins. They were there to protect her from muggers, thieves and rapists. I am not hated, so we did not fear a mob. But a pickpocket? She was walking through the wealthy part of town. She wanted her dress to be a surprise so we weren't too concerned. I was more worried that she might have her drink doctored at the party. Or that someone might trap her in a tight corner. Or that she might forget how much wine she had drunk and allow herself to get carried away."

Syanna leant forward, but Kerrass kept speaking.

"Has your daughter been compromised in such a way before?"

"My daughter was a good girl." The Baron's tears came again. "She never did anything to…"

"But did others try it with her?" Kerrass was insistent. "You were obviously afraid of other people doctoring her drink or trap her in a corner. Has anyone tried that before?"

The Baron had an interesting reaction to that. He seemed to pull back and sober up a little.

"All women of her station have stories like…"

"That's not what I was asking." Kerrass intoned.

"I will not… I will not sit here and be talked to like this. My daughter is dead."

"And I am trying to catch her killer."

"You have to understand." Syanna interjected. Time for some good watchman. "There has always been rumour about your daughter in that regard. Not regarding her virtue or her behaviour which was always above reproach. But that someone had tried to force the issue. An incident that, after which, your daughter was never accompanied anywhere other than in the company of one, or two, grim faced and highly skilled swordsmen."

The Baron turned back to the fire.

"She came to me in tears one night." His voice was clearer. Less slurring on the words. I watched carefully.

"She came to me in tears one night. It was after some party that we had been forced to attend and that I couldn't avoid."

"Which party?" Kerrass asked.

"I don't know." The Baron moaned. "I honestly can't remember. I was not ready to let go of my daughter yet, but she enjoyed the attention. Nor was she ready either. I was discussing some business with someone. Lord Treville, I think, when my Marie came to me in tears, her dress torn." He just about swallowed a sob.

"Some "knight"." He sneered at the title. "Had followed her out to the balcony when she went for some air and asked her for a walk in the gardens. She had tried to say no as she didn't want to get too far away from the rest of us. But the Knight insisted and she ran out of excuses. She went with him, reassured that people would hear if anything would happen and she resigned herself to a boring walk, talking about swords and tournaments and the like.

"Then he grabbed her and tried to force her behind a hedge. She tore free and fled."

"Who was the Knight?" Syanna asked.

The Baron looked shifty. For the first time that knight he looked uncomfortable. "It was Gregoire de Gorgon. The Brute of Beauclaire. Who else could it have been?"

He was definitely more sober than he had been when we had all first entered the room.

Syanna and Kerrass exchanged glances. Kerrass shrugged.

"Thank you." Syanna said, rising. "We know that you have declined a number of marriage proposals. We are interested in anyone that might have taken that hard. Or anyone that Marie might have rejected and accidentally broken the wrong person's heart."

"I can have the records sent to you." Jean said, forestalling his father. Also wanting this entire thing to be over I think.

"Then we shall leave you to your grief."

A servant led us out. It was not lost on me that the servant himself was in tears as he did so.

We mounted up and headed back into Beauclair. The Guard had taken over the inn that was over the last murder site. The innkeep was more than happy as it meant that he could charge us all for the watered wine, which was gradually being replaced by tea and coffee given that the hour was increasingly growing early rather than late, and food that we were consuming.

We met up with Damien and the four of us sat down at a table where we were quickly served. I went with tea rather than coffee as I wanted to be able to tell the difference between trembling limbs from the coffee or my own special headspace.

"How was the Baron?" De La Tour asked.

Syanna had been frowning into space for a while since we had all sat down. She blinked at Damien, before her expression returned to one of concentration.

"That man lied to me." She said reflectively, as though she was making her mind up that this was the case.

"Yes he did." Kerrass agreed. "But I think the fact that he did is not as important as the question of why he did."

Syanna's eyes widened. "Explain please?"

"Gregoire, sorry, Sir Gregoire de Gorgon is easily proven innocent of both the past crimes and these current ones. He is not the kind of man that passes unnoticed after all. Men step out of his way, women look away and hope not to meet his gaze. People actively avoid him. To do all of that, you need to know where he is. So I think it will not take long for our esteemed guard Captain to find out where Sir Gregoire is and where he has been, in the minutest detail since the killings started."

"He is not the kind of man that blends into a crowd." Damien agreed.

"As for the party where his daughter was attacked? Or let's be fair here, the party at which he claims his daughter was attacked or his daughter claimed to be attacked. It is not as common as people think it is, but she might have claimed an attack to avoid embarrassment of a different kind."

"I knew Lady Marie." Syanna said, a little angrily. "She was not the type for that kind of thing. Nor would she have been the type to enjoy the salacious scandal that would have resulted."

"I never said she was." Kerrass countered. "But we should also confirm that. Confirming what we know is just as important as finding out what we don't. Freddie taught me that."

Syanna grunted unhappily.

"Still," Kerrass went on. "I think that there were enough clues given so that we can figure out which party it was. We know a rough time frame as I am sure it can be found out when Lord Tratamara started to hire mercenaries to protect his daughter."

"It would not be hard." De La Tour agreed.

"We know that Lord Tratamara spent time talking to a Lord Treville, which was when his daughter approached him to tell him about the attack, something that would have been remarked upon if the gentleman in question is local and questionable. And we know that there was a Garden for some assailant to pressure Lady Marie into taking a walk with him in. That's plenty to get us going."

"I would also suspect," I added, "That such places would have guest lists. Even in the past records such things will be kept. If a Ducal party, which I would suspect as there are not a lot of gardens that someone could use for an assignation, either consented or forced. And the Duchess will certainly have a herald or a master of Ceremonies that would keep such lists."

"As would any of the major vineyards that could also qualify." Syanna agreed.

"Then we have another list to check off suspects against. As well as the lists that Lord Jean will be providing us."

Syanna nodded. "So we have plenty to be going on there." She said. "I think we need to start talking about Madam de Launfal. "Do you have anything else for us Damien?"

"Not a great deal." He admitted. "Her residence is sealed off by my order. Mademoiselle de Angral took the body and some samples off through a magical portal of some kind after staring into space for a moment. We are in the process of questioning witnesses and I have ordered her butler that all of her servants should make themselves known at the house. They have not been informed as to what has happened yet."

"We will not be able to keep that quiet for long." Syanna said.

"No." Damien agreed. "But there is a lot there. And back from when I was commanding the Duchess' guard. I remember being cynical about things when there is quite so much evidence. Real conspirators hide evidence, frame jobs just keep adding to it."

Syanna nodded. "Ok. In which case Damien, I think it's time that you go and get some rest. You've had less sleep than I have over the last few days and you're beginning to look like a runny egg."

"Charming." Damien commented. "This from a woman who actually looks less appealing than your average Bog Hag at the moment."

Syanna stared at him in astonishment. It looked as though her mouth carried on speaking without any impetus from her. "Well at least I don't look as though I've been punched in the face, twice, once in each eye."

Damien nodded. "Well, given that you look very like your sister, and therefore one of the most beautiful women in the Duchy. I have to admit, I would sooner kiss a Nightwraith than yourself." His face brightened as new inspiration struck. "No, a Pesta. I would sooner kiss a Plague Maiden than you with the way you look at the moment."

Kerrass and I watched in astonishment. "Let him have it, let him have it." I chanted under my breath.

"Well…" Syanna reddened slightly. "At least you didn't say that you would rather kiss a troll."

"I've known some nice trolls." Kerrass commented, only to be ignored by both.

"And it shows how tired you must be if you are sinking to my level." Syanna went on. "Off you go, a bath, a shave and some sleep."

"Very well, but only if you do the same after you have seen your sister."

"Including the shave?" I muttered back to Kerrass.

"Done and Done." Syanna agreed, spitting in her hand and shaking with Damien.

"I will sleep much better knowing that we are not dealing with Jack at least." Damien commented as he rose from the table.

"I think we should keep that to ourselves for now." I said, almost without thinking.

Damien stared at me for a long moment before slowly sinking back into his seat.

"Why?" Syanna asked carefully as she gazed at me.

"The next step?" Syanna asked her sister. "I share, with Captain De La Tour, the relief that we are not dealing with a... return of the Jack menace. I agree with Lord Coulthard and Master Witcher Kerrass that this also means that we cannot be complacent. We have a lot of work to do. But frankly, I am exhausted. Damien is as bad if not worse. Freddie is sick. Guillaume has lost his aunt and will have family things to take care of. Ariadne is working but won't have anything for us before tomorrow. The only man capable of working through the night is Kerrass. And I do believe that he has missed an appointment to be with us now.

"The next step? I think we should take a few hours to rest. Then, at least, I will have better answers to that question for you. We need to narrow our list of suspects is what occurs, but there are plenty of things in the wind to help us do that."

The Duchess nodded. "So ordered. Get some rest, all of you."

We bowed.

"I will see you both in the morning." Syanna told us. "In the meantime, I want to gossip with my sister."

The Duchess was in the process of speaking to a servant so Kerrass and I looked at each other and nodded.

"I'm off too Freddie." Kerrass told me. "Maybe I can salvage something of the evening."

I took a deep breath. "Good luck Kerrass."

"Thanks. I don't think I'll need it but you never know with women, especially ones like this who love the drama."

"Remember that I want to talk to everyone in the morning."

"I have not forgotten. Just as I hope that you have not forgotten that you promised to let Ariadne know that you were heading to bed."

"I know I'm supposed to. But I'm far too hyped up to…." I shook my head.

Kerrass grinned. "I would let Anne take care of that if I were you. But also that you told Ariadne when you were retiring for the night."

"Good night Kerrass."

"See you in the morning Freddie."

I wandered through the palace. The first time I had been alone in, what felt like, forever. I was escorted of course. One of the Knights Francesca that was permanently attached to the palace had fallen in behind me when we had arrived back at the palace. But I had fallen into the same trap I always fell into as a noble. I had forgotten that he was there.

I wandered out onto a balcony as I passed and took a moment to enjoy the night air. I was feeling good. A pleasant buzz that is associated with the truth that you have worked hard, for the betterment of others and that you feel tired because of it. I enjoyed the crisp night air and the cold view below me. I watched the stars as they twinkled and enjoyed the shape of the moon as it stood, clear above the mountains.

Then I looked down at the city and therefore the Duchy below me. Somewhere down there was a killer and I was going to find them, catch them and then I would see Justice done.

I felt my mouth turn into a grin.

"I am heading to bed." I told Ariadne through our link.

"I will be there directly." She told me.

I took another long lungful of the cold night air before turning back to the palace within. A small part of me feeling a little bit guilty given that some people would be quite angry for being outside in these temperatures with my health being the way it was at the moment. But then I remembered how angry I was at those people and felt myself chuckle.

I climbed through the palace until I reached the guest wing and walked up to the entrance of our rooms. The ways were known to me now and I found myself wondering when that had happened. I entered and found Ariadne staring down at a sleeping Emma who was lying on the couch.

Ariadne smiled at me.

"Do you want to wake her up?" She asked through the link.

"No," I answered. "I feel really good at the moment. Better than I have felt in ages and I want to enjoy the moment. I want to enjoy it without having to get into a fight, or having to worry about my sister's tears or my brother's recriminations. I don't want to feel the guilt over hurting them. Not yet."

"They kind of deserve it. We kind of deserve it."

"Yes, but that will not stop me feeling guilty."

She stared at me. "How much better are you feeling?"

She was wearing a black robe. The kind that I thought of as being her "working robes" which showed that she had been in the lab. Just a loose dark robe with a tool belt around the middle that kept it all together. When she wears it while travelling, she would have a satchel over her shoulder which would contain anything else she might need. In this iteration, her hair was tied back and her sleeves were pulled back from her wrists. I thought I could see the shine of wetness on her wrists, telling me that she had cleaned her hands before coming.

She never believes me when I tell her that I find her incredibly attractive when she's in her "working robes". I mean, I find her incredibly attractive anyway but…

I held my hand out to her. She moved towards me and gave a little yelp as I pulled her into a kiss.

A kiss which took my breath away, let alone hers.

"Oh that much better." She said quietly with a little chuckle before she dived back in.

The moment was ruined by Emma giving a little grunt in her sleep and rolling over on the couch. Ariadne and I giggled like children and ran to the corridor leading to our rooms.

"You should get some rest." She told me.

"I am tired," I admitted, "but I don't think I could sleep."

She stared at me critically. "If we were married, I would use your hormones against you."

"Oh?"

"Afterglow Freddie."

"Oh. I would not deny that that would be pleasant." I admitted. "What with Kerrass recounting his recent exploits and your earlier comments, I am recently reminded that it has been a long time."

"I know." She said, "It is alright. It is part of why I contacted Anne. I know humans Freddie, you need this and..."

"Stop." I said. "I am tempted, I cannot least because she is a beautiful, wonderful woman. But I have to say this. I…. If you don't want this. If there is even a small part of you that is jealous or will feel bad. Then I won't. I will take another couch or find another room and Anne can leave in the morning with my good wishes, sincere gratitude for all her help and all my care in the world."

"Freddie…."

"If you don't tell me that then… Then I don't think I can… I find that I really am very …"

"The Word is Horny Freddie." She told me.

"Ariadne, I don't want to hurt you and…"

She took me by the hand and led me into my room where we found Anne, sat at one of the tables and was reading a book.

"I was waiting for you." She said as she carefully placed a scrap of cloth as a bookmark. "I wanted to…." Then she saw the pair of us and her eyes widened. "Oh. Well."

She stood up and smoothed her skirts. Then she smiled in a certain way and a jolt of arousal swept through me.

"It's about damn time." She said, swaying as she moved towards me.

"Ariadne." I pleaded although I have no idea what I was going to say.

"Hush love." She said, kissing me on the cheek. "Enjoy, I want this for you. And I have work to do anyway."

She turned to go "And I am not leaving you." She added through the link.

"You look much better like this." Anne told me as she undid the buckle on my cloak.

"Listen." I said.

"And I really enjoyed watching you take certain people down a few pegs this morning." She grinned wickedly.

"Stop," I said, taking her hands, and a moment to catch my breath.

"Is everything ok?" She asked, concern shining in her eyes.

I took another breath. "You don't have to do this." I told her. "I know why you are here. I know why you came. This wasn't exactly in the original remit."

"It really was." She grinned at me. "I was beginning to fear that it wasn't going to come up."

"No, what I'm saying is… You don't have to if you don't want to. If you would rather…"

She silenced me rather effectively as she started undoing the ties of my clothing.

"I do want to. You are kind, and going out of your way not to take advantage of me. You are a good man and I must also admit that I am curious about all of these jaded courtesans you claim to have satisfied, or that Witcher of yours claims to have satisfied. He waxed quite lyrical about your capabilities."

"I'll kill him."

"Not after I'm through with you you won't." She told me as she pulled my shirt off. "Besides." She kissed me again. "You really do look good in those clothes."

I surrendered to her feminine wiles. And afterwards, I did indeed sleep.

The following morning started slowly and erotically and I'm not going to talk about that too much. I passed in and out of an odd, extremely relaxing and restful state of mind that was part dozing, part love-making and part just enjoying being relaxed, happy and comfortable.

It had been a long time since I had felt this good and I was putting off waking up. Not least because when Anne went off to find us some breakfast, or at least some coffee, she admitted that my family were outside and waiting for me.

After we had eaten and I had, again and may I do it every time it happens, marvelled at the fact that I was allowed, indeed I was encouraged, to touch a beautiful woman.

"So I wouldn't normally ask but…" I began as I traced the slightly bony protrusions of Anne's spine with my fingertips.

"Oh Prophets preserve me from the pride of men," She moaned as she giggled. "Is this the "How do I compare" question? I thought your male pride was more solid than needing to know how you measured up in the bedchamber against other people."

"It wasn't quite that question." I told her with a slight smile. "And I am reasonably confident in my own assessment of my own ability."

"Do tell." She laughed.

"As I have previously written, the oddest and strangely pleasing compliment that I have ever been paid was that I was "pleasingly average" when it comes to manhood." I told her. "I asked that question once when I was feeling somewhat less secure in my own abilities than I am now."

She laughed at that. I found that she had a nice laugh when she was thinking about erotic things. Different from when she was laughing otherwise. I was much more pleased with how relaxed she seemed in my company now. Although I still claim ignorance on being able to properly tell when a woman is satisfied, I was pretty sure that I had managed it at least once, either last night or this morning. Even if she did have to fake the rest. But I hoped that this contributed to her feeling of relaxation.

"Matters in that regard are down to personal taste." She told me. "I would agree with whoever gave you that compliment, and it is a compliment, believe it or not. There are times when a lady wants more and there are times when a lady wants less."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes, would you actually like to know?"

"I will admit to some curiosity. Always nice to talk to a Professional, in any field."

"I once knew a man, tiny little manhood. But it bent in a certain way which meant that when he found the right spot, it rubbed in exactly the right way to reduce a woman to jelly."

"In a good way?"

"In the best possible way. His technique was to move his angle of thrust until he found the woman's "spot" and then he would vary speed accordingly. He was always successful. I will admit that I would not have found it satisfying all the time but the sensation was entirely different. And sometimes, a change is as good as a rest."

"Ok." I was fascinated. "And for the other end of the scale?"

"Size, either length or girth…" She considered, leaning back to drink her coffee and giving me access to so many more treasures. "There is a point, in either direction where it comes down to physiology. A man can be too long, or too wide to physically fit in the girl and no matter how much technique or other aids are applied, it will never work." She winced at a memory. "I have no way of conveying to you how much that kind of thing can hurt."

I ensured that my ministrations became more gentle in an effort to soothe away unpleasant thoughts.

"But otherwise, it is a matter of technique and build up." She went on, leaning into my caresses a little more. "Proper lubrication and a man who knows how to be gentle, how to take his time and work up to it are invaluable. If all of this is properly seen to, then yes, a large manhood can be… quite something. The problem lies that most men, not all," She smiled at me, "do not have the patience for such matters. Especially when they have convinced themselves that size is everything. It's not. It helps, don't get me wrong…." She thought about it.

"I think what I'm trying to say is that…. Speaking as a professional."

"Of course."

"I would rather have a skilled lover on the smaller side, who knows how to use his fingers and mouth properly, as well as being concerned for my pleasure as well as his own. Than a larger endowed man who just pounds away."

I absorbed this.

"I also know," I went on after a while. Speaking a little slower as I concentrated on what I was doing. "That I lack stamina in certain areas, am not as flexible or as strong as I could be and this means that certain acts and positions are beyond me."

"The classics are the classics for a reason." She told me with a smile as my gentle caresses started to bear fruit and her eyes became hooded. "But you do have one advantage over many partners, or customers if you prefer, have."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You actually seem to enjoy giving your sexual partners pleasure." She had to rush to get those last words out.

Then she gasped. We stopped talking for a while after that.

"Such things are rarer than you might think." She went on after she calmed down. "Many treat a woman's pleasure as a transaction. They must give a woman pleasure before they can have it for their own. Almost like a matter of honour. That can make the act rather mechanical when it should be beautiful. Others, most even given my line of work, think that their pleasure is their right. They've paid for it after all and if the woman enjoys herself then it is an added bonus. Let me put it another way. You have just given me an enormously pleasant orgasm. Not the most powerful that I have had, even from you. But it was gentle, caring and wonderful. But if I did not reciprocate, you would not be angry. That is what makes you an unusual lover."

"What can I say." I told her. "It's fun. Also for my money, women are beautiful creatures and yes, you look beautiful when your hair and makeup's done and you're wearing your fancy clothes. But to me, a woman is never more beautiful than when she's in the throes of pleasure."

She laughed.

"Not just pleasure you understand." I told her with a grin. "But the full on, eyes rolling like you're possessed, hair tangled, flushed skin, limbs everywhere, body twitching uncontrollably kind of pleasure. The stuff where you're past moaning, past screaming, the sounds are more like… primal grunting."

She laughed for a long time. "That Vampire of yours is a lucky woman." She told me.

"It's been said." I commented. "Personally speaking though, She has put up with a lot of nonsense from me. Things I've said and done… I have been incredibly foolish and unthinkingly cruel in the past. I prefer to think of myself as a lucky man."

She smiled gently. "All men can be foolish and ignorant and unthinkingly cruel. So can women actually, especially when we are young." She told me. "The trick is to see this when you are, or shortly afterwards, and then turn up with flowers shortly afterwards."

"Not Orgasms?" I joked, a little uncomfortably.

She laughed again.

"Flowers first." She insisted. "And maybe some wine if she forgives you."

I laughed and pulled away.

"But you have lost the mood haven't you?" She asked gently.

"It was a glorious high." I told her, pulling on a robe. "But my mind is moving away from this now. I want to be up and about and doing things."

"You said." She told me. "You have a killer to catch."

"I do."

"What happened?" She asked carefully. "Why were you so late back last night?"

I sighed. "There was another death last night."

"Who died?"

"Lady Josette de Launfal." I carefully didn't give any details despite this. I didn't want to ruin our morning with gruesome details.

"That poor woman. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You might regret asking that question." I told her, gazing at her steadily for a moment.

"It can hardly be the most personal thing that you have asked me so far."

I considered for a moment before deciding that I could trust her. After all, she had literally held me at my weakest point.

"Are you sure?" I checked.

She nodded.

I sighed. The truth was that I would have probably had to ask the question, regardless if she had said yes or no.

"Tell me about Sir Gregoire." I told her.

I have no idea where the instinct had come from that this would be a big question for her. I have no idea, but it was and I saw it strike home.

She changed from lying back in the bed, relaxed, naked but for a sheet, hair in disarray, beautiful and pleasantly tired. Then she was closed off. She sat up, wrapping a sheet around herself to preserve some modesty, turning her back as she did so before wrapping her robe round herself. And as I watched her close herself off, I felt my heart break a little.

"I am sorry." I told her.

"Don't be." She ran some fingers through her hair to straighten some of the tangles. "I told you to ask." She tried to smile as she looked at me. "It is I who am sorry." She said. "I pushed you into asking and I have hurt you."

I allowed a small smile. "I try to limit my overall maleness where I can." I told her. "But I feel like I have just hurt you. You certainly look hurt, and hurting a woman goes against… well, everything that I believe. Especially a woman that I care about."

This time the smile was more genuine.

"You really are very sweet."

"Not the kind of thing a man wants to hear after waking up in the arms of a beautiful woman." I tried for the joke, I was even a little successful.

"Why do you ask about Gregoire?"

Not "Sir" Gregoire I noticed. Shortly before cursing my suspicious mind.

"He has been implicated in the deaths."

She shook her head. "He wouldn't…" She was getting angry.

"I agree." I held my hands out to placate her. "I really do. We have been looking for connections between the dead women. One of which was that Sir Gregoire Propositioned all the victims."

She took that in stride. "He would." She scratched her head with an odd look on her face before she sighed and poured herself another coffee and offered me another, which I took. More to accept the concession than because I wanted one. Her mouth jerked towards a smile and she relaxed a little, opening up a bit more. "Although I should warn you that it is generally bad form to discuss past lovers with a woman."

"He was your lover." I stated, it didn't seem like it needed a question.

She nodded. "Although that's not quite right. He is an occasional customer of mine."

She started to relax, staring off into space as she sipped her coffee.

"Flower of the Night rejected him." I prompted

"Yes she did." Ann set the cup down, then she laughed. "This is the strangest post-coital conversation I've ever had."

"I'm sorry."

"Ah Freddie, don't be. You have nothing to apologise for. Just don't ask me to compare the two of you." She laughed.

"Yet I am still sorry."

"I know." She climbed out of her chair and knelt before me, taking my hands. "Look at me." She said and I did as I was ordered.

"Do not be afraid." She told me. "You surprised me is all. I was not expecting your question. You are a good man, you did not hurt me. If you did, it was by accessing an old injury that you did not know about, could not have known about and is therefore blameless from you. Whatever happens, I have enjoyed my time with you and, if it's ok, I will continue with that. I have had far less pleasant experiences with clients, and few better."

"Why?" The question was automatic.

She thought about the question. "I feel…. I feel valued here. I feel as though… It's more than giving pleasure or release from stress. I feel as though I am making a difference here. I like your family, I like Ariadne and I like you." Then she grinned, a little hungrily. "And the Love-making was far from unpleasant. I will admit that I would kind of like to see some of your other skills in evidence. You were tired last night and your need was great. This morning you were either mostly asleep or had your mind on other things. I want the full Freddie experience."

I laughed with her then.

"I will still be here when you return." She told me. "And should you ever return to Toussaint, come and find me. I will be more than glad to forgo other clients for you. That is not an offer I give to many clients by the way." Then she laughed again. "You may even bring that Vampire of yours. The way she looks at you sometimes, I think I would like to see that, be part of it."

I nodded and she rose.

"Do not be afraid." She told me.

"Is it wrong of me to be afraid."

"Not wrong." She said as she settled back into her own seat. "Incorrect. You are still very vulnerable I think, despite how much better you are."

She arranged her robe again. "Now, let me tell you about Gregoire and Fleur."

"You make it sound like it was some kind of grand romance, or horrific confrontation."

"Heh. It was really very simple." She thought about something. "Ok…. Ok look. I loved Fleur. She was my sister, my teacher and my friend."

I felt myself smile.

"Something something, anything before a "but", something."

She smiled too. "But… But I hated her as well. There is a strange kind of competition between us as members of Isabelle's little troupe. We cannot exist without each other. If we did, we would be isolated and destroyed by the people who we threaten by our very existence. Those men who would not dare strike a working girl in Toussaint in fear of what Isabelle would do, would be free to find someone who has none of that protection and act accordingly."

"How bad is it? Your profession seems relatively well protected here. Even with Isabelle's fierce reputation and despite all the things that she would do."

"Yes, but it makes people fear us. For a while there was a lot of legal wrangling. Back when Toussaint was going through a moralising phase we were stripped of a lot of protections. Technically speaking, we can be beaten by our clients."

"That's awful."

"Yes it is. But not unusual in the world. THe law says that once our bodies are paid for, then our body belongs to the client and he, or she for that matter, can do what they like with it. It was not as bad as I've heard it be in many places. But a man that whipped a girl to death would not be arrested. He would need to deal with the scandal, but to a certain kind of person, that only adds to the arousal."

"But that's where the Knights Errant come in isn't it? A girl could go to the Knights Errant for protection and championing."

"You would think that. And most people don't know it, but the law prohibits another Knight from fighting on behalf of a prostitute. The language is quite interesting. It's supposed to mean that a man can't be arrested or charged for beating up or hurting a prostitute when paid for. But according to the wording, a sex worker is actually exempt from the term "Lady." Which means that they are not protected by the rights of calling a champion. A noble could simply ignore it."

"Wow."

"I thought you knew this kind of thing. It's not unusual according to other working girls that I've met."

"It's not. I just thought that Toussaint was better than that."

"It is now. These things are technicalities. Only the people that know about them would enforce it. But if I said that the sky was blue and a passing nobleman, merchant or… anyone really, if they live in Toussaint… If they said that I was lying and that the sky was red. Then I would be considered to be in the wrong and punished accordingly."

I shook my head. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You would never treat me like that. But I've gotten off topic.

"Despite our sense of sisterhood, we are also in competition with each other. It is a competition that Isabelle encourages. Who can bring in the most clients, who can bring in the most money, who has the best ideas and who has the most repeat clients. It would be true to say that we are all different and that we all do different things. That would be true and more than just the surface fact that I am blonde while Flower was dark haired.

"But that didn't mean that I didn't celebrate any week, or any month that I brought in more money than she did. Or that I snagged a better, richer client than she did.

"And that was made worse by the fact that she didn't seem to care about the competition. We used to say that she thought her shit didn't stink and that she thought she was better than us. Which is unfair because she was better than us.

"Prophets but I miss her."

She bowed her head for a moment.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"Don't be." She said.

"No." I told her. "I am sorry for your loss. And I'm sorry that I… made you…"

"Oh for the love of the Prophet." She said, with a small laugh, throwing her hands in the air. "You literally asked me again before we did anything. When I was all but throwing myself at you, you stopped me and checked for my consent. You made me do nothing I didn't want to do. Sex is life affirming apart from anything else."

I settled down, a little mollified, but only a little.

"Her thing, her gimmick if you prefer," She started up again, "Was that she knew how to dress, talk, look, move and behave like a lady of high stature." She was the first to accompany an out of Duchy Lord to a party because she knew how to exist in that environment. She provided that fantasy for her clients.

"But here's the thing about Clients. Sometimes, what they think they want is not actually what they really want, or need. Which is where Sir Gregoire enters our story."

She laughed at a memory.

"We were all much younger then, fuck, we were younger than you are now." She glared at me. "Before you ask, do not ask me how old I am?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." I told her. "And I would remind you that the woman I'm marrying is well over 900 years older than I am."

"True. Not really uncomfortable with older women are you."

"There are some jokes about experience that I could make here. But I'm not going to because I have more class than that."

"You lose class when you point out that you didn't make a joke."

"Curses." I snapped my fingers.

"We were just starting to establish ourselves. Flower was already the pre-eminent worker and some of the rest of us were coming up behind her. As I say, her thing was the Fantasy of the Noble-woman. My gimmick was still developing but what it came down to was that I was the caring person. I work best with the broken hearted. Those men, and occasional women, who have been hurt and need comfort. Men who have been turned down. Who have been betrayed by those that they love. Those that might have… lost something. Recovering from war, tragedy, grief.

"I find it easier to empathise with the people that I work with. Flower was always playing a role whereas I could work with what I found. Isabelle used to say that I was more… adaptable and Flower was more specialised. I remember some bitterness then. I thought that if I was more adaptable, then I should appeal to more people. Where she should only attract a narrow field.

"The other problem, the other wedge between the two of us, was that we would regularly get clients who wanted the best. They had heard of Flower because of course they had, and wanted her. But being slightly younger and therefore, less famous, I would often be made to feel like a consolation prize.

"So, in walks Sir Gregoire and we all gape at him. I mean you've met him. He's a giant of a man. So big that his feet hang off the bottom of the bed. And in a normal bed, a woman has to, at least in part, use him as a cushion. Which is not as comfortable as you might think. His muscles are hard and unyielding when resting next to him.

"He was young then, we didn't know much about him at the time but his Father had just knighted him as some form of bitter joke. There is some debate on that. More charitable people than me have suggested that his Father was trying to provide for his bastard son."

"So he was born out of wedlock?"

"Oh yes. You would be better off asking him for the entire story. His Father was a nasty piece of work, never married and ran his manor into the ground. He never married as when he was of marriageable age, he was a younger son and had little rank or… money to his name. Then he inherited late after the older brother died and by that point he was already embittered so no woman or girl wanted to go near him.

"He gambled, drank and whored his manor into poverty, selling the lands to pay debts. Gregoire was born to a maid of some kind, he does not remember her fondly as she would insist that his father recognise him. The father would laugh, beat the woman and bully Gregoire. Young Gregoire was of the opinion that they should just move away but the mother refused, insisting that they stay put and that Gregoire gain "his birthright". One day the father went too far and beat the woman to death and knighted Gregoire the same day. Did it properly too by all accounts.

"Gregoire had no idea how to be a knight, except from the stories that his mother told him. Which were not the same kinds of stories that you and I might have been told about becoming a Knight. I am of the opinion that the Father was dying and some part of him wanted an heir, even a broken one like Gregoire.

"Gregoire has always been a freak of nature. He was already tall and found it really easy to put on muscle mass. He entered his first tournament without knowing that just wearing chainmail was suicide and that his sword would snap at the first blow. Which was one of the first and only times that someone showed him any kindness. Another Knight, a Sir Phillibert de Gilebin, was of a similar size and strength if a few years older. At one point, Gregoire wondered if Philibert was some kind of distant relation. It was never proven because Philibert died a few years after in a duel.

"But Sir Philibert saw the difficulty and leant Gregoire a spare suit of armour. Gregoire had no idea what he was doing, lost the joust and the sword, mostly because he didn't know the rules. But, to everyone's astonishment, he won the melee by showing everyone just how angry he was. He converted his prize into coin and outfitted himself a little better and had some money left over. He asked the… probably the weaponsmith that he got his first sword from, what he should do and the man told him to go and get laid.

"So he came to the Belles, and not knowing any differently, he asked for the best and was sent to Fleur. It was the first time that Fleur referred a client to me. She sensed the bruised and battered heart that lay in the young giant's chest and said I would do better."

She shrugged. "She was probably right."

"What happened after?"

"He wanted to prove himself to his Father. Without realising that his Father would never approve. He trained himself to the Joust, learned the rules of the Sword…"

"Hang on, he's self taught?"

"Oh yes. I'm told his technique is unique and is shaped by his size and strength. At the sword he wins by hammering his opponent's defences away until they can't do any further. At the joust he can carry the biggest, heaviest, longest lances, wear the heavier armour and ride the biggest, strongest horses. So he just ignores the impacts that he takes and makes sure that his own strike take the opponent to the ground. I'm told that it's simple, elegant, effective and no-one else could emulate it. I once heard another client call it "The truest example of the form that could be applied."

"He equipped himself with what he earned and rode back to his manor house after the season ended. Only to find that his father had died and had willed the Manor to a distant cousin who couldn't possibly be less interested."

"Ouch."

"Gregoire's words were stronger. He has since decided that he deserves the best. He travels the continent in a straight line from tournament to tournament. Competing in the joust, the sword and the Melee. He wins more than he loses. Much more than he loses and he takes the money, upgrades his equipment, hires the best courtesan that will have him despite his reputation and moves on. He bought the manor house off his cousin for a ridiculous sum and is investing in it. It will never be as good as it was a century ago and more than one person, including me, thinks he should have it knocked down and built up again from scratch. But he insists. In the meantime, he avoids social engagements and carries on, ignoring what other people think of him. Still trying to prove himself to his dead Father."

I stared at her for a while, she had spoken into the air and her eyes had attained a distant look and a suspicion formed in my mind.

There is a spell in Toussaint, a curse if you prefer. That curse is called romance. The people there believe in the romantic stories and the existence of true love. I was infected with this curse and will admit to being a romantic. I like the good guys to win, the bad guys to lose and for people to get the object of their infections. Some people call this optimism but I don't think that's quite right.

But I began to suspect that Anne was a little in love with Gregoire. The ugly, broken man with the heart of gold.

"You sound like you love him." I told her.

She laughed.

"Yes and no." She admitted. "Yes, My thing is Empathy. I fall in love with all my clients a little bit. But no, I could never have a man like that. I am a whore. Who would marry a whore? Even one who has left the job. So I do not love him. I cannot allow myself to love him."

My heart broke for her a little. Yes, I am under the curse of Romance. It was the fact that she seemed at peace with this declaration.

"Why does he allow himself to be portrayed as the villain in all these jousts. His reputation is awful, people believe him to be a rapist and a murderer. If he doesn't do that…"

"He doesn't. That isn't him. He hates anyone that mistreats women, taking care to be particularly brutal to them in the tournaments. And then it breaks his heart again when those mistreated women go back to their tormentor and call Gregoire a brute. I think he sees his mother in all the badly treated women in the world."

"Then why does he allow people to say that of him?"

She thought about the question. "I think that there are two answers to that question. The first is what he believes which is that it is part of the business that he's in. He once told me that that's what jousting is. The organisers take a Knight that the people are predisposed to like and a Knight that the people are predisposed to hate. They arrange the draw so that the two Knights are bound to meet in the joust or the sword. Then they sell tickets.

""Never think that the draw isn't decided well in advance." He once told me. Gregoire is a large, ugly, brutal man. Those are his words. People hate him and if people hate him then they want to see him get beaten by the Knight in the Golden armour. He takes a cut of the purse and so… It's money.

"But I think that the real reason is that he feels as though he deserves it. He likes to pretend that he doesn't care, he might even believe that himself, but he does care and it hurts him. But what's he going to do about it."

"He could have joined the Knights Errant, or the Knights Francesca."

"He was a Knight Errant. He was Knight Errant enough that he saw their worst side. I don't know why he didn't join the new order but I suspect that he would think it beneath him. I think he thinks that his Father would not like it and he is still trying to please his Father."

"Which he can't."

"Which he can't." She agreed.

I sighed. "Gotta admit, that hits a little close to home for me. I can relate to that quite a lot."

She looked at me oddly. "Yes, I have read your journals. You and he are a lot alike, you know."

"Oh?" I fought down a swell of anger. No-one likes to be associated with a known rapist and murderer. Even if the accusations are untrue.

"Yes. For a start, you are both far more skilled in the bed chamber than people might think to look at you. You are both remarkably gentle."

"Huh." I shook myself free from that train of thought. "The records I have seen state that he still propositions Flower though. To the tune of once a month when he's in Toussaint."

"Yes he does. He still insists on the best and she keeps referring him to me."

"Does he ever complain about that?"

"No. Nor does he complain when she recommends someone else if I am busy."

I nodded.

"So why." I began carefully. "Why is he travelling around the countryside propositioning young women?"

"Are they beautiful?" She looked a little unhappy as she asked.

"Yes."

"Young?"

I nodded.

"Then there is your answer. He is trying to be the kind of Knight that you read about in the storybooks without anyone actually telling him how to do it. He sees a young, beautiful, unattached woman and aims to sweep them off their feet. He wants to be the hero of the story. Just this once. To take the young woman and carry them off to happiness. He chooses the beautiful ones because… why wouldn't he? He knows he needs a wife. He knows he needs children. But he refuses to have illegitimate children because of what happened to him. So he can't have an heir until he's married.

"So he tries to get them young so they can provide him with an heir."

I carefully did not ask her about whether or not I could detect any bitterness in her voice. And whether or not he had ever asked her. I didn't think that there was a way I could do that and not come across as a complete asshat.

"So here's my last question." I said. "This before I go out there and face the music."

She nodded.

"Could he do this? Could he kill these women?"

"Could he? Of course he could. Do not be absurd. You've seen him. He is deadly in his movements and his strength. That kind of power… Of course he could kill those women.

"But would he?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. As I say, he's trying to be a Knight but he doesn't know how. He wants to be the hero but he's portrayed as the villain. He wants to be the storybook hero, but every time he tries, people run away from him, screaming. He can't try and be otherwise because… Fuck, I barely think he can read and write. All he knows how to do is violence. He is shockingly good at it. But he wants to be the hero. He would not do this.

"He would not do this. He is not clever enough to do this. If Gregoire wanted him dead then he would just batter the offending idiot with his sword. He would not disguise himself with other methods.

"He knows why these women said no to him. He knows that he is a terrifying brute of a man and he knows that his behaviour does not help in that regard. He is in desperate need of a friend and a lover but where will he find one. Who would be his friend, knowing that in talking to him, they would be consumed with the same blight on their reputation.

"And he is still trying to prove himself to a dead father who hated him and laughed at him."

I nodded, knowing that I had my answers. To the questions that I had needed to ask as well as so much more. For reasons that I did not entirely understand, I approached where she was sat, curled up onto herself, and gently put my arms around her. Not as a lover but, I hope, as a friend.

"I'm sorry," She sobbed. "A few truths came out there that I did not expect."

"Would it upset you too much if I could tell?"

"Not really. I feel sure that you would not use that against me."

"Friends?" I asked tentatively.

"Friends." She said, pulling back and wiping her eyes. "With benefits?" She asked slyly. "I still kind of want to see what else you're capable of. As I say, I got the feeling that you were not exactly on the top of your game."

"I would like that." I told her. "I should warn you that I might get worse again."

"I know."

"I also want you to know that, if anything makes you feel uncomfortable, then you can tell me and we can stop."

"I know that too. Just as I hope that you know that I will still be charging you. Or rather, charging your fiancee."

"Yeah, because that doesn't make me feel any the more comfortable."

She laughed and recovered. Even though I thought she looked a little haunted.

I moved over to where my clothes had been laid out. I found myself wondering by whom for a moment before I noticed that they were not the right kind of clothes. These were Toussaint again. Bright, primary coloured, impractical frippery.

I swore and found my old shirts and put one one. Followed by starting the long process of putting my armour on. After a few minutes of buckling, strapping and jumping up and down to make sure that everything was properly placed around my body, gentle female hands joined mine. Between the two of us we got everything settled.

"What are your plans for the day?" I asked her.

"I need to go into town." She told me. "I have some personal business to take care of. I'm going to go and pay my respects at the Belles and then I'll come back up here. Still want to do quite a bit of reading. Yourself?"

"I suppose,... I suppose that we have a new body to investigate. Chasing down leads. I know, and believe, that Gregoire probably isn't guilty, but our opinion doesn't cut it. We need to prove that. Then there are lots of leads to chase up. It looks like it's going to be a busy day."

"But first, your family."

"But first my family." I sighed and felt the lump in my throat. "I don't want to do this." I said to her. "I desperately want to ignore what they did and move on."

"I know. But if they did it once, they will do it again."

"I know that too."

"They hurt you." She said gently.

"Yes they did." I admitted. "And in doing so, they hurt others."

We finished up and she turned me to face her. We took a moment to look at each other before she leant forward to kiss me.

"I'll wait up for you." She told me after we were done.

I nodded, slipped my weapons into place, slinging my spear in it's pouch over my shoulder and went out to face my family.

They were a mess. I saw Emma first, she was sitting in one of the arm chairs. Well, I say in the arm chair, it was more like on the edge of the arm chair, knees together, legs sideways as though she was sitting side saddle. She was wearing the same dress that I had seen her in yesterday. The same dress that she had slept on the sofa in. Her hair was a mess, she wasn't wearing makeup and she had a cloth handkerchief that she was twisting round her fingers over and over and over again.

In my mind, Emma belongs among the list of the most beautiful women in the world. Behind Ariadne and I would not be able to say who else would be up there in my opinion, but Emma would be somewhere near the top. And she looked awful.

Automatically, I looked for Laurlen who was standing with her back to the room, drinking from a steaming cup. She at least looked like she had slept overnight. Changed clothes and done her hair. But I have found that the two women are closer together, the more that they agree with each other. The fact that they were separate was telling and I found myself wondering if they had had a fight.

Mark looked old. We had been told to expect that of course, going with his advancing illness, we had been told to expect this. He was leaning on the mantelpiece holding a conversation with Kerrass. He was pale, clammy, drawn and had large bags under his eyelids. He looked as unkempt as I have ever seen him. He is normally not a man that cares too much about his appearance. He sees this lack of care as, skewering the rank I think. But this was something else.

Ariadne was sitting on the couch, looking as she ever did. Still in the same dress with her sleeves rolled up. She looked calm, not quite the false calm that betrays heightened emotional states, but more of an expectant calm.

Kerrass did not give a damn, that did not bother me as much as I thought it would.

I did not see Syanna standing in the back of the room. I either did not see her, or did not care, but she was there.

For a moment, just a moment, I felt a moment of guilt and grief for what I was about to do, even though I was not entirely sure what that was. But then I remembered the rage and grief of Madame Isabelle. Of the shouted anger in the Cockatrice and the broken Lord Tratamara.

And I remembered how angry I was.

Emma saw me first and rose to her feet. "Freddie?" She took a step towards me, but something held her back.

"Thank you all for being here." I said, and even I heard the cold formality in my voice. It was shocking. I remember being angry with my family before but… there was something different to the anger this time. Something different about what had happened.

I still think about what that difference might be.

I looked around the room. "I'm going to talk in a minute." I began. "And when I am done talking I am going to go back to work. I also want you to know that I would give anything to avoid this. Anything at all. But that would be a betrayal, both to myself and to the people that might have died as a result of my inaction."

"Freddie we…"

"I know." I told Emma who stopped speaking. Laurelen went to her and put her hand on Emma's shoulder.

"After I am done talking, we are never going to talk about this again." I went on.

I took another deep breath.

"Barring Sam. The people in this room are the people that I care about most in the world. My best friend and the woman I love. The Elder sister that, I thought, knows me best in the world and the Elder Brother who gave me the courage to pursue what I wanted to do, rather than what Father told me to do. I want you all to know this. I want you all to take that in."

I looked at all of them again, making sure to catch the eyes.

"There are other friends to be sure. Other people that I am coming to care about. Ciri, Helfdan and crew, Shani, friends from University, Jerome and those villagers from the north, Sammi and her sister, Father Anchor and his wife, Rickard and the remaining bastards, Guillaume and his wife who I am looking forward to getting to know better. And Sammy of course. But the people in this room are those people that I Love the most. More than anyone else in the continent. You need to know that, accept that. Do not look away from it."

This time, Mark met my eyes and nodded.

"If any of you. Any of you, keep anything from me again. Anything, especially when it comes to me, or people that I might be able to help. Any of you. I will not hesitate. I will not blink. Even as it breaks my heart. I will climb on my horse and I will ride away, without looking back. You will never see me again. I will never speak to you again. If you enter a room where I am present, even if it is the Empress' own court and I would be committing treason to do so, I will leave. You will be dead to me. If it is one of you and not the others, you will not be able to get to me by appealing to someone else. I will simply ignore that topic and pretend that they, or others, have not spoken."

I took another pause and looked around. Of all people, it was Kerrass that dropped his gaze from mine first.

"This is not a bluff." I went on, fairly calmly I thought. "This is not hyperbole. I am not being dramatic or saying this to hurt any of you. I am a Professor of Oxenfurt and if you had too much influence there then there are any number of learning institutions on the continent that would take me.

"I would find acceptance in the Imperial Court, or in Skellige I imagine. I am sure that The Empress would love to find some crony of hers to marry me to. I would find employment. I would not need family money. I would not need, or want, family support. And I would not care how much that would damage you in my doing so."

This time, Mark would not look at me. Tears streamed down Emma's face but she held my gaze. Ariadne had not moved.

"You. All of you. Betrayed me. In doing so...You kept me from saving lives. I do not know this. But I hold you responsible for those deaths. I will not be shy of saying so, to anyone. I don't care what that does to your reputation. To business interests, social standing or religious standing. You have all, maybe irrevocably although I hope not, damaged the trust that I have for you. You should know that, if you want to repair the relationship between me, and you, then it will be you that has to put in the work on that. If you do not lift a finger, then I will not either."

"Freddie we…" Emma tried again.

"I know." My anger snarled out of me and I forced myself to take a deep breath. "I know," I began again, a bit calmer. Emma looked as though I had slapped her.

"I know that what you did, you did out of love. I get that. You were wrong. Believe me that that love, as well as the love I have for each of you is the only reason, that I care enough to say this much. It is the only reason I am prepared to give…. Any of you, a second chance.

"You all hurt me. Badly. Maybe permanently. I need you all to know that."

I finally dared to look back at Ariadne. Her gaze had not moved, it remained locked on my eyes and her gaze was like a whirlpool that threatened to suck me down into the depths of an ocean.

"I will not bring this up again." I said, my voice sounding distant to me, as if echoing down a long corridor. "I would advise you all to do the same in my presence, you will only be reminding me of the pain that you all caused me, and through me, the families and friends of those people that have lost someone." I said. "Neither do I wish for an apology. I have already forgiven you. But understand that it is conditional forgiveness, and that I will not forget. And now, I have work to do to try and catch the fucker who is killing these women. Good day."

I strode past all of them and out the door.

"Good speech." Syanna said as she fell in beside me. "And for the record, if you do find the need to leave all that behind you, I could use someone like you. And I can think of a number of the beauties of Toussaint who would be interested in meeting you. I know it's easier for me saying that, but… You might be surprised at just how eligible you are. You would not be broken-hearted for long."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"I ummm. Thank you for the sentiment commander but…"

I felt light headed.

"I'm feeling a bit."

I was physically picked up by several armoured gauntlets and taken to a balcony where I vomited into a flower pot before collapsing and leaning against the wall.

"Before I fetch Ariadne." Syanna told me. "I would say that, it is harder to stand against the people that you love, than it is to stand against an army."

I was dimly aware of the sounds of her footsteps leaving as I focused on sucking down huge lungfuls of air. Shortly after, I don't know how long. TO me it was both a lifetime and a heartbeat of time. I felt Ariadne's presence next to me as she knelt and took me in her arms.

Ann was lovely and everything, but sometimes you just need the comfort of the woman that you love. Even when she has made you angry enough that your brain shuts down.

My… fit, or whatever you want to call it burnt itself out fairly quickly under Ariadne's care. Kerrass was also around but didn't say anything and although I don't know for certain, I understand that I was under guard during that period.

But after that, I did my best to suit action to words.

We rode to Corvo Bianco, during which time Syanna told us that Captain De La Tour was going through Lady De Launfal's residence to see what could be seen. Apparently, what could be seen was a lot, and I decided that I would go and help with that effort if nothing else occurred.

We also learned that Lord Palmerin had stayed at the Knights, chapter house for the night in the company of his nephew and would be riding back to Beauclair where he would meet us at the house of his estranged wife. According to Syanna who had received the message, he was taking it rather hard. A fact not helped by the fact that Natanis had wandered off somewhere, as was her wont.

I have never been to Corvo Bianco. The new Lord and Lady of the Manor are said to be jealous of their privacy. If you go there for any other reason than a personal invitation from either of them, then you can expect to be removed from the property rather firmly, if politely. If you choose to persist, then you can find yourself being transported by a magical gateway to a height of 20ft above a deep part of the river, or in one case, the top of Mt Gorgon.

The place is known to be one of the oldest vineyards in Toussaint history and the estate, although far from large, is well disposed to the growing of grapes and olives. The estate has something of a sinister reputation as it is well known that previous owners have come to sticky ends or otherwise had to pass the estate on in order to pay off debts. Or the estate gets reclaimed by the Duchy for the crimes of the previous owner.

There was a, not insignificant, period of time where the vineyard was more famous for the parties that were hosted there, rather than the wine, or olives that were produced. If you would like to know more about the history of Corvo Bianco as well as the history of any of the other vineyards that are around Toussaint then I can recommend "The history of the ancient Vineyards by Ser Henri Sylvestre". An interesting book for general knowledge and small talk tidbits. And Sir Henri does list his sources enough that if there is anything there that you are interested in, then there is plenty of scope for future study.

However, since Lord Geralt took it over and was later joined by Lady Yennefer, the place has begun to thrive. Not least because both of them make a point of staying out of the way of the management of the Vineyard and let the, far more competent professionals get on with it. As a result, the last two Wine harvests have been considerably more than the naysayers have predicted. The Olive harvests were a bit slower to get on their feet due to the neglect of the olive trees by the previous owner, but that industry is now thriving as well.

Riding up, the place is quite small, several small houses that, I understand, are the residences of the MajorDomo as well as the private Cook and the overseer of the fields. There are also a couple of newer cottages on some of the more remote parts of the land that are, according to Ariadne, there for long term visiting friends of either Lord Geralt or Lady Yennefer.

A one-horse stable, currently empty, as well as a well equipped workshop was nearby. To the right of the entrance I could see some extensive rose gardens, a large glass house which I assumed would be alchemical in nature, as well as other more, herby scents on the wind.

The house itself is on the small side as these things go. I didn't visit at the time but having been back since, I can tell you that it has everything that the owners would want. Both tend to prefer an outdoor life and do not really use the house itself except for sleeping, eating, storing their more expensive books and paintings, taking shelter from the elements and meeting friends. Both do their practical study and work elsewhere.

So instead of going to the house, some workers took our horses and Ariadne, confidently led us into the cellars, the entrance of which was well separate from the house.

"Interesting place." I said.

"My understanding is that, like Beauclair, Corvo Bianco is built on old Elven Ruins." Ariadne told me. "The cave network is extensive and the owners have expanded it. Mostly storage for goods as well as the distilling, but there is a large Laboratory that both Yennefer and Geralt use regularly. And before you ask? Yes. We do have permission to be here."

I nodded, feeling a little more satisfied. I was not looking forward to having to explain to Lady Yennefer as to why a dead body had been brought into her house.

Ariadne led us through the well lit and ventilated tunnels, to a large room. There was a large alchemical set, as well as numerous tools of the more blood curdling variety. On the table, lay the naked body of the late Josette de Launfal.

I have been to autopsies before. I have been there when Kerrass has examined victims and when I first thought that I might make a passable doctor, I had also seen several other displays of the worst that could be done to the physical form.

I was not disgusted. Nor was I physically sick. But what had happened to Lady Josette was both disgusting and sickening.

"What do you have for us?" Syanna asked, after taking a swallow.

"I don't know how useful any of this is." Ariadne said. "But I don't need as much sleep as humans do so I worked all night. So, first of all the writing on the walls."

She went over to the Alchemy kit. "I'm as confident as I can be that it's pigs blood. That's not as scientific as I would like but it's definitely not her blood. It's similar to human blood but not quite there, so my guess is Pig's blood."

"Wait," Syanna said," Human blood is similar to Pigs blood."

"Oh yes."

"How?"

Ariande gazed at her. "It's to do with the fundamental building blocks of life." She said. "I can explain it to you if you wish but I would need to start now and you may, you may have an idea of what we're talking about and why pigs are so similar to humans after about four years of intense study. That is if you are bright and a driven student."

Syanna laughed. "Fair enough. Please continue."

"The blood was applied to the wall with a brush and the blood was already coagulating."

"What?"

"It was scabbing up. Drying. Becoming goo rather than liquid."

"I see." Syanna rubbed her head. "It seems like I'm learning a lot today."

"It is never too late to start learning." I muttered. An old lesson that a tutor had insisted I learn from a young age.

"So the brush would have been clamming up and becoming useless. I would guess that it would be some kind of heavy duty thing. Not an artist's brush, more the kind of thing you would use to tar a ship, or whitewash a house."

"How long does it take for pigs blood to… coagulate?" Kerrass sounded the word out carefully.

"As I say," Ariadne continued. "Pigs are very similar to humans,"

Kerrass nodded. "So it would have had to happen recently."

"That would be my guess. Now, as for Lady Josette herself. I can tell you that she had eaten a few hours before her death. A heady cocktail of roast goose, bread, cheese, a red berry sauce, onion and sage. Several glasses of wine as well as sperm."

"A heady cocktail." Syanna commented.

"She also had sex before she was killed and, as best as I can tell, the sex was consensual."

"I won't ask how you know that." Syanna said.

Ariadne did not rise to the bait.

"I don't know, I suspect, but I'm pretty sure I'm right. After that, I am confident she was knocked senseless by at least one blow to the head but probably more than one. She was probably dying already from those blows if she hadn't received care as those blows shattered her skull. They were not gentle. Then she was bound and gagged and dragged somewhere before she was killed with a slash to the throat. Her insides were then pulled out, rather haphazardly. During the process of which, she died.

"It was the slash to the throat that killed her and she bled to death fairly quickly. But, as I say, there was bleeding on the brain and she was almost certainly in a lot of pain. Skull fractures hurt."

"Can you tell us anything about the weapon, or weapons used in the attack." Kerrass asked

"Yes. The skull fracture was caused by a metal object, spherical in nature and I would guess as to the pommel of a weapon of some kind. Whatever, it was certainly not made of wood.

"Beyond that, the other, slashing injuries were caused by a sharp blade at the throat. Again, if I was forced to guess, I would say a dagger or fighting blade. It was razor sharp and I doubt that she felt it. The blows that proceeded to eviscerate her were done with a hooked blade of some kind which gouged into her innards. I would go so far as to suggest some kind of butcher's tool. A brutish and imprecise instrument."

Syanna nodded. "So, a butcher, or someone with access to a butcher?"

We all nodded.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Syanna asked.

Ariadne shook her head.

Syanna sighed. "Then I would like some sunshine."

When we got outside, the Major domo had arrived with a tray of fruit juices. I can't speak for the others, but I accepted gratefully.

"So." Syanna began. "So she was meeting someone, or several someone's, for a tryst. Then she was either taken from that place or she was on her way home when she was attacked."

"So the killer either knew that she was going to be there." Kerrass began. "Or had been following her."

"Either way, we need to find out who it was that she was meeting with." Syanna said. "He's either in on it, or is a dupe and might be able to tell us something."

"Either way, the answer for that kind of thing is found at her residence." I said. "A lady like that? With that reputation and managing that many scandals. She will have a diary somewhere with her assignations written down on it, carefully, with red ink. More than likely that she will even have planned out her "drunken debauchery" time."

Kerrass nodded agreement.

"Prophets, but I could do with some drunken Debauchery about now." Syanna muttered, closing her eyes.

"Not being funny, Commander, but when did you last get some rest?"

Syanna smirked. "It's been a while. A couple of hours here and there. Rietta and I didn't leave off our gossiping until early this morning."

"Then can I suggest you get your head down for a while." I said. "Send some minions to look at some Butchers or something, grab yourself something to eat and get some sleep. You can plot your conquest of the good Guard Captain later and we will send word if we find anything."

Syanna laughed, a little more genuinely this time and allowed herself to be ordered off. Kerrass and I were given to the charge of a guard who said he would guide us to the late Madam Josette's residence where Lord Palmerin and Sir Guillaume would meet us later.

Ariadne stayed behind to clear up after herself, claiming that Madam Yennefer would not forgive her if she left her dissection lab in the state that it was in at the moment. There was an uncomfortable undertone to that however which was that we might need the table again later and we needed to be ready. She told me that she would join us again later if she got the chance, but to not hesitate to call if we needed her.

So Kerrass and I rode back to Beauclair under the guidance of a young guardsman who looked as though he was about twelve. There was an uncomfortable silence now, we were awkward and uncomfortable. Not as badly as we had been before but it still needed addressing.

"Is it me." I began tentatively, "or are the guards getting younger by the day?"

"It's you." Kerrass told me before tilting his head on one side. "Well, it's partly you. You are becoming seasoned Freddie. A veteran of multiple actions and the distance is not age, but rather experience. Experience ages a man and, well, you've aged."

We rode in silence for a minute or two. "Seasoned," I said. "That's a horrible thing to say to a man. It makes me think that someone has tipped salt and pepper over me."

Kerrass chuckled. "You know what you've done now." He said. "Every time someone says about sending seasoned troops towards anything, you are going to have this vision of their superior officer, standing on some kind of platform as the soldiers walk under him. He will have large bags of salt and pepper which he tosses out in handfuls over the marching men."

The image of the Emperor as was, standing over the Invading armies of the North with a giant salt shaker over his shoulder, tipping the… well…. Seasoning over the troops was a powerful one.

We both laughed.

"How can you laugh?" Our escort demanded, turning his horse suddenly so that we stopped in the road. "People are dying. Jack is out there. How can you be so cruel?"

Kerrass and I looked at each other. "Do you wanna take this one or shall I?" Kerrass asked.

"You do it." I told him. "You are better at this kind of thing than I am."

Kerrass nodded before considering for a moment. "In a short while, Lord Palmerin de Launfal is going to be arriving back at Beauclair. We will then be forced to inform him of the fact that his, admittedly estranged wife, has been murdered. Horribly. He will know that she is dead, but he might not know the full truth so we are going to have to do that to him.

"There is a reason that the most dangerous job in the world is to act as the messenger. In that moment is Lord Palmerin going to laugh, cry, shout, cheer, get angry, deny everything. Or will he attack us. We don't know. We never know and there is never any way to be able to tell. But after all of that is done, we must go back to work. Even if a grown man has hurled threats and insults, we must ignore them as the grief of a broken man and then we must go back to work."

The young Knight looked at the pair of us.

"You are a Knight." Kerrass went on. "I am a Witcher, but you will act as my surrogate over the coming years. The Knights Francesca must act as Witcher, Guardsman, thief taker, detective, soldier and all different kinds of things. You are going to see some horrible fucking things. Even if your career is considered boring by other people in the profession. You are going to see murdered women, children and babies. You are going to see people who have suffered deaths and injuries worse than you can possibly imagine. Just over the last week, we have seen good, noble, beautiful, charming women being raped, tortured and murdered in the most horrible way. Then you must carry word of it to the relatives, shattering their worlds as you do so and then, when you have done all of that, you must get back to work.

"We make jokes because we need to get by. That's it. If you dwell on it, it will kill you. THat simple. You should aim to do that sooner rather than later. Even if you learn to laugh at the situation quickly, the truth of the matter is that you still might end up a gibbering lunatic. But even then, joking helps. Humour helps."

The young Knight had visibly wilted.

"In the meantime." Kerrass went on. "If this truth is uncomfortable. If you don't think you can do that. Then you should consider whether Knighthood is your calling. I strongly suspect that the Knight Commander would take it well. But Knighthood is not all shining armour, snapping banners and honourable combat amongst men. You will be an extremely lucky man if you can count the number of babies on spikes that you see over the course of your career on two hands."

"I…" The Knight swallowed. "I will think on what you said."

"I would do so." Kerrass told him. "And it is always a mistake to judge others before you turn around and are judged yourself."

"Yes sir. I will think on that as well."

"You do that. In the meantime, lead on, try not to eavesdrop and consider that humour did not delay us in the pursuit of our job. Your outrage did."

Red faced and, I thought, a little older, the Knight turned his Horses head and we continued the short ride back into Beauclair

We rode on a little way.

"How did I do?" Kerrass wondered.

"Not bad." I told him. "A little short and more brutal than I would have gone with I suspect. But at the same time, It needed to be done."

"It did get us back on the road faster." We both laughed, also noticing how the young Knight ahead of us hunched his shoulders a little, much to both our amusement.

I hunted around for another topic of conversation in a desperate attempt to keep the awkwardness at bay. "So how did things go last night?" I tried. "Did you manage to catch up with the lovely Lady in question?"

I carefully did not mention her name. That's how gossip starts and although I was confident of Kerrass' ability to fight a duel, it would be time better spent elsewhere.

"I did not." Kerrass answered. "Nor would it have helped if I had been earlier. She had been called back to her husband's estates where she could be, "better protected"."

"Bullshit." I snorted. "Do you think you've been found out?"

"I don't see how." Kerrass mused. "We've been careful. The only people that know for sure what's going on are the people that we both trust. Her… landlady told me that the message was genuine, that the man carrying it was known to both of them to be a member of her husband's guards and, to be fair, it's not an invalid concern. Beautiful woman, famed for taking nighttime walks, being at risk when Jack is on the prowl. A husband is responsible for her protection and even if he doesn't care, or doesn't notice her infidelities…"

"Being so focused on his own."

"Indeed. But I can see that concern. So she had already gone in the afternoon, so fast she couldn't send a message, nor really leave one with her friend."

"Well, I'm sorry Kerrass."

"Don't be. We were doing important work, you are feeling better for it which is a wonderful bonus, and this is the risk during these kinds of affairs. We both knew it was a risk that we would have to stop unexpectedly so… Why worry about it. It meant that I could actually get some rest after all and join everyone else for the bollocking that we so richly deserve."

We rode in silence for a while before Kerrass took a deep breath and sighed. "Out of ten Freddie, how angry are you with me really?"

I took a deep breath and swallowed the first answer that came to my head. The question seemed to deserve more than the initial response.

"Is it possible to be two levels of angry?" I said finally. "On the one hand, same as with everyone else, I'm not that angry. You did what you did because you were worried for me. I can understand that. I get it. So I'm not that angry about that. I should be, but I'm not that angry. As a whole, if I look at the entire group of you, the group of conspirators, then I'm not that angry. But on the other hand I'm furious with the lot of you, to a different degree from person to person, but I'm still furious."

Kerrass nodded. "I think I get it." He said. "I'm trying really hard not to just push all the blame onto Emma or Mark, but mostly Emma. Your sister was terrifying when she insisted as to what would have happened."

"Did she threaten you?"

"Yes and no. The threat was suggested."

I nodded, not really surprised."It's odd." I said. "Both you and Ariadne... I should be angriest with the two of you the most, and sometimes I am. The two of you know the premium I place on being able to trust the people around me and the sights and sounds that… well…. I can see and hear. And both of you have breached that trust. But on the other hand, Emma and Mark who don't know the person I am now as well as either you or Ariadne do. There is a part of me that is saying, surely you guys should have realised the way that this was going to end. There was absolutely no way that that was going to end well. No way."

"No there wasn't." He took a breath. "I should have come and talked to you. I promised myself that I wasn't going to apologise but I am now. I am sorry Freddie."

"Thank you Kerrass, but as I say, you are already forgiven. But not being angry with any of you?" I shrugged, "That is going to take some work. You did it with the best intentions, but I feel betrayed and I am beyond hurt and angry about it."

I scratched behind my ear. "I won't lie either. There was a time there where I almost decided that it wasn't going to be worth the effort. That, even though I could forgive what had happened because of the intentions involved, I very nearly just gave the entire thing up as a bad job. I could find a place for myself in the world now, I am not as confined in my options as I was when this whole thing with travelling with you started."

"Including going to the Imperial Court." Kerrass agreed. "I think that that terrified your family." He said. "Even more so because it wasn't a threat was it."

"It was not."

"Although I notice that you're happily discussing it with me, despite saying that you would refuse to talk about it in the future."

"Yeah, I think that declaration might have been a bit… unrealistic of me."

"Maybe so."

I would have liked to talk with Kerrass further. I wanted to melt back into a friendship. I was beginning to feel as though our drifting apart was an inevitable thing. Before too much longer we were going to go our separate ways. It had been, all but, decided that it was time for me to stop following him around on the path. Yes, there were some pleasant fictions about us being able to meet up again after a couple of years and I had taken the time to recover properly. But that was an illusion and I think we both knew it.

He would, or could, stay with me until my wedding day. He admitted that he had things that he needed to take care of in advance of this event, but that was when we were going to part ways indefinitely. He would always be my closest friend, you cannot share the things that we have shared and say otherwise, but that was the point at which our paths would diverge.

We would never be strangers, I knew that. He would visit often, that would be if he didn't winter with us every year. And I would be involved in his life due to my consultation with the modern efforts at building new Witcher schools. But the world would change after that. We would no longer be marching together and at that moment, as we rode into Beauclair, I found myself wondering if we had already begun that separation process. Kerrass was already heading off and having romantic adventures where I was kept out of the loop. We were increasingly out of step with each other. A process that had started back on the field at Brenna, but it was… I wondered if the Kerrass who had sailed the Skelligan isles with me would have made the same mistake as to keep something like this from me.

I would have liked to spend some more time with him on that. Some more time to banter and otherwise shoot the shit. But we had arrived at our destination.

The residence of the late Lady Josette de Launfal was a strange kind of house where the balance of the building had been tilted towards the "old" rather than luxurious.

I should explain.

The centre of everything in a city is the palace or keep at the middle of it. There are any number of reasons for this starting with the fact that in the event of an enemy attack, people congregate inside the palace in order to be safe. But also, even when the ruler of that castle is gone, it is still the centre for trade, diplomacy and civil structure.

As the settlement gets bigger, you often find that some of these functions spill out into the rest of the settlement so you find certain functions of government taking place nearby.

So to be in the thick of things. You need to be close to the palace. If anyone was to attack, you would be the first person into the protective arms of the fortifications walls. If there is news, you would be the first to hear it and if something changes then you will be the first voice heard as you will stride into court to make your presence felt all that much sooner.

So the prime areas of real estate in any city like Beauclair are those ones nearest the palace.

But then the city starts to expand. The estates and town-houses near the palace start to get jammed together as land owners discover that if they jam as many houses together in a small place then they can rent those houses to visiting nobles, ambassadors and merchants. So those noble families that had bought the house decades, or even centuries before, suddenly find that their conditions are cramped and unpleasant. So they buy a second, grander house elsewhere.

Or.

A merchant or new monied noble cannot get a house close to the keep and has a, theoretically, much grander and more impressive house elsewhere in order to show off what they were capable of. And yes, this is what my Father did with Castle Coulthard and yes, this is why people hated him.

So then these larger, wealthier looking, if not in practice, start popping up on the outskirts of town. So visitors to the city will look at this and assume that the larger compounds are where the real money lives whereas the truth is that the older, wealthy families have a small townhouse…

I say small. They're always big enough to hold a ball with a dining room, drawing room, library, study, several bedrooms and servant's quarters. It's just small as a matter of perspective.

…. Closer to the palace where, unless there is a large society event, there are only one or two people in residence. Otherwise, the rest of the family live at the country estate out of town. Sometimes even with the Master of the house travelling between the two before and after rest days, or even at the beginning and end of the day where the townhouse becomes a larger, glorified office.

And yes, a place for occasional trysts to take place.

And now that we've gone through the history lesson, specifically "history and civic planning with Professor Freddie" I can talk about the house itself.

As Lord Palmerin de Launfal had once told me, he had bought this house for his wife when it became clear that their differences were irreconcilable come the aftermath of the massacre of the Fishmarket. Back when Lord Palmerin was accused of cowardice by most, including his wife, and Lord De Launfal hadn't had the decency to find some honest cause to lose his life in.

Not for lack of trying.

But in the end, he had retreated into the country before rejoining society as one of the weapons masters of the Knights of Saint Francesca and his wife still hated him. Whereas he had found a new purpose in life and the love, no matter how temporary, of a Succubus, his wife Josette had sunk into bitterness and debauchery. Where her every action was designed as an insult to her husband.

So in the end, out of guilt or grief at the loss of someone who was once dear to him, Lord De Launfal bought her a house, equipped and furnished it and gave her a generous allowance.

It would all have been a lot easier, for both of them I suspect, if they had been allowed to divorce. But unlike some cultures, Skellige for example, such a thing is not permitted in Toussaint.

The house itself was a fairly nice one, a little bit removed from the palace itself but it was an old money manor house. Tall, thin and hemmed in on either side by other houses. One of which was the headquarters of one of the more famous tailors of Toussaint society. Four or five floors of rooms that housed the lady herself, her servants, every luxury that Lord De Launfal could afford for his wife as well as some others that she had bought with her allowance. And I have never, ever seen a bigger "fuck you" from one person to the other as I have seen in that house.

From the outside, it seemed like a nice enough house. Doppled glass windows which made it difficult to see in from the outside. The brick work was painted over with a maroon red paint with Golden tracery. Hanging baskets hung everywhere and boxes of those same flowers were under every window. It was a nice looking house. I would have quite happily lived in such a thing permanently, let alone had it as some kind of town residence in Oxenfurt or Novigrad.

Angral is sufficiently close to Angraal to mean that a townhouse would be pointless and a waste of space and money. It never occurred to me to think of the place as something like that.

But inside? That was something else entirely.

The first thing that hit me in the face with a shovel was the portrait on one of the walls. It depicted a beautiful dark haired woman. I had never met Lady de Launfal except in passing. But it was clearly her, despite the ridiculously small mask that the figure was wearing. The figure was obviously the centre of attention at an orgy. Her head was thrown back as if the artist had captured her at a moment of ecstasy, while she was still being… you know what? We're gonna call it "being serviced" by dozens of other figures who were cloaked and masked more securely than the figure in the foreground.

As I think I have said before, I am not that much of an art critic, I see pictures that I like and that will be the entire matter for the thing. But as far as I could tell, it was a good portrait, well painted, even tastefully done.

The scent of the flowers which, out in the fresh winter air, had been crisp and clear, became a heady, intoxicating scent which I almost reeled from.

Gagging.

Captain De La Tour met us in the entrance hallway and grinned at my reaction.

"Heady stuff isn't it." He said.

"How did anyone breathe in this… soup?" I wondered as I pulled a piece of cloth out and tied it round my face in a mask to breathe through.

Just for a moment, I was running through the trees, the air was read and I was exhausted. The stench of blood, ash, decay and my own vomit was in my nose and I could hear the hoofbeats like distant drums.

"Steady." Sir Rickard called and I blinked.

"Are you alright Freddie?" Kerrass asked.

"I'm fine," I said, tugging the cloth down from around my mouth and nose. It had just been a flash, just a flash, less than a heartbeat. "The air got to me, is all. I could do with some water and somewhere to sit."

Damien dispatched a guard to do so and I sat on a chair in the entrance hall. I recovered almost instantly when I discovered that the chair had a hole in the seat, just where a man's, or a woman's genitalia might rest.

I stood up quickly.

Damien saw my reaction.

"Yes, and would you believe that that's the least of things that we've found?"

"I would," Kerrass replied. "I would believe such a thing easily."

"Fortunately, most of the toys of that nature are consigned to the basement." Damien said. "Since the news of Lady De Launfal's death has gotten out… Prophets know how that kind of thing always seems to happen so quickly but it does, every single time. But since that happened, I've had two factors turn up at the door wanting to enquire as to whether or not they could purchase Lady de Launfal's "collection". For a person or persons unknown."

"Who were they acting for?"

"One refused to say, but he's under arrest and I suspect we'll have the name shortly. The other of which was Sir Raoul Le Blanc believe it or not."

"I believe it." I said. 'He'll have the pieces out and on display at a party thrown to honour the dead women but especially Lady de Launfal. He will nod and smile as he watches Lord de Launfal's face."

Kerrass grinned. "That's not the real question though is it." He said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, fun though it is watching Freddie get all bloodthirsty and angry. How did this story get out that Lady de Launfal was no longer with us?"

"There could be any number of ways." Damien admitted. "We are new at this. Previously a Knight was able to choose his own honour and dictate that accordingly. Now? We require basic standards from the Knights and the Guards. But many think those standards do not apply to them because they are who they say they are. Or that the rules can, and should, be broken in certain circumstances."

"Like what?" I wondered.

"Oh, anything. Family debts and associations, a friendly oath over a cup of wine."

"Ok, I get the idea."

"Yes," Damien admitted, the ship is leaky. But to plug those leaks we need to educate people. This is a situation for the carrot, not the stick."

Kerrass nodded. "I tend to agree. Not ideal though."

"Is anything?" Damien countered.

"Ok. So what else have we got? Other than a collection of implements that will make Freddie blush."

"I doubt that I will blush that much Kerrass."

Kerrass raised an eyebrow.

"Kerrass, you have to remember the thing that I do. How did I learn to please a woman? I read a book. How did I decide what I liked and disliked? I read a book. That's how I know, exactly what the chair is for."

Kerrass' smile grew. "Ah Freddie. Never stop surprising me."

"I will endeavour to try."

"In which case," Damien jumped in. "I'm going to need you to tell me what some of these things are and what they're for."

"Well that's going to be fun." I managed to keep my face straight. "May I ask why?"

"I need to know because some of them could be used for very real torture. The manufacture of such devices is illegal by Ducal decree and I would like to know the difference between something used for torture and something used for pleasure."

I laughed at him. "My understanding is that, if you have the taste for it, one can turn into another awfully quickly. How long will it take though? I am hungry to get into the papers."

"Not that long I should think."

"I will get out of your way. I think." Kerrass said. More your area than mine I think Freddie "I need a guide Damien, preferably someone who was there the night that "Jack" or whoever, whatever it was, led you men a chase. Where was he seen, what was he seen doing, timings that kind of thing."

Damien nodded and Kerrass was led off to collect his guide.

What followed was the most entertaining, embarrassing and excruciating hours of my life. In the end, I could not immediately recognise many of the things that Lady de Launfal had in her collection. I could recognise many of them, some of them straight away and some others of them after a certain amount of turning them over and over in my hands until the implement eventual purpose becoming clear, whereupon I carefully put the thing back where we had found it, often inside a velvet lined box that had been set aside for precisely that purpose with an almost overwhelming desire to wash my hands.

But there were still things in there that I did not recognise and could not tell what they would be used for. I will not go through them however for fear that you, gentle reader, might feel that you are otherwise compromised by such matters.

My favourite though, and it was my favourite more for Damien's assumption about it, was a large wooden stand. Shaped like a diagonal cross, slightly biased towards the vertical. At each extreme of the arms of the cross were small hooks. The purpose of the thing is so that people can be tied to it, or restrained on it so that lovers can… well… do things to them.

There is no getting away from the fact, none at all, that it is a very similar contraption to the kind of rack that torturers tie you to before they set about you with implements of a much less pleasant nature. The differences being that this wood was carefully smoothed, varnished and there were a number of cushions built into it to ensure that the person, well, strapped to the thing, would be as comfortable as you can be when tied to a large wooden cross. In theory so that you wouldn't hurt yourself while thrashing around with pleasure.

Captain De La Tour thought it was a hat stand, maybe a coat stand, but certainly something to which clothes and things were leant.

But even then we started to get some idea of the character of the woman that we were dealing with. Ariadne was summoned, not least because we thought that she might have an insight into one or two items where even my extensive teenaged research in furtive corners of various libraries, had failed us. She was able to identify, or guess, at a few more of the items. But then Ariadne made a suggestion.

"Do you know that it's all but impossible to properly clean some of these things?" She commented while looking at something that looked like a thumb screw. But only if thumbscrews came padded and layered with purple fur.

I put the thing that I was looking at back where I found it and wiped my hands on my trousers. "Oh? Could you tell who had used them?"

"I think I could rig up a quick test to see if the lady herself had used them certainly."

I exchanged glances with Damien who raised an eyebrow at me.

"Please." I told Ariadne who nodded, picked up a couple of the implements and gated back to her borrowed laboratory. Or even her own Laboratory in Angral for all I know.

"What are you thinking?" Damien wondered.

"What if?" I began. "What if all of this is just for show?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if?... Bare with me on this. What if she was the kind of woman that bought all of this stuff, and had it all made just because it made Lord Palmerin pay for it all."

"But we know that Lady de Launfal was free with her affections."

'Yes. But promiscuity does not automatically mean that you are into this kind of thing. Some of this stuff is… really quite extreme." I gestures to some of the implements. "Some of the books I read would suggest that this kind of… kink play is actually enjoyed better between consenting adults who are well accustomed to each other's…" I thought of Ariadne. "Erogenous zones. If someone doesn't know you, or your limits and what you like, it strikes me that that thing," I pointed at a metal stick with a spiked wheel on the end "could really hurt."

"It's a lovely theory Lord Fre… Freddie. But I don't see how that helps us."

"It will tell us more about the lady in question. Still, I'm just speculating at the moment. Could you point me in the direction of where the papers are going to be. As well as any servants."

The servants were terrified and my opinion of Lady de Launfal began to sink. Anyone who leaves their servants looking afraid is the sort of person that I am not going to like. I had to spend a, not small, amount of time to tell them that they were not in any trouble, that the only reason that they would be in any trouble would be if they had been doing anything illegal on behalf of their mistress, or if they tried to keep anything from us.

Eventually, a butler was chosen as the sacrificial offering and was shown into "The study". The poor man was much younger than most butlers that I have ever seen. This due to the fact that butlers are normally in charge of running the entire household. This requires a certain amount of experience, patience, skill and various other factors.

Such things are not generally grouped together in young people.

It was clear why this person had been hired though. He was the very image of a young, pretty, virile young man. He had long blonde hair, a cleft in his chin, high cheekbones and if I am any kind of a judge, there is someone's bastard offspring in that face. He was well built in all areas except his brain. A factor which, I rather thought, Lady de Launfal had rather taken advantage of.

Let's put it this way. He might have been older than me, but if he was, it was not by much and the age difference would have been more than made up for by a painful naivete that was soul-crushing. So my innate and instinctive jealousy of the kind of person that had been born with all the luck. The looks, the charisma and the athletic build, soon fell by the wayside as I realised just how much Lady de Launfal had tormented him and the other members of the household staff.

I'm not going to follow my normal method of trying to transcribe the entire interview. I rather think that it would be boring, tedious and… excruciating to read. It was embarrassing when I read my notes back to myself. There was a note, a little doodle that I would add in in the margin, over and over and over again.

"Sounds like paradise without being so."

In other words. It was the kind of house that sounds like a fun place to be when you are a young teenager and just discovering the differences between men and women. But in actuality, it would be like living in a permanent place of torment. Surrounded by sex but without the satisfaction, without the gratification.

Turns out that he was the second butler to be hired. The first butler had been dismissed in disgrace after laying his hands on the lady of the household in a "presumptuous manner". The rest of the servants were hired for the physical appearance rather than their skills or experience. They were not allowed to be married or in any kind of relationship. If any of them entered into a relationship with anyone else on staff then that was grounds for instant dismissal. As was pregnancy. In the meantime, all the servants had to be around an aura of almost constant sexual frustration.

From what he told me, Lady de Launfal liked the idea of a horrific scandal. Especially if it would do more to cause pain to her husband. She liked the idea of having an affair with a servant, but when one servant had tried to act on… whatever had happened. She had rebelled and sacked him.

He told me stories about how he would be set some kind of hard, physical task to perform which would make him all sweaty, resulting in his thin clothing and uniform to stick to his body. Which she would then watch and stop just short of touching.

He told one story where Lady de Launfal had invited friends round to sit and have drinks while he worked in his shirtsleeves. Lady de Launfal had complimented his physical form before her friends had become former friends and left in discomfort.

It turns out that the plants were rumoured to have long term aphrodisiac qualities and whether or not that was true, it was true that the servants walked around in a state of sexual stimulation. The artwork, the implements and the behaviour of the Mistress of the house bringing home lover after lover after lover. Where the servants were expected to attend, often during the act, in order to feed the one fantasy that was certain that Lady de Launfal was subject to.

She was an exhibitionist.

But even then, that didn't seem to make her happy. Indeed, she only seemed to get angrier and more bitter. The paradox was most notable in the selection of the female staff. The oldest of which was nineteen, the youngest was sixteen. All of them were beautiful. But that beauty also inspired jealousy in the, increasingly bitter woman who would strike at the girl in question. When the girl in question wept, the lady of the household would instantly be contrite and order a bonus paid for the girl before the bitterness would return.

It was awful.

So why were they afraid to talk to me? They were still afraid of her. She had been insistent that if word got out about what happened in her house, then they would be fired and she would tell everyone that would listen that they had been inappropriate with her person.

So did that earlier Butler actually lay his hands on the lady?

It was hard to say. I thanked the man and let him go while making a note to make sure that all of these servants would be properly looked after in the long run.

At the time, I couldn't face the prospect of interviewing any of the maids.

So I moved onto the diaries and her correspondence, at which time I changed my opinion about Lady de Launfal again.

If they hadn't been written by the same hand, and I have some training in spotting people emulating someone else's handwriting which is a lesser known skill in the work of a historian, I would have been prepared to swear that the two sets of papers were written by two different women.

The first group were the letters and the correspondence. These were written in a flowing, happy kind of prose. The woman that they portrayed was happy in her scandalous life as she kept a series of correspondences with various women inside and outside the Duchy. In these letters she described, in some embarrassing detail, her sexual escapades.

She described acts with different partners, multiple partners at the same time, of multiple genders and races. She had gave detailed critiques of the different acts and sexual positions that could be performed as well as assessments of the various tools and harnesses that we had already found around the house. The people that she was talking to seemed to be well to do women and peers. The responses to Lady de Launfal's letters were generally encouraging in detail, prompting for all the salacious details, but I rather thought that I sensed an under-current of disdain and mocking humour beneath the encouragement.

There were also numerous letters from various men that were either pursuing Lady de Launfal, or had pursued her with some success. Whatever else might have been true about Lady de Launfal, it was clear that tracking down which Lover she had gone to see the previous night was exactly the cliche. You know the one, something about a needle in a haystack.

There is often a tendency to overegg that particular metaphor. A needle in a haystack's worth of haystacks is a prominent one. But I think the original serves it's purpose more than adequately.

In contrast, the diaries, although written in the same hand, portrayed a completely separate woman. It portrayed a woman of colossal bitterness and anger. She was hurt, in considerable pain and she was lashing out.

She was angry with Lord Palmerin for deserting her. Her diaries suggested that he had been the one that had sent her away. Refusing to acknowledge that she had been at fault in any way in their estrangement. She blamed him for the disaster at the Fish-market. She blamed him for falling for the charms of a Succubus…

As a note, this is one of those criticisms that I do not understand. I have been there and I can say with absolute certainty, that if a Succubus sets her sights on you, then the mark of your ability to resist is not measured in whether or not you can resist, but for how long. If a Succubus wants you, then there is little, if anything, you can do to try and stop yourself from going to her.

… and she blamed him for not finding a good and decent way to die after his disgrace. She raged at him over and over for not being the husband that she needed. Not being the husband that she wanted and not being the husband that she had been promised as a little girl. The Shining Knight of legend and stories.

Everything he had done to provide for her comfort had been deemed an insult to her. The house, the servants, the money that he set aside for her. In moaning about that, it was confirmed that she had no other source of income, something that I made a careful note of.

But most of all, the thing about him that infuriated her the most, was the point that he had found a new burst of life and honour in the face of his slow climb back to honour and glory. She had been angry before, but she truly hated him for that. I don't think this hatred was political. If she thought anything about the Knights of Saint Francesca at all, she did not mention it. You could see the turning point in her writing. If she had been able to stay by his side then that reflected Honour and Glory would have been passed on to her.

Remember that, from her point of view, her estrangement from her husband was entirely his fault.

She also hated her friends for not being properly supportive of her during this "difficult time." The most common repeated phrase through her extensive diaries was "They just don't understand." Over and over she would say that this was the case. Apparently, she had recently lost another friend who I eventually figured to be Lady Tonlaire, Sir Morgan's wife, who had berated Lady Josette for not seizing the moment and trying to reconnect with Lord Palmerin now that he was making more of a man of himself.

Lady de Launfal had not been pleased by this and had said so, driving the friend from the house.

She painted Sir Guillaume and his wife with the same brush that she painted Lord Palmerin with. From what I could tell, Sir Guillaume and his wife had been friendly with Lady Josette after the wedding but Guillaume had been his Uncle's since a young age and…

I might be being a little unfair here but I hope you'll forgive me.

… I think Lady Vivienne and she did not get along either. I think Lady Josette was not all that educated or intelligent and Lady Vivienne protects her learning and the services that she performs for the Duchess fiercely. I understood from the diaries that Lady Vivienne did not take kindly to the suggestion that she should have stayed at home and cared for Sir Guillaume's household and focused on having babies.

But one of the themes that seemed to be going through the diaries, was that she was disappointed. She was angry with her lovers. All of them. Every single one.

Why?

She found them all. "Lacking." And that was the direct quote.

So I was part of the way through reading through all of these papers while trying, rather hopelessly, to find whoever it was that might have been Lady Josette's lover of the previous evening. I rather fancied that it was an impossible search. I had found Lady Josette's calendar and appointment diary very early on. But like her diary the names of the people that she was talking about, when she didn't utterly hate the people in question, were in code.

Because of course they were. She was that kind of romantic. The kind of romantic that believes that people would try and read her diaries, which of course I was. But I kind of hoped that I would have been allowed. I was, after all, trying to solve her murder.

It was at this point that one of the servants walked in and passed me a note on a piece of card.

The servants were just getting the hang of me I think. They still flinched whenever I said something to them, or gestured or made any kind of extreme gestures. I felt as though I was trying to tame a wild animal when trying to deal with them. I certainly didn't help matters when the maid in question had chosen to deliver the news of Lord Palmerin's arrival using this method.

Dealing with servants is an artform and if you should ever find yourself in a situation where you are in charge of a household, no matter how large or small, you should spend some time on thinking about how you want to treat them and how they are supposed to treat you.

Father chose his servants for the quality of their honesty and skills. He encouraged his servants to tell him the truth, up to and including his valet, who helped him to dress in the morning, as to whether or not the chosen outfit looked particularly stupid.

Having a message delivered in this way is something that happens if the message is confidential or private. It's the kind of thing that is used when the Ambassador of a nation arrives with important news for a head of state. Or if someone is called out of an important meeting for an important reason that has nothing to do with the people in the room.

As an extreme example, A King is having a banquet with a neighbouring head of state, but someone has to tell him that his mistress has just given birth.

It's most commonly used by people of rank. In this instance, for this reason, it's use was frivolous. Which means that Lady Josette liked to feel important and impress visitors with her importance.

Another little insight into the woman. I was trying really hard to feel sorry for her but she was making that increasingly difficult.

I found Lord Palmerin in the entrance hall looking up at the picture of his estranged wife at the orgy. He was dressed simply, sword and dagger at his side, simple boots and jerkin with a heavy leather coat over the top that looked fur lined and warm although I suspected it could still withstand a slashing blow from most blades.

He turned and greeted me with the strangest expression. It was a cross between utter hilarity at the entire situation and abject, terrifying grief. He nodded and turned back towards the painting.

I stood next to him and looked up at the artwork with him.

"I don't know what to say." I said. "I suppose that I should say that I am so very sorry."

"Grateful to you Freddie." He said. "It's alright, I am struggling to know how to feel so I cannot blame you for not knowing what to say. I think that the truth of the matter is that I killed her shortly after the Fish-market. If not at the actual Fish Market itself."

I nodded before continuing carefully. It's always tricky to talk to people recently bereaved. Even if you know them well and here, although I knew Lord Palmerin fairly well, we were far from close. "You know that I must ask questions." I told him.

"Yes I know." He said quietly before he chuckled harshly. "Lots of questions I imagine. Starting with the fact that I spent last night at the Chapterhouse of the Knights of Saint Francesca. Some youngsters were talking about arming up and going out to chastise… someone. I couldn't really tell who and it is entirely possible that they were talking about multiple people. Jack, the various vigilance committees. The people that had insulted us. We spent the evening calming them down and putting them to bed. Sometimes even grown men need tucking in with a nice warming drink and a stuffed bear. That kept me going until Guillaume arrived with the news. I have not been out of the sight of anything less than four people since yesterday morning."

I let this go in silence before I realised a way to diffuse the tension.

"Complete with a stuffed bear?" I joked.

"You would be surprised." He commented. "Guillaume will never forgive me for saying this so if he finds out that you know, I swear I will deny everything."

"Understood."

"But when he was acting as my Squire during his training, he had a stuffed rabbit that he carried around in the bottom of his saddle-bags. He rarely had to sleep with it. But training is hard and after he had been beaten up one to many times with a practice weapon, when his muscles ached and his stomach was roiling, he could occasionally be seen going to his bags and taking his bunny out and holding it to his face for a moment, breathing deeply before putting it back and moving onto the next chore."

I shrugged. "I've heard worse. Some men turn to drink in order to get through the tough parts of the day."

"What do you do?"

"Did you not hear? I had nothing. I made myself ill with it. I am learning various things including trusting more in friends and loved ones. I also write. Since this all came to a head, I've written pages and pages of unprintable, self-indulgent drivel. Most of it goes on the fire if we're honest with each other."

He nodded, sinking into silence.

"Does Guillaume still have the rabbit?" I wondered.

"I don't know, you would have to ask him but I expect so. I also suspect that he now has something better than a stuffed animal now."

"A loving woman does help, I won't lie."

"Doesn't it though?" He smirked at me. "Especially one as understanding as yours is. But last I heard, he still had it. We joked about it during his stag Party and he admitted that he still has it. He doesn't need to use it as often but he admitted that he still finds it comforting to know that it's in the bottom of one of his bags. Even if he doesn't take it out and rub it in his face."

"You never teased him for it? When he was your Squire I mean."

"No. As you say, he could have been doing much worse things than taking deep lungfuls of childhood nostalgia through an old toy."

Silence fell for a while as we both looked up at the artistic rendition of his estranged wife's pleasure

"She really hated me didn't she." He said quietly. "You know, the artist of this piece actually sent me a message to check that I was ok with this painting being made?"

I decided that it was politic to say nothing.

"He couldn't believe that I was happy with it and was quite willing to pay him whatever fee he deemed appropriate. As complete works of fiction go, it's not bad all things considered."

"I should say…" I began. "I should say that people have sent messages to say that they want to buy it and your wife's other collections."

He smirked. "Yes I know. A messenger found me in the early hours of the morning. We spent the night out at the chapter house you see so I suspect that Raoul will be very disappointed that his message was not how I found out about Josette's death."

"What are you going to do?"

He actually laughed. "Honestly? I'm tempted to let him have it. I'm tempted to start some kind of bidding war. I'll hold an auction of some kind and work hard to make it as scandalous as possible. I'll get Lord Geralt and Lady Yennefer to host and see if they can talk Lord Pankratz down to be the auctioneer. I'll do it as a benefit to provide for some charity or another."

"We thought he would want to hold a ball and try to humiliate you with it all."

"I can believe that." He mused. "If he does, I will attend with Natanis, if she will go. I will grin openly as she explains the use of some of the items for sale with offers to demonstrate to some of the more prudish attendees. I shall walk around the exhibits proudly talking about how much money it made and how many things it bought for the orphanage, library or whatever we fund.

"Then, prominently before I go. I shall ask him why he was so interested in my wife's belongings and wonder if he planned to make use of that many of them. If he claims to not know what they are, I shall point out his stupidity for buying something with no value. If he claims he did it to memorialise my wife, I will point out all the times that he insulted and demeaned her. If he comments on the artistic method, I shall comment on his taste in artwork and wonder if he's struggling in the romantic arena."

"You sound like you have this all figured out."

"It's an old game Freddie. I was playing it before Raoul was born and, I suspect, I shall be playing after he's dead."

He looked up at the painting again.

"She never looked like that." He said finally. "She would never do that either, she was too afraid. She found the entire thing far too terrifying for that."

"Oh."

He looked at me sidelong for a long time. "Let's go somewhere and talk, shall we?"

We went to a parlour of some kind while one of the servants brought us tea and some form of cake that was far too sweet and cloying on the tongue. When the refreshments were delivered, Palmerin sent for the Butler who told Palmerin the same story that he had told me. For a while there I thought I was going to see Palmerin get angry, his face reddened, his eyes boggled and his nostrils flared. But then, he seemed to sigh.

"Let me stop you there." He said. "I want you to know that I apologise."

The butler's mouth hung open.

"I should have checked on your working conditions and when it became clear that my wife was misusing the privileges that she had been granted, I should have stepped in."

The Butler had not moved. Frozen in some kind of primal servant version of whatever Fight or Flight is.

"Please pass it to the others." Palmerin said, "That if you wish to, you may stay in my service. You will be tasked with rendering all aid to the guard and the Knights Francesca with anything that they desire while you prepare this house to be sold. After that sale is complete, you will be moved to either my estate in the country where you will see to my needs and the needs of Lady Natanis should she require it. Or you will serve me at the Kalayse Vineyard where we work for the Knights Francesca. If you choose not to continue, then I will consider that you have given me notice. You will be given a months pay as well as a glowing recommendation, signed and sealed by my hand, for whichever career you choose to advance yourselves in."

The Butler still didn't move.

"Either way," Palmerin shrugged. "I rather think that life will be very different from now on. You all have a week with which to make your decision, but during that week, you are still employed by me and I shall utilise you as such. Am I understood?"

The Butler nodded.

Palmerin sighed again. "I require verbal acknowledgement please."

"I understand."

Palmerin's eyes narrowed before, again, he sighed sadly. "Repeat my message to the other servants please."

Fortunately for everyone, the Butler repeated the message within tolerable margin for error.

Palmerin nodded his satisfaction and the poor Butler fled the anticipated wrath.

My friend snorted at himself. "And there's another source of regret that my wife has caused me. I have allowed cruelty against servants that I have paid for."

"No you didn't." I told him. "There was no way you could have known. She would have hated you more, she would have lied to you, there would have been any number of ways that she could have kept all of that from you."

"I suppose… but..."

"And I love you for saying it, but the way these servants have been treated wouldn't even be noted in comparison to some of the servants that I have come across in my time. There is unpleasantness, yes. There will be trauma as well that will need recovering from. But I have seen worse."

"That is not a good thing to say Lord Frederick." He told me, a severe expression on his face. "What is it that Lord Geralt says? Evil is Evil. Greater, lesser or middling. Well in this case, Cruelty is cruelty. I was paying them, I should have checked up on them and I should have seen this coming. And I should have done something about it."

I decided that discretion was the better part of valour in this case and let him have the point, after all, he wasn't wrong. But better to change the subject.

"Where's Guillaume?"

"I sent him to get some rest. He's had a big day as well."

"I didn't get the impression that he and his aunt were that close."

"They weren't. Especially when, in Josette's words, "He didn't take that Blonde Witch in hand properly." I mean he and his wife did their best but I don't think that Guillaume was too upset when she finally told them to never darken her door again." He took a drink and a bite from the sandwich that had been left for him. "I have just told him that I intend to name him my heir. My solicitor is going to be very busy over the next week or so. She will be delighted. That is… unless you are going to arrest me for the murder of my wife."

"I would imagine that were I to do so, your solicitor would be even more busy."

"And happy." He shook his head. "I didn't do it. I'm confident that I would only be incarcerated for as long as it would take you to check my alibi."

"Fair enough." I grinned at him. "But why Guillaume. Surely you could remarry and sire other children. You are not so old yet."

"I might not be that old Freddie, but I am old. Who is going to want to marry a drying up old man. Even if I have, mostly, washed the stink of cowardice from myself. Any woman that I would court would be certain, absolutely certain that they would be sharing me with a certain Succubus whenever Natanis came to town and so who could I ask to shoulder that burden? Also, who would I be able to see that I wouldn't be comparing to a Succubus. That would be cruel, to any woman."

He shook his head. "You are kind Lord Frederick, but I think that that part of my life is over. I shall still serve for many years yet. The Knights Francesca need an old hand to keep them on the right path aside from Syanna's idealism."

"Does she know that you think of her as an idealist?"

"She does. She finds it as funny as you do. But she is one nonetheless."

He drank the rest of his tea and shook his head yet again.

"You are a good man Lord Frederick." he said a little more formally. "But I am Knight Errant enough to know that you are distracting me with small talk in order to work up to the big questions that you really want to ask. Questions that you are not looking forward to asking. As you can see, I have much to do so I would beg that you speak, and ask, plainly without cause for worry." The words had a formal cadence to them, as though they had been said many times by many different people. "I am your humble servant sir." He finished.

I sighed. "Trapped." I told him, mirroring his pattern of speech. "But I would also say that my style is less formal than that. Please call me Freddie, and you are right. At the moment, you are not a suspect. These questions are rote and you probably already know most of the questions that I am going to ask you."

"I do." He smiled sadly. "My wife had very few enemies that I know of and what enemies that she did have were women and unlikely to rise to this sort of level. They were petty feuds that exist between people that meet every few weeks for tea and cake, smile sweetly and then kill each other with sharp jokes and pointed witticisms. There were plenty of people that she had pissed off but I rather think that this is not what you want to know about it."

"I do confess that it is not."

"She had no real enemies that would wish her dead. When her funeral rites are committed, those same enemies that we were talking about will be there, wringing their hands and sobbing into handkerchiefs. There will be wailing and sobbing and gnashing of teeth as they do their best to outdo each other with competitions as to who can be the most theatrical with demonstrations of grief."

I remembered the circles that my mother would occasionally move in and said nothing.

"So what else would I ask if our positions were reversed? She had no debts to speak of , we were all caught up with the various finance situations. She had had no fights with anyone in particular recently. She was not in the habit of spurning the offers of romantic assignations so there won't be a spurned lover or anything. I truly cannot think about who might have a grudge against my wife."

"Except." I prompted.

"Except through her marriage, and estrangement from me. But why would Jack, or whoever is masquerading as Jack, care about that. If it is a pretense and this is a strike against me then why wait until now? Why link them in with all of these other murders of those other poor women."

"That is, in all honesty, exactly the question that I am trying to answer Palmerin." I told him. "Let me speak plainly, your wife breaks the pattern. Previous to her, the dead women that were assigned to the most recent Jack killings were known for their, for want of a better term, choosiness when it came to romance. They were either outright dismissive of romantic assignations, or they chose carefully. This suggests two possibilities. The first is that the person that killed your wife is some kind of copycat that is taking advantage of the situation."

Palmerin was shaking his head as I spoke.

"And I agree that that is unlikely." I said. "Your wife had no enemies that we could find that would hate her enough to take advantage of this situation. So we have to work on the assumption that this is the same killer that has targeted your wife."

"Why?" Palmerin wondered. It was a rhetorical question and we both knew it.

"Off the top of my head," I began, "I can think of numerous possibilities. The first is that she knew something and is being silenced."

Palmerin shook his head. "She was not the sort of person that would accept those kinds of confidences. Say what you like about my wife, and believe me that I can say plenty, she would have been outraged at these deaths. and if she had known about them then she would have done something in advance."

I nodded, that would have been a remote possibility.

"It is also a possibility that she saw something and was used as a distraction."

"You don't believe that at all."

"You're right I don't. I think she was intended. I think she was watched and I think she was taken deliberately. I just don't know why. Her death breaks the pattern and there are several worrying possibilities for that."

"Now they have entered their real game. They were working up to something before this."

"That is just one of the possibilities that I don't like." I said. "But it is, by far, the most plausible."

Palmerin smirked again and gave me a level stare. "You have explained yourself most adequately Freddie. What do you need from me?

I sighed. He was not going to let me do this the easy way. "We need to know who your wife was with last night." I said. "We already have her appt diary but she wrote that, and her reminiscences in code."

"Of course she did." Palemerin smirked, a little melancholy.

"Other than you," I went on. "I have only been able to identify Sir Guillaume and Natanis in her writings."

"What did she call them?"

I smiled. "That idiot nephew and the Whore-bitch."

"Pretty safe assumptions." He commented. "I am not sure that I can help you however. My wife is tricky in that regard. On the one hand, I have no doubt that she, and I for that matter, have had more sex since she left me and came to the city than we ever had during our marriage. Having said that, I cannot bring myself to believe that she had really slept with quite as many people as she, or others, have claimed. That painting is an utter fabrication, for example."

'Why do you say this?"

"She was a prude." Palmerin replied.

I must have blinked at him in disbelief or something because he smirked at my expression. "It's true." She said before his eyes went vacant as he looked at the mists of memory.

"I can't speak for her obviously, but I loved her. I really did. I had my choice of potential brides as I was not poor and had a considerable estate. I was already doing well at the Joust. We were young of course."

"Oh of course." I agreed, possibly a little too much of a mocking tone than I should have used as he looked at me sharply.

"I constantly forget that you are not of Toussaint Lord Frederick."

"I apologise."

"No, it's not that. It's more that… We were really young when we got married. Young, even for nobles. I used to joke that we were barely even born yet when we got married. She was so beautiful too. It must have been an awkward and embarrassing sight. Two teenagers trying to be mature and getting married."

He sighed unhappily. "My master of Knighthood. The man that I served as squire, paid for me to go to the Belles so that I could gain enough of an education so as not to hurt her on our wedding night, even if we couldn't manage to give each other pleasure. Consummation on the night was rather more important then, than it is now.

"We were married, but where I was excited to get to my wedding chamber and loving this amazing girl that I had been besotted with for ages she was…" He stopped as he looked for the words.

"Frightened by it?" I suggested when it was clear that he might need prompting.

He shook his head though. "Disgusted. She found the entire thing repulsive. She had resolved to go through with the act, literally gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes shut. All of her body tensing up until she was almost rigid to the point that, no matter how beautiful I found her. No matter how much wine we had both drunk to relax us, no matter my learned skills. I could not get her to relax or open up for me. Literally and figuratively."

"But even if you discount some of the rumours." I began, "She is still far from abstinent now."

He smiled sadly.

"She was in love with the idea of romance and sex. She liked beautiful people and being around beautiful people. But the act itself…

"We managed some times. When she was forcing herself to try and produce an heir early on she was still so tense. She marched to our bed chamber in the same way that you or I would march to a duel with someone who we know is better than we are. But the deed itself felt a little too close to rape for my tastes and I would often be unable to function. I had already realised that I preferred my women a bit more willing and enthusiastic. Unlike some knights that I could mention."

"Who are you talking about there?"

"Gregoire for one."

I was rather cowardly and kept my recent intelligence from Anne to myself.

"But, we found that if I woke up early and started my… ministrations when she was just waking up and could focus on the sensation rather than her brain getting in the way. We were able to manage a few times. Not enough for my taste and far too often for hers. More and more often I would be informed that I would not be welcome in her bed chamber and that I would find the door locked.

"I refused to force the issue, but it damaged us. Damaged our marriage. She made me feel as though I was… well…. A rapist, whereas I have no doubt that she was being truthful when she told me that I made her feel like a whore."

He sighed

"I have relived those early years of our marriage over and over again in my mind. I loved her, I know that. When I joined her in her bed, I would always ask her consent and I always made my intentions plain. If she ever wanted me to stop, then I did. Instantly and with all my apologies. We both wanted an heir and neither of us could come up with another way to do it. I don't think we could have done other than what we did. I don't think I could have acted any other way than how I did.

"And before she left me after the fish market, she called me a rapist."

A shadow passed over his eyes before, by effort of will, he pushed it away.

"I was in the depths of my self-loathing at the time and that injured my soul. Natanis reputed her rather forcefully."

"I can imagine," I said carefully.

"Do not get me wrong, I was far from a perfect husband. I didn't take a mistress until Natanis came much later in life. I pretended that we were both happy, even though we were not. We worked on the estates together, we went to balls and I like to think that I was always attendant to her needs. But I will freely admit that I resented her lack of physical interest in me. There she would be, dressed in the latest fashionable cut of a ball-gown. Stunningly beautiful to my eyes. Something which I freely told her, but when we got back home, she would become cold and depart for her chambers. Or on those rare occasions where she was open to the idea. When the clothing came off, a look of disappointment would come into her gaze and I would flee to my own rooms.

"Looking back, I wonder if I… if we just thought that this was what marriage was like. Friends from both our circles used to comment about how perfect a wife she was and how wonderful a husband I was. Her friends used to tell her that she was lucky to have a man like me and she used to agree with them."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his voice had become ragged towards the end there before his eyes opened and he gazed at me.

"But," Palmerin went on. "Just because she didn't enjoy it, didn't mean that she wasn't fascinated by sex.

"Ok," I said after a moment, "I'm going to need you to explain that one."

"She used to collect artwork." He said, "Small portraits, sketches and the like. You might know the kind of thing that it was. The same kind of thing that young, trainee Knights keep in their cots to keep them warm at night. I certainly did as I got a bit older and could see the way that all of the, particularly beautiful women of Toussaint were looking at my master as he rode by.

"Artwork of impossibly beautiful men and women coming together in unlikely configurations that would require more athletic ability as well as physical prowess than I ever had, even in my prime. Illustrations of pleasure that looked carefully choreographed to look as impressive as possible while both participants look clean and smooth."

He was right. I could imagine that sort of artwork he was talking about.

"It's ridiculous of course. My wife was far from ugly, certainly in my eyes and, it would seem, in the eyes of others as well. And I was also, so I'm told, a handsome young man, but holding us both up to the impossible physical standards of those pictures and pieces of artwork. I think she resented me for not being the lithe, thin, smooth and flexible men that she saw in that artwork and she hated herself for not being, smooth equally tall, slight, fuller breasted, equally flexible women with long hair that flowed in order to flick backwards when she tilted her head back in paroxysms of pleasure so that it ran down her back like a waterfall.

"Which was just as ridiculous. I have never known a woman, even Natanis, that has not wanted, or needed, to brush her hair after the act, and often take a bath. In my experience, sex at it's best is messy, sweaty, sometimes gooey, sometimes awkward, often funny and pleasure is far from artistic."

"I don't know." I commented. "I can think of some exceptions to that last."

"I am sure that you can. But the difference there is that you are thinking from within the act. When a woman is enjoying the pleasure that you have given her, I would tend to agree. But from the outside? All that grunting and groaning of real lovers is almost primal. Animalistic even and I cannot see art in that."

I decided that I needed him to keep talking, which meant that he needed prompting. Not to be disagreed with.

"Fair enough." I said.

"So she would wander round our house and the nearby fields. Trying to sneak up on clandestine lovers. Listening in, watching where she could. She read books on the subject, read papers and things. But try as she might, she just couldn't find the same pleasure in the act that she had seen and had read about."

"So what do you think happened to change her mind?" I asked carefully.

He shrugged. "I wish I knew. I can't say that it would have saved our marriage if all of this is true and she had changed her mind about sex a bit earlier. Looking back I have, indeed, wondered if she ever loved me, or if she just loved the idea of someone like me. I suppose that I will never know now."

For a moment, he looked sad enough that I thought tears might begin to fall. But then he shook himself.

"I don't know what changed." He admitted. "I took her purchasing of all the toys as being an extension of her interest in the subject. I took the rumours about her promiscuity as extreme fabrications. I still believe that part of it, if not all, was about her efforts to get back at me. "See," she seemed to say. "It was you. You were the one that I despised above all others. It was not me that couldn't find pleasure, it was you.","

He sighed. "Maybe she was right."

"I can't answer for that." I told him. "To an outsider, I can say that it looks as though you were just, not really made for each other."

"And you are right." He admitted. "We rushed into marriage with unreasonable speed without properly thinking about what it would mean for any of us. But why did she hate me so much? She hurled the scandals that she caused into my teeth with an anger and an aggression that was… almost overwhelming. I had people coming to me and telling me to cast her out"

"Why didn't you."

"Because she was right." I saw a tear fall, "She did deserve better than I. Maybe I could have helped her better. Maybe I could have been more compassionate with her when it came to matters of the bedchamber. Maybe I could have helped her or found some way to help her."

"Maybe." I agreed. "But Maybes don't cut it. If it were me, I would wonder how she came to have these unrealistic expectations about sex. I would wonder why she was pushed into marriage when she was… forgive me, so clearly not ready for it."

"When is anyone ready for it?" He asked bitterly.

"I am." I told him. "I am, right fucking now." I laughed, the tone of the conversation had changed now. I was no longer interviewing a widower of a dead man. I was consoling a friend. "I was terrified of it, putting it off and putting it off. But now? I can't wait. I can't wait until I can go to sleep in Ariadne's arms and to hold her while she pretends to sleep."

"Vampires don't sleep?"

"Not as much as we do apparently. She has warned me that sleep happens but they often only need two or three hours of sleep a night."

"My marriage was hardly perfect but that doesn't really sound like an ideal arrangement for a marriage."

"We have discussed it." I said. "We are going to go to bed together and then she can leave after I am asleep to continue whatever project she's working on at the time, before arranging matters so that she's there when I wake up."

"Could be tricky."

"It might be. But I'm looking forward to figuring it all out."

He looked as though a torch had been lit in his brain.

"That's it," He breathed in astonishment, "That's what the problem was with us. We weren't interested in the challenge."

He tilted his head onto one side as he considered this new insight.

"Huh," he said. "We never did that. Every time we came across a difficulty in our marriage, whether it was the sex or anything else, we just gave up. We didn't talk about it. We didn't discuss it or try to overcome it. We just gave up and argued with each other. That's an interesting lesson to learn from a man less than half my own age."

"So she's trying new things." I prompted.

"Yes, that might be it. Trying to find her way into a happiness that I could never quite provide her. Or that we could never quite provide each other. I have no doubt that she knows how to use all of these interesting implements that she has bought. But I maintain that she would balk at the idea of actually using them, either on herself or on other people.

"I think… I think she was looking for something. Or someone. I think it's more than likely."

He sighed and looked at me sternly. "Please understand that this is a guess." He told me. "I think she was throwing mud at the wall. I think she was unhappy with life and angry at me. One of the things that she decided that she was angry about was the sex thing so I think she decided that she was going to find someone who would make her feel the way I could never help her achieve."

I considered that for a while.

"That would track." I said. "Having read her diaries, or rather some of them."

"Snooping, Lord Frederick?" He smirked at me. Again with the slight edge of sadness.

"Investigating Lord Palmerin." I retorted, a little more strongly than I had intended.

He held his hands up in surrender.

"From what she wrote," I began again, "She was getting angrier, not less. She was getting more and more resentful. Not less."

Palmerin nodded.

"I have been betrayed, you know, in the past." I said. "Not to the extent that you have been or that she has been."

Palmerin looked uncomfortable.

"Don't get me wrong my friend." I continued. "As you once told me, Injury is in the eye of the beholder. What happened to me would be nonsense to you and vice versa. I have found, especially recently, that I can either hold a grudge for extended periods of time. Or I can choose to move past it."

I considered this.

"Or I could get definitive vengeance I suppose." I finished.

"You seem a little young for that kind of grudge."

"What kind of grudge?

"The Kind of grudge that needs definitive vengeance."

"I actually found it rather hollow." I said, "And more than a little terrifying. I wanted to kill the fucker with my bare hands but in the end, another man killed one while the rest were killed by supernatural horror."

I shuddered at the memory. "There were some people in that force that did not deserve that." Another thought occurred.

"Oh, and there was Dorme the Goatfucker of Angral. My vengeance there was preempted by Kerrass, but I got the love of a beautiful woman out of it so I rather think we're even."

Palmerin laughed, which was part of the point.

"Your wife was hurt. Her revenge was to find something that she never found with you. Now, she can't find it. Even now, young and pretty minstrels and Knights are just not scratching that itch, whatever that itch is."

"Very probable." He said, his face folding a little.

"Unfortunately, that does not help us find her lover of last night." I commented wryly.

"Hunt for the renowned lovers." He suggested. "The travelling troubadours and Knights."

"That might be a lot of people," I commented. "This is Toussaint after all."

A servant came in and handed me a piece of paper which I read. A momentary flash of annoyance swept through me at the servant's presumption but upon reading the note I sighed.

"Oh for crying out loud." I grumbled.

"What is it?"

"A waste of time." I said. "I am summoned to the palace to make an account of myself and the investigation before the court. Like I don't have anything better to do."

Palmerin winced in sympathy. "It was always going to kick off." He said. "Someone is bound to be looking for an excuse to discredit you and the Knights at the same time. There has been a desire to return to the Status Quo of what existed before Geralt arrived since the Night of the Long Fangs, let alone the Massacre of the fish market. Now that Nilfgaard isn't involved in the defence of the realm, that faction will come out and target Syanna. She's doing well despite the, not entirely unjustified hate levelled against her. But even then, the fact that what she did, she did out of love for Toussaint does her at least some credit."

I grunted, climbing to my feet, I hadn't crouched over a desk and diaries for too long, my body was out of practice.

"So, the new powers must be discredited" Palmerin went on, oblivious, "The power couples of the future in Toussaint are Guillaume and Vivienne. And…"

"Syanna and Damien?" I finished, staring at him. I had seen something suddenly. Or heard something and my mind was just clicking into place. I couldn't see it yet but it was there, just out of reach. I love that feeling. That moment of looking at a question on an exam, knowing that you know the answer and just waiting for it to come out of your quill.

The moment where the solution becomes imminent.

"Mmm." Palmerin grunted in agreement. "The exile and the Hedge Knight? Straight out of the storybooks, but that's what people fear. A new way out of new ideas and if the pair of them can formalise their alliance then they will be devastating together. Syanna has made no secret of her intentions all while Damien protests so people haven't been too overt yet, in their efforts to destroy them.

"But there is an argument in some circles that if the Duchess doesn't marry and have a child soon, she won't be able to and will be forced to name Vivienne her heir as the distant cousins that they are."

My mind was working furiously. "Is that true?" I wondered.

"Oh yes. It's not as strange as you might think. All of the big nobles are intermarried at some level. That's why the Duchess and the Empress are cousins despite all evidence to the contrary. But Syanna and Damien and the Knights that they represent…"

He tutted. "For all the good that we are doing, and have already done with the third regiment's help. They are not popular in those circles. The better ones can see that there have been problems and agree that they need fixing. But what Syanna and Damien are doing is insulting to their history and to their very way of life. All they need is an excuse."

And there it was.

"Say that again." I said, because nothing becomes a cliche without a reason.

"What? For all the…"

"No no the last bit.

He shrugged. "All they need is an excuse. The Knights will be discredited before we get a chance to prove ourselves. And that will set back Toussaint years before we have the courage to start again."

"And all they need is an excuse." I said.

(AAN:Edited and formatted with a new puppy in the house and on new word Processor, so apologies for mistakes. He's adorable, but focusing on things like flow are not easy when trying to keep him from eating the carpet.

Stay safe out there folks.)