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

133. Chapter 133

(A/N: Please join me at the end of the chapter for a discussion on some of Freddie's actions in this chapter. He does something in this chapter which I STRONGLY disagree with. But this happens because I know more than he does. As I say, I will discuss at the end of the chapter. CW: Mental health discussions.)

I strode to the palace, stomping on the cobblestones as though they had done something to offend me, while my mind was working furiously.

I could have ridden up to the palace. I probably should have ridden up to the palace. It would have been quicker and safer. But I wanted to walk. I wanted to work the problem and I have always found that the best way to do that is to move. To keep the blood and the adrenaline flowing through your system.

It always happens the same way. After an insight comes, but before the entire puzzle has been worked out. There is a need in me to move around, turning the new insight over and over in my head. Looking at it from different angles and trying it out in different ways.

It was like… It was like when you are trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle. But the puzzle doesn't work. It doesn't make sense and then, for some reason, you look at it from a different angle and you realise that the puzzle is actually a three dimensional puzzle with multiple layers, which allows you to see the patterns which will allow you to fit it all together.

I wasn't there yet. I hadn't fit all the pieces together yet. But what I had done was figure out how to put them together. I knew how to fit the pieces together, or rather, how I was going to fit the pieces together, and it felt so good.

But I needed to walk. I needed to stomp my way up to the palace and turn this new information around in my head. Turning it over and over and over again.

I knew what was happening now. I knew it. I couldn't prove it, I didn't know who the killer or killers were. But I knew what was going on. I knew the context of the entire thing and sometimes that was the whole battle.

And that's how you solve mysteries. That's how you do it. Kerrass had shown me that time after time on the path. Some of those examples are in these writings. Work the problem, step by step and piece by piece and sooner or later something will happen that will put you on the right path.

I had a pool of suspects now. But before I could act on that, I had to "make an account of myself and the investigation."

Someone was delaying me. I know a political ploy when I see one. It did play into my theory to be fair. Someone powerful was making my life difficult when I could, when I should, be talking to people and telling them the things that I had figured out. Instead, I was on my way to the palace to stand up in front of the court and argue with courtiers. The other thing that I knew from past experiences was that such matters are never over and done quickly.

An enemy was striking at me. I was being steered. We were being steered and I didn't like it, I felt like I was being led into a trap and I didn't like that either. I kept thinking of Northern Redania and the hooded misshapen men of the cult of the First-Born, steering us where they wanted to go. I also remembered Sir Rickard's tactics of refusing to be steered, even though it cost us dearly it had meant that some of us could survive.

This was the political equivalent of that event. We were being steered and delayed so I needed to refuse to play their game.

As a result, I had taken steps. One of the Guardsmen that were waiting outside Lady Josette's house had taken a hastily scrawled message up to the palace to Syanna to tell her that I knew what was going on and to not say, or do anything until I got there. I told her to include Kerrass, Damien and anyone else involved in the investigation in that instruction.

I had also harnessed everything that I had at my disposal. I had contacted Ariadne and asked her to go to the palace, carrying the same message. She had left immediately.

But I needed to think. So I walked up to the palace. It was a physical need, almost a biological imperative. It was not the same thing as when you get the answer while you sleep. There was no thought of waiting for things to happen and then getting back to it later. I had to think about this. I could have done nothing else.

Kerrass enjoys it when I do this, when I get lost in a problem and pace, or sit, and stare into space as my mind works over the problem. He tends to laugh, occasionally wave a sandwich or something to eat under my nose, before wandering off and leaving me to it.

It was very similar to how I had felt turning over the problem of Francesca's disappearance in my head. The same way that I had turned that problem over and over and over again in my head. To the point that it eventually became uncomfortable and unhealthy.

This felt different though. For the Francesca problem, there was an edge that was missing here. It was an edge of my own desperation. Of sadness, hopelessness and despair. The secret feeling that the issue with figuring out the Francesca problem was not that I could not find the answer. But because I had missed something important. That I was being kept from something, deliberately.

But here… I felt a surging confidence that had been missing previously. This was something that I could figure out. These were enemies that I could defeat, confound and punish. Here, I was going to win. All I had to do was to look at the puzzle from a slightly different angle, fit in a few more of the pieces in different places and directions and then I would have the greater shape of the matter.

I was frustrated, angry, tired, insulted and if I was being honest with myself, I felt better than I had in ages. Probably, better than I had felt since we had lost Francesca.

Yes there had been great joy in Skellige, but there, the puzzle was solved almost immediately, it was just a case of finding the right piece of the puzzle. In Redania, it was the same.

But here, there was a mystery and I worried at it like one of my father's hounds would worry at the neck of the hare.

And to be able to think, or rather, to be able to think in this particular mode. I needed to move. In a study, or a camp-site, I would pace. But here, I could stomp.

I really gave those poor cobble-stones what for as well. Lord Palmerin had come with me because he felt it necessary to come and support the Knights. I had told him that he had other things to do but he didn't see that.

"You have been summoned before the court in order for people to call you names and insult you. Damned if I'm staying away from that kind of thing. You will have my sword if you need it."

"Grateful to you Palmerin. Just remember that your temper is not what it should be."

He glared at me and I apologised for being quite so condescending.

But he would later tell me that the way I walked, it was as though the road had insulted my family in some way. As though, with each step I was stamping on the throat of a man that had "wronged a lady" and twisted my foot in order to cause them as much pain as possible.

Later, that image was funny. But for the right there and the right then?

I stalked over the bridge that separates the palace proper from the city itself and stormed past the guards and the palace.

One of the Knights of Saint Francesca was waiting for me. He saluted me and just for a moment, that gesture broke through my thought processes and a moment of hilarity bubbled at the back of my throat.

Here I was, in my old, battered but comfortable boots, torn and patched trousers, grubby leather coat with plain shirt and jerkin over me. I had my spear in my pouch slung easily over my shoulder and my fighting knife across my belly.

Opposite me was a young man that could fold me into one of those plaited loaves of bread. Towering several inches over me, half as wide as me again with arms that were thicker than my thighs. Resplendent in the armour of the Knights of Saint Francesca, plain and serviceable but polished and shiny so that they didn't look out of place in the royal palace. Spear, shield and sword held, not in ceremonial positions, but rather held in a way that they could be used without thought, faster than it would take that same young man to take a breath.

And he saluted me?

The places that we find ourselves and the things that we find ourselves doing never cease to amuse and entertain me.

"Lord Coulthard?" He greeted me. Technically incorrect as Mark is the Lord Coulthard but now was not the time to be bringing up such matters.

I nodded to confirm my identity.

"If you will come with me My Lord, the Knight Commander requests your presence."

"Yes, I said. I had a feeling she might."

I fell in behind the poor man who did his best to increase my pace. "What's going on?" I asked him quietly.

"It sounds like a lot." The young man answered. "All I know is that a lot of people turned up to the palace this morning and demanded to speak with the Duchess. After that, the Knight Commander was summoned and now court is in full session. Matters are being delayed until everyone gets here."

"Who else is here?"

"Master Witcher Kerrass arrived a little before you did. The Lady Ariadne arrived a little time ago by magical means. Captain De La Tour rode in some minutes ago."

I nodded, but I had missed someone and the Knight immediately disabused me of my false security.

"We haven't found Sir Guillaume though. It is known that he spent some time resting in his wife's rooms this morning but he is not there now and we haven't found him yet."

"Ok." I took a breath as that added a new dimension to my thinking. If anyone could take care of themselves then it was Sir Guillaume so I wasn't worried about that. But he knew that we didn't think that this was going to be the entity Jack and that information getting out, to anyone, could be disastrous. As Damien admitted earlier, we knew that we had a leaky ship.

"How long have we been looking?" I asked.

"Not long." The Knight responded. "Not long enough to be worried."

But long enough for me to worry.

We got towards the central courtroom. Syanna saw me almost instantly and beckoned me over.

The room itself was not quite as busy as it had been for the Empress' coronation. But it was not far off. There were riotous colours everywhere and there was a buzz of expectant and, if I was any judge, slightly frustrated conversational noise in the air.

The Duchess wasn't here yet. Possibly, hopefully even, kept out of the room by Syanna until we knew the play. I looked around as I approached the Knight Commander. Kerrass was there at Syanna's elbow, both swords jutting out over his shoulder, glowering at everyone and everything that went near him while he was reading from a piece of paper that he stared at with some concentration. I felt instantly reassured as I always did in Kerrass' presence.

Ariadne was also there. Standing next to Lady Vigo who was looking on with interest. I saw Damien arguing with a few nobles. I didn't get long to assess but I rather thought that those men were trying to brow beat the Guard Captain into submission.

My family wasn't there. I was both relieved, and concerned about that. Relieved that I didn't have to deal with that again just yet, but also concerned as to wherever they were. I had a strange desire to keep an eye on them.

That thought needed to be taken out and examined later. Was I concerned for them? Or was I concerned about whatever it was that they might be up to. Was this a symptom of the damaged trust between us?

I made a mental note to think about that in a moment of better calm. Maybe talk to Anne about it.

That was it for my side, what about enemies? There were a lot of the prominent Vineyard owners present as well as those warriors and Knights that remained of the former Knights Errant.

I saw Sir Raoul standing off to one side of the court-room watching everything with a glitter of amusement in his eyes. Sir Alain de Moineau was standing talking with some other nobles that I knew that I had been introduced to, but was not entirely convinced that I could name.

Sir Gregoire was also talking angrily with someone. From the body language, it looked like a group of people were accusing him of things and he was doing his best to defend himself. He didn't have the red face and vein protruding body language of a man with a temper. But more a hooded gaze, a clenched jaw and flared nostrils of a man that

was holding himself in check with a great deal of care.

I set aside the mystery of Sir Gregoire for another time.

Velles the Merchant was also visibly networking as well. He was not alone in being here under his auspices of a man out to make money. The thing about chaos is that there is always someone who can, and will, profit from it.

I could also see Colonel and Lady Duberton standing to one side of the court. There were a few other officers from the Nilfgaardian regiment that were still here, looking around with an amused detachment that always comes from being military men among courtiers. The detachment of men that are amused by what they see but know not to get involved.

Sir Morgan the Blackhand was in the middle of things with his wife. Both of them talking with considerable animation to whoever would sit stand still and listen to them for long enough.

I picked him out as the man that had organised this. There was no way that a court, this size, could be gathered this quickly off the cuff. If it was a regular gathering of court then that would be different, but I knew for a fact that the court of Toussaint was dismissed due to the winter break, as most courts are.

Just quickly. By "Court" I mean that period of time where the Duchess gathers people in order to discuss matters that are affecting the people and place of Toussaint at the moment. Rulers or nobles tend to hold to specific times in order to organise things. The Duchess likes things formal and had dismissed her court, just as formally, for the duration of the winter festivities planned around the inauguration of the Knights of Francesca as well as all the parties and things that commonly accompany Yule. Also because so few people wanted to travel from the more remote areas of Toussaint to come and attend the court.

And although I couldn't speak for the Duchess, it might also be true that she just couldn't be bothered over the Winter.

Court also tends to be dismissed during the height of summer. The time where all those people in their full courtly outfits, forced together in a small room, can cause a smell that can turn a sensitive stomach to vomiting.

Spring and Autumn tend to be the firmest times for court. Breaks for summer and winter. There are exceptions to this. Queen Meve is known to travel in Spring and Autumn because she likes Winter in one of the two Kingdoms and Summer in the other although I can never remember which way round it goes. So her court is actively dismissed during her times of travelling.

But this court. This gathering of nobles had been pulled together quickly and their mood had been tailored by someone. It had been shaped and organised.

Watching Sir Morgan work the crowd, he was my first suspect for all the planning. But that didn't necessarily mean that he was behind the killings. He could have been an instrument, an accomplice or a dupe. But even so, I needed to keep an eye on him.

But I had run out of time and had reached Syanna. Damien was approaching too.

"What have you got for me Freddie?" Syanna asked me carefully.

I took a breath. "I think I know what's going on." I told her as quietly as I could manage.

"Well don't keep me in suspense."

"Not here. The killer is almost certainly in this room right now. People are listening and as Damien and I discussed earlier…" The man himself had arrived and joined our little group. "Our ship is not very water-tight."

Syanna grimaced but I could see her acknowledge that truth.

"Speaking of which." I said, "Where's Guillaume. He doesn't know what's been decided about Jack being a copycat, being kept quiet.

Syanna's eyes widened. "We haven't seen him. We know that there are messages flying around and…"

"I will look." Kerrass said, folding the piece of paper and carefully tucking it inside his tunic. "Come on Damien."

"Freddie." Syanna muttered fiercely to me. "Give me something to work with here. My sister is coming and I want something more than "Enquiries are being pursued"."

"I know what's happening, or at least I think so. I have a theory that explains…"

"Guillaume's just come in." Damien told us.

"Fuck," I muttered.

There he was, looking resplendent in his armour that had been polished to an eye-hurting intensity. He looked tired, drawn and much older than his years.

And Sir Alain had seen him before we did. Sir Morgan was not far behind.

"Fucking Fuck." I said again.

"You go." Syanna told me. "I am too watched and have to…"

I was already moving.

The conversation that I was heading to had already started. Alain was talking to Sir Guillaume, the body language was that he was concerned, there was no confrontation there, yet. In some ways that was worse.

"Lord Frederick, A moment of your time." Someone called, I don't know who but I wondered if it might have been Velles. Intercepting me? Or did he have a genuine reason to try and talk to me? It didn't matter now, what was happening over there was far more important. Velles could wait and I pretended not to hear him.

I dimly felt the presence of Kerrass over my shoulder. Good. If things got intimidating, I would need that support.

Sir Morgan had joined Alain and Guillaume now. The two Knights were speaking quickly. Guillaume looked tired, weary, a little frustrated maybe but that could mean anything.

I pushed my way past a trio of other men that all wore dress swords and were talking in low voices. A chorus of offence and indignation followed me and I ignored that as well.

Guillaume was frowning.

I could finally hear Sir Alain. "... and I have had to all but incarcerate my wife back at my estate for safe-keeping. You have no idea how much that is aggravating her and that that, in turn, is aggravating me."

"Which is precisely the point." Sir Morgan challenged Guillaume.

An audience of people had gathered now. This had become the central part of the court and I was finding it difficult to get through.

"You and the Knights Francesca are supposed to be the protections that we all depend on Sir Guillaume." Sir Morgan insisted. "Lady Marie Tratamara, dead, killed horribly and now Lady de Launfal as well. How long is this going to go on for?"

"I notice that you don't mention the other women that have died." Sir Guillaume tried to come across as being angry, but he sounded more tired than anything else.

"But that emphasises the point even more." Sir Morgan crowed. "What are the Knights Francesca doing to protect us from the depredations of the Jack entity? This cannot go on, when are you going to admit that the Knights are out of their depth?"

"We have already made great strides in our investigation. But I would remind you fine gentlemen that…"

"Answer the question." Sir Morgan insisted. "What are you doing to…"

I swore again and pushed through.

"Gentlemen," I began, talking loudly. "Please would you allow me a moment to offer my condolences to Sir Guillaume on the loss of his aunt."

"Of course, but now is hardly the time." Sir Alain responded. "Grief over the dead should not take precedence over the protection of the living. There can be time to grieve later when my wife is no longer in danger from this… Jack creature. A creature which I notice that neither you, the so-called expert on the matter, or the Witcher that is glowering behind you can do anything about."

"Also, I notice that you are now deigning to help us. Lord Frederick." Sir Morgan added just a touch of sneering to his voice. And I also notice that Sir Guillaume's, well known, temper has not singled you out for response, even though it finally took the death of a noblewoman to rouse you from the bed of your whore."

There were a few gasps from the crowd.

The thought slickered across my mind. So Anne's presence was no longer a secret. A leaky ship indeed.

"A mistake that I notice that the Knights Errant duplicated the last time Jack was making his presence felt in Toussaint." I was trying to shift to the attack. In court, as on the training yard, it is always better to attack.

I saw Sir Guillaume's brow furrow in thought, praying that he would take the hint.

"It wasn't until a lady, my sister, was taken that the Knights Errant even dreamed of reacting."

"How dare you." Sir Morgan responded quickly. "No-one is denying that…"

A servant tugged me on the shoulder and muttered in my ear. "The Knight Commander wanted you to know that the Duchess is on her way."

I nodded. All I had to do was to delay a bit longer and the arrival of the Duchess would mean that casual conversation would neuter this crisis. Then we can move onto diffusing the next problem

"I beg your pardon." I told Sir Morgan.

"Is there something more important to you, Lord Frederick? Why do you insist on treating us all like second class people in the face of your much vaunted support for the field workers and farmers? You would place them above their anointed protectors."

"Actually, yes I would." I responded, "If only because without them, we don't eat. Let alone grow…"

"That's beside the point." Sir Alain snarled. "I would be the first to admit that Crawthorne was an ass and made mistakes. But he was one Knight amongst many. Your sister was unlucky in her disappearance that the Jack creature was present here."

"Precisely." Sir Morgan chimed in. "There are many Knights here, experienced, hardened men that have experience in dealing with situations like this. The Knights Francesca are new to the realm and as such they do not have the skills necessary. The Witcher has failed, as exhibited by the death of Lady de Launfal, maybe Lord Geralt would do better than some Cat witcher."

His disdain was rather obvious.

"This… Jack is undoubtedly a fine swordsman and a dangerous supernatural being. THis would not be the first time that some of us, even I, have faced such a demon. The Duchess would be far better served to dismiss the Knights of Saint Francesca and turn the matter over to a good and experienced man."

"You yourself often state the need to use a professional over an amateur." Sir Alain put in, his voice rising slightly. "So will you not admit that the Knights named for your sister have failed?"

"Yes." Morgan echoed, his own voice ringing out loud and buffeting me with the force of it. "Admit it Lord Frederick. The Knights of Saint Francesca have failed. This is a time for experience and sure hands. Only such as they would be able to find and destroy so horrible a supernatural demon as this… Jack." He sneered.

"Actually..." Sir Guillaume spoke up, his face red with anger.

And as he did so, my heart sank.

"Actually this Jack isn't…" Sir Guillaume's voice and indignation rose up before me like a physical thing.

I screamed.

For me, the entire thing seemed to happen as though time had been slowed down.

I remember seeing it all so clearly. I remember seeing the lines of antagonism that Sirs Morgan and Alain were using in order to get under both Guillaume, and my skin. I could see it. I could literally see it in the frown marks and the ever so slight laughter lines in Sir Morgan's face.

I saw it in Sir Morgan's sneer. There was just an edge to that sneer that told me that it wasn''t a regular kind of a sneer. It was not the off-the-cuff natural sneer of disdain. This thing was calculated, rehearsed and practised. I would not have been surprised to find out that Alain and Morgan had worked out how they were going to do all of this in advance.

And I saw what was going to happen.

I have never been in a serious horse riding accident. Not a carriage accident or a wagon accident. I have certainly fallen off a horse, everyone does sooner or later if they learn to ride. But that fact had been driven into my head over and over again so I kind of knew that it was coming. So I knew that I would wake up, possibly taste blood, be a little dazed and then get back on my horse.

But those people that have been in that kind of accident tell me that it's as though time slows down. It was like that. It was exactly like that.

I heard Sir Morgan's comment about Jack being so horrible a supernatural demon and I knew what Sir Guillaume would do in order to fight back.

I can't fault Sir Guillaume either. Some people might want to, for his naivete and the ease with which he had been goaded. I think that this is unfair. This was not his battleground. It was Morgan's and looking back. I rather think that it wasn't Alain's battleground either. Guillaume was also grieving his dead Aunt, had probably not slept or rested properly. And here were some people attacking him, the organisation that he represented, a friend in the figure of myself and all the other people that were working hard in order to ensure that those people that had already died were the last people to find their end.

He is a Knight. One of, if not the, best in the continent. And when Knights see comrades under attack, or feel as though they are under attack themselves, then they fight back.

So he did so, denying what they were saying.

And I froze. Even if only for a second. I felt an immense pressure coming at me from all sides, weighing down on my head and squeezing me at my shoulders. I could feel that pressure in my ears as though I was under deep waters and those same ears were ringing as I fought to find a way to avert potential disaster.

I could see the words coming out of Sir Guillaume's mouth. I could see them like ripples in the water and I could see where they were going to be.

My head started to pound as those words began to form and I fought to think what I could do, so I did the only thing that I could think of.

I screamed.

It was like an instant release of pressure and then my course was clear.

At some point, I had already raised my hands to the side of my head and I clenched my fists there. I rolled my eyes back in my head and groaned after the scream.

As I did so I pushed my thoughts through to Ariadne and although I wasn't particularly coherent during those thoughts, What I basically said was "Tell them I'm having a fit."

I groaned again and started falling backwards. Ariadne was there and caught me, carefully lowering my head to the ground.

I bit my lip as hard as I could until I tasted blood and forced my body to begin trembling. It can be done. It leaves you sore afterwards.

"For the Prophet's sake, give him some air." Ariadne wailed.

"You," Kerrass was there, of course Kerrass was there and I felt a surge of relief. "Give me your belt."

"What in the name of the…"

"GIVE ME YOUR DAMN BELT." Kerrass roared.

"I demand to know what's…"

"Lord Frederick is still recovering from injuries taken in the defence of those less fortunate than himself." Syanna addressed the court formally and forcefully as I felt a thick wad of leather forced into my mouth. A couple of feminine screams could be heard at the sight of the blood.

I would later find out that Ariadne had spoken to Lady Vigo through some form of Telepathic link who had, in turn, spoken to Syanna. "He is all but killing himself in aiding us in the pursuit of this resurgence of the Jack phenomena and as such, we owe him our respect. Give him some room."

'You don't have the authority to…"

"Yes." Came another, much colder and more trained voice. "Yes she does.

I was still doing my best to tremble convincingly on the floor. Kicking my feet occasionally and whimpering into Ariadne's midriff. Not an unpleasant place to be generally speaking.

The court that had been chuntering and muttering in the wake of my "swoon" quietened instantly as the cold presence of the Duchess entered the room.

There is a noise that you can hear in Courtrooms all around the continent. It's the noise that occurs when the most powerful person in the court enters the room. I saw it when the Empress entered somewhere, When my father used to hold court as well as numerous Lords and ladies the continent over who have engaged Kerrass' services in one form or another.

It's the sound of dresses, cloaks, trousers, armour and the occasional clang of a sword clashing on the floor, as everyone in the room moved aside and bowed for the Duchess as she strode into the Courtroom like a War galley parting the waves.

I've actually seen a war galley under sail now and can confirm that this is exactly what it looks like.

I listened to that sound, as well as the slow, clear footsteps as the Duchess got closer and closer to where I lay, doing my best to keep my eyes closed and tremble convincingly.

"What is going on here?" The Duchess demanded formally. "And why is there blood on my floor? Explain yourselves gentlemen, did you attack one of the guests of my court?"

"Not in the slightest." Sir Alain sounded mortified. I couldn't see because I was still forcing my body to imitate violent spasms. I was trying to emulate the stage where you are mostly recovered but just occasionally, your body betrays you.

"I agree." Sir Morgan had a touch of frustration in his voice. Why? It was a little unclear. It might have been the fact that I had denied his courtly play or it might have been frustration at the fact that his quarry had escaped him. It was just as likely that he was frustrated that he had been accused of assaulting me when clearly, performing such an act would be wrong of him on a deep and personal level.

"Commander?" The Duchess demanded.

Syanna cleared her throat. "Lord Frederick has been working hard alongside my people in order to try and track, contain and eliminate the Jack entity. It might be said that his devotion to this duty has caused a relapse into his injuries from his previous efforts to keep the continent safe from evil."

"I see. Will he be alright?"

"I defer to Madame La Comtesse du Angral."

"He will be fine." Ariadne said calmly with just a hint of concern. "He just needs some air and then some time to recover his wits. Might I ask for somewhere private for him to go so that he can do that. He will be mortally ashamed when he wakes up."

"Of course. Please tell him that Toussaint is grateful for his efforts on our behalf and that the shame is ours for putting him in this position."

"I will do so." She said. "Witcher Kerrass, could I ask you to help Lord Frederick into an adjoining room."

"I am at your service." Kerrass rumbled.

I muttered something.

"Give me a hand Sir Guillaume." Kerrass said.

There was some clanking of armour as Guillaume knelt next to me and between the two of them, they "helped" me to my feet.

"I ask that I may be allowed to accompany Lord Frederick. He has been acting under my orders and his illness now is my responsibility. I would see him recovered." Syanna said. "After all, we wouldn't want our starlings to come home to roost would we."

I had to physically keep myself from responding to that. It seemed an odd phrase to use.

"Absolutely not." Sir Morgan protested. "We are gathered here for you to explain to the court why "Jack" is neither in your custody, nor is he destroyed. You will stay here and…

"Of course you may go Commander, and I would remind the honourable gentleman that this is my courtroom and that I give the orders here. I have no doubt that my sister will be able to return here in order to give her account of the matter after Lord Frederick recovers. And then we might be able to rely on his opinions as well."

"Of course," Sir Morgan conceded with little grace. "Forgive me."

"You are forgiven. We share your eagerness to put this matter behind us. Damien," the Duchess called. "You go with the Knight Commander as well and see to it that Lord Frederick is not disturbed during his recovery."

Someone clicked their heels together, but I was already being led, almost carried away by Kerrass and Guillaume.

I was pulled out into the outside corridor and I started to get my feet under me…

"Not yet Freddie." Kerrass whispered, and I tried to lie a bit heavier in the arms.

I was taken into another room. It turns out that you can tell by the movement of the air.

"Everybody out." Syanna ordered. "Lord Frederick is ill and we require privacy."

"Leave the tea and the pot of honey." Ariadne ordered. "Also, bring some iced buns."

"But knock on the door before entering." Syanna added. "I will have the head of anyone that disobeys this as it might seriously damage one of the Duchess' honoured guests."

There were some more footsteps moving around and some doors closing.

"It's safe Freddie." Ariadne said, "but don't try to do too much. Even pretending to have a fit can trick the body into thinking that you are having a fit, be gentle with yourself."

I nodded and allowed myself to be helped upright, when that task was managed and I was able to get past the ringing in my ears and the slight dizzy spell, I opened my eyes carefully.

"Wait," Sir Guillaume was frowning, "That was a pretense?"

"Mostly," Ariadne allowed. "There were some other things going on so I'm only happy with allowing that it was mostly a pretense."

"In the name of the heron why?" Guillaume protested. You can take the man out of the Knights Errant but you can't take the Knight Errant out of the boy.

"I beg your pardon Sir Guillaume." I said as I stretched my legs. Ariadne was right, I felt stiff and uncomfortable. "But you were about to give things away to our enemies."

"Oh well that's alright then." The matter was dismissed out of hand with a speed that was a little bewildering.

The context of the matter was that Syanna was trying to instill in her Knights that lying, cheating, stealth and otherwise dishonourable tactics are perfectly acceptable in the face of an enemy. Especially one that has no honour themselves.

Sir Guillaume had already decided that our enemies had no honour.

He was not wrong.

Then his ears caught up with what I had said. "Wait, Sirs Morgan and Alain are our enemy?"

"Maybe." Syanna said. "They're certainly on the list."

"The truth is that even if they are not, the people doing this were almost certainly listening." I told them. "As I say, I think I know what's happening here."

Kerrass pulled a chair closer and looked around. "I have found in my time with Freddie," he said to the room. "That if he is having a hunch, then generally that hunch is correct."

I considered this compliment. "The Dragon." I eventually decided.

"Also, that something was seriously wrong regarding your father's death." He responded, settling himself in the chair.

Syanna also pulled over a chair, "Then let's hear it."

Other people gathered around me, at some point, someone had draped a blanket over my shoulders which I thought was a bit of overkill, but then again, I was also shivering.

Never let it be said that dealing with mental injuries can't be weird sometimes. I had faked the attack, but then, in doing so, it seemed I had triggered something of a real one.

I frowned in thought, looking around at all the expectant faces and tried to think about where to start. Sometimes, this is not as easy as it sounds.

"Why Starlings?" I asked suddenly.

"What?" Syanna blinked.

"Why "Starlings coming home to roost"? I thought that the saying was about Pigeons coming home to roost."

"I fail to see how this is relevant…"

"Don't fight it." Kerrass poured himself a drink. "Freddie's mind is an interesting place at the best of times and when he's thinking, or scared, often when he's angry, his mind throws out these random questions. It's like…"

I should say that I zoned out at this point, staring into space as I thought about my theory again. I was pretty sure I was right.

Apparently though, what Kerrass said was "It's like when you are riding a race horse. Do you ride race-horses?"

"I do." Guillaume said. "It's often a part of the tournaments and although it's not my favourite, or best, event. It is important to hone these techniques."

"Well when you are racing your horses, there are obstacles, targets to shoot or strike with a weapon. Fences or ditches to jump. In this method, Freddie's mind is the horse and the random questions that he throws out are the obstacles that just… occur to him. I once saw him ask an angry shapeshifting dragon where her staff came from when she turned into a Sorceress."

"So what do we do?"

'Just answer the question. If he doesn't spit out the theory, then just prompt him occasionally. I do it with food, or a sword point sometimes if I'm feeling testy."

Apparently, Damien sniggered.

"In which case. Starlings are…. Freddie are you listening?"

"Hmm?" I came back to myself and the room with a snap.

"The Starlings coming home to roost is a code phrase between my sister and myself. We change the phrase every few weeks or so, but it essentially means, "don't ask, just trust me. I'll explain later." Something that she came up with actually. I love my sister, that is when I don't want to claw her smug, superior and arrogant eyes out. But she has a devious mind and she thought we might need such a phrase. Of course, I can't execute her if she's doing it just to annoy me."

I nodded and paused as I waited for my thoughts to line up.

"This is about you." I told her.

"What?"

"The Jack killings." I said. "It's not about the women, the killings or the brutality. It's not about the fear that they are generating or all the changes that they might be making. It's about you. They are coming after you and the rest of the Knights Francesca."

"Why not just kill me?" Syanna wondered for just a moment before her face almost relaxed. "Oh, because then I'll be a martyr."

I nodded. "I think that there's a group of conspirators somewhere. I don't know who, but as sure as I'm sitting here talking to you now, the leader of the conspiracy was in that courtroom getting ready to haul you over the coals for your handling of these killings. I don't know if it's a group of Knights, or a group of merchants, or noblemen. I don't know if it's just one person and some servants, mercenaries or bandits that they've hired. Or if it's a much larger conspiracy. But I'm pretty sure I'm right here."

"Why would they do that?" Guillaume wondered. "What would be in it for any of those groups? I struggle to believe that some of my former colleagues among the Knights Errant would stoop to such a pretense. Even Gregoire would…"

"It might also be an attack against the Empress." I theorised. "The last Jack incident in Toussaint resulted in the disbanding of the Knights Errant at the Empress' hand. Now there's another series of attacks and they want to discredit her changes."

"Or an attack on my sister as well. The Knights Francesca are her idea as well as ours."

"But as to why they're doing it, or coming after the Knights Francesca? Merchants might do it out of greed. The old Knights Errant worked on the honour system. So when merchants needed to get around a higher tax or tariff as they came into Toussaint, could be avoided or mitigated with the buying of the relevant Knight Errant a cup of wine at the inn. Then the Knight says that the merchant is "a good man and a good friend and doesn't need to have his wagons inspected" and is therefore dismissed. But you are training the Knights Errant not to do that."

"We are."

"Landowners are the same. When it was the Knight Errant system, a landowner could avoid inspections, sell wine on the side or do any other kinds of things because the Knights Errant knew him to be "a man of honour". As such, a man of honour wouldn't dream of growing the raw ingredients for Fiss-tech in one of the remoter parts of the grounds so why bother looking.

"And as for Knights, they just want their old power back. A return to the glory days when they could walk down the street and people would bow and scrape and be grateful just to be in the presence of so august personage."

"You are being a little naive as well there Freddie." Kerrass said. "There is another reason why people might hate the Knight Commander."

"And why is that?" Syanna's eyes glittered as she smiled slightly. I am very nearly convinced that she knew what Kerrass was going to say.

"You are the woman that brought the vampires down onto Beauclair." Kerrass said. "It was not that long ago that that happened. It was only, what, a couple of years before the Fish-Market?"

"Less." Damien was shifting uncomfortably. "A little less."

"And now you are in a position of power when some folk might think that they should be in charge of the new order of Knights. Your sister has forgiven you, those that work for you might forgive, or tolerate you. But others will not forgive or forget so easily."

Syanna sighed. "It was to be expected." She said. "I'm just surprised that they've started so quickly. I would have thought that they would have waited a year or two at the least."

"I am sorry." De La Tour said.

"Why?" Syann wondered, looking at him with a lopsided smile. "Have you betrayed me? Have you betrayed Toussaint?"

"Of course not." Damien's moustache quivered in indignation.

"Then why are you sorry. Do you hate me?"

Damien sighed. "Sometimes." He admitted. "In the depths of the night when I can feel a Vampire's claws score my flesh. When I can feel the heat of the fires and hear the screams of the dying. The look of confusion and disbelief in the eyes of my men as they get dragged off to be eaten.

"And again when those men's families complain or weep. Or wonder why I support you and the Knights."

"Why do you?" I wondered. Syanna didn't look like she was going to ask and I was curious.

"Because to do otherwise is unthinkable. Because she is trying to make Toussaint a better place. Because she was trying to make it right and it was her sister that stopped her from going to Detlaff. Because Detlaff unleashed those Vampires."

He shook his head. "Yes, sometimes I hate Syanna. But the things that killed those men were the Vampires in question. At a push, they were killed by the General that sent them. And I will say this again Knight Commander, and again every time you need to hear it. Yes, I sometimes hate you. No, I do not blame you."

Syanna nodded. It had the feel of an old conversation.

"I want to go back to the beginning though." De La Tour said. "I get that you think that this is what is happening. But why do you think that? What was the order of events?"

"Ok." I said, pausing one last time to order things in my head. "Here's how I think it happened.

"I think that there was a growing conspiracy that took place in the immediate aftermath of my sister's disappearance, the fish-market and the disbanding of the Knights Errant. At first, it might not even have been that sinister. Just a group of former Knights errant complaining over their lost prestige, complaining at the incompetence of the Knights that had lost them everything.

"I can easily imagine such men saying "I always knew that about young Crawthorne but the Duchess kept calling on him despite the presence of far better men." And then "The Duchess was always a bit soft on him. Do you reckon he was giving her a swift seeing to when court was done." And, "If only we had been the ones chosen, if only we had been at the Fish-Market then none of this would be happening." "Fucking Empress, barely off her mother's aponstrings, how dare she interfere with our business." And on and on it would go.

"Some of these men will have grown up and got on with life. Some may have joined with the Knights Francesca when they finally managed to let go of their bitterness…"

"I was one of those people." Admitted Sir Guillaume.

"So was I," Damien added.

"But then… I think there was a period of turnover. Where people would come and go but a solid core of people were getting together and their resentment and disdain for the actions of the Empress was being distilled into raw hatred. Merchants joined when the Nilfgaardian presence started cracking down on smuggling and trade. Landowners started to join when the same happened and things like tolls and unofficial farming rents and taxes were curtailed."

"That actually happened." Sir Guillaume spoke up. "There was a village to the north that paid it's taxes to the landlord, but then the Lord would send round glorified bandits to take further taxes. We couldn't prove it was him, even though everyone knew who it was."

"But then, enter our unknown group of masterminds, or mastermind. They get these people and say "Well, instead of sitting around and moaning about it all day, why don't we do something about it." I don't know when this happened, but if I had to guess, it would be somewhere around when you Syanna, and or you Damien, were appointed head of the Knightly order that would replace the Knights Errant. Then old, or not so old, hatreds and prejudices come to the fore and people start getting really angry and our enemies make their plans."

"Fascinating story." Damien said, "No no, it's all very feasible, but up until now… We can't prove anything that Freddie is saying and our suspect pool includes myself and Guillaume."

"Well let me narrow it down. I think this entire thing started with the attack on Lady Vivienne."

Guillaume had been standing nearby when I said this. He raised his eyes to mine and that gaze was so cold that I shivered. He seemed to consider.

"I think." He said carefully. "I think you should explain that declaration, Lord Frederick."

"And I will. Lady Vivienne was attacked the night that the Knights Francesca took over guardianship of Toussaint correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I think that that was the initial intention. I think that the plan was to kidnap, torture, and kill… Lady Vivienne."

"Do not mince words Lord Frederick," Guillaume snarled. "They were going to rape, abuse and disfigure her as well."

"Yes." I said. "Yes they were. I think that this was a deliberate and considered "fuck you" to you Guillaume for joining the Knights Francesca in the first place rather than maintaining your opposition to the new order. I think it was going to be a statement of "Look, you can't even keep one of the most prominent citizens of Toussaint safe, how can you be trusted to keep the rest of us." blah blah blah. I think that it would have been in the court the following day that the Knights Francesca hadn't been properly trained and how this could be allowed to happen. There would be hand wringing, wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"In the meantime the Duchess would be emotional from the loss of her friend, Guillaume would be distraught for obvious reasons and things would start to fall apart. Then it would only be natural for the old Knights Errant to step up and take control to preserve and look after Toussaint. In order to steady the ship."

Syanna grimaced. "That might have worked as well." She said, "Although I think it's far more likely that we would just be stuck with Nilfgaardian professionals for longer, maybe indefinitely."

"But," I said. Their efforts to do so against Lady Vivienne were foiled because they underestimated the lady in question."

"Yes they did." Guillaume smiled and sat down, his brief moment of temper dissipating.

"So, injured, frustrated, angry and with more than a little stymied lust in them. Those men retreated to lick their wounds. There was a conversation among themselves along the lines of "The Guard will be out now." And I think that the conspiracy lost some members there.

"But then one of the conspirators and attackers decides that his rage erection just won't go down and says so. Insisting that they find a woman. Another says, or maybe the same one, but someone says. "'Ere. There's this girl that works at the Cockatrice, name of Appoline. She's gorgeous and is always turning me down as well…" Which reminds me. Can we add a list of people that Lady Vivienne declined for marriage before she accepted your proposal Guillaume. That might tell us much."

He nodded.

"So they all troop off to do to poor Appoline what they wanted to do to Vivienne, this time taking the precaution of clubbing her over the head first so she was less likely to be able to mount a proper amount of self-defence."

I turned to Guillaume.

"I think your wife owes her life to the fact that they did not think of that in her case.

"However," I went on. "Appoline's death does not have the same effect on Toussaint as Vivienne's death would. The attack on your wife Guillaume, also meant that the attack on Appoline was lost in the noise. Our guys became disappointed by this. But then, our mastermind steps back to the fore and says. "No, don't you see? This works for us."

I took a short break to take something to drink and to eat one of the pastries that had appeared at some point. It was one of those moments where I had no idea what time it was, had forgotten the last time I had eaten anything substantial and had therefore realised that I was absolutely starving.

The others in the room were exchanging looks. I had no idea what those looks meant so I forged on.

"This man," I began again, "I say this man because I cannot imagine the person being a woman." Weak of me? Possibly but there we go. "This man, this leader figure is the dangerous one I think. And I think we have to assume that he is already thinking ahead of us. We have to assume that he has planned this out and knows where he, and we, are going.

"I think he said something along the lines of "This quiet works for us. Because it shows that the Knights of Saint Francesca are neglecting their duties. They don't care about this common barmaid any more than the old Knights Errant did. So let's use that. Also, we did so badly the first time we did this, we need some practice. So let's kill again. Another person out in the sticks, someone that no-one else will ever care about. Someone that we can all but get away with, someone that will be ignored. Then, next time we can start building ourselves up to the point that we are dancing around and doing our thing in the middle of Beauclair and no-one can stop us."

""But hold on," says a supporter, "There are still quite a few Knights and for all that the Knights might be relatively inexperienced, the Beauclair guard know what they're doing. They are surely not Knights, but they are far nastier and more unpleasant than Knights. And there's a lot more of them than us. As there are Knights of Saint Francesca."

"The leader considers this for a moment before remembering Jack. There could be any number of reasons as to why that is. The Francesca connection, that they might be upset with Emma and her mercantile efforts, my family in general for any number of reasons. Me. Or Kerrass. But they remember Jack.

""Then here's what we will do." He said. "We will pretend. We will dress as Jack, impose our will, use cheap tricks to pretend that we have special powers that Jack exhibits when he is actually here and then we build things up and build things up until we can take it to court and prove how incompetent the Knights, and the Knight Commander are."

"And that's what I think is happening." I said. "I think Madame Donnet was another unfortunate who had declined the attentions of the wrong person and paid the ultimate price for it. I think that that was the first time that "Jack" was attempted. Remember that he was caught, literally, with his dick hanging out. I think it was a test run. I think it was one man, as a volunteer. Someone young and convinced of his immortality. Confident that they wouldn't get caught.

"When that worked and they heard about some of the growing resentment amongst the farm and village folk. They decided to up their game and come up with a slightly more elaborate plan. One of the conspirators thought about Flower of the Night and remembered that they had always wanted her and that they had never had the chance to give that a go.

"It was at least two men but probably more. One dressed as Jack on the rooftop with a bag of gore or something to dip his knife in when the body would be discovered. One or two to club Night flower over the head and carry her to the chosen alley where they did their business. Unfortunately, we will not, now, know if that site was staged the same way as Lady de Launfal's death was staged. So it is also possible that the place was set up in advance.

"But they did the deed, the scream attracted the drunk. I honestly think that the killers were still hidden in the alley when the drunk was finally able to see Jack, hidden behind a barrel somewhere.

"This success emboldens the killers even further. They know about the party, indeed I suspect that more than one of them were in attendance at that party. They know about Lady Marie and so they decide to escalate things a little bit. To get the moral outrage of the countryside up a bit more by despoiling and killing a generally popular, flower of innocence. This time, it involves lots of people. Using the methods that they probably took from journals and the story of Jumping Jack of Oxenfurt. They lead the guard on a merry chase."

I looked at Damien.

"If I'm right." I told him. "And I suspect I am. But if I'm right. Don't be too hard on your people. They will have been scared, angry and not thinking clearly. I don't think we can blame them for not thinking clearly."

"If what you're saying is true." He said. "Then I can blame them a little bit. They should have been thinking clearly, if only because they might have been being led into a trap. I deliberately train them into not doing that."

"Finish your theory Freddie." The Knight Commander told me.

"Now they're doing well." I said. "They have demonstrated that the Guard cannot catch them, that their subterfuge works, public opinion is getting worse. The Lowest worker up to the highest lady is involved. I also think that they have someone, or several someones that are involved in the investigation so that they know where we are with things and as a result, they know about it when you finally manage to get Kerrass and I involved.

"But, they don't want the Knights to be thinking clearly on one hand, but they want to be a little more cautious on the other. So now they start attacking the Knights. So they attack the estranged wife of your weaponsmaster. That attack was rushed, sloppy. They take chances, but they rush it in order to not get seen, caught or identified. They leave that message to me because they know that I am not entirely well and hope that that pressure would make me worse and less useful to you. They hope that Lady de Launfal's death will anger you, as in "The Knights" you. And that that anger will throw you off your game a little.

"Which is when the other side of the plot starts to get to work," I said. "So right now, you are supposed to be in that courtroom, surrounded by peers, angry, hurt and desperately keeping things together as they batter you with accusations of incompetence, favouritism and Flame only knows what else. All in an effort to get you to lose your temper or otherwise regress into the woman that they all suspect you to be.

"All building towards the idea that they hope that, at best for them, the Knights of Saint Francesca are disbanded and authority is returned to the Knights Errant. At worst, they can get Syanna replaced with a Knight more sympathetic to their cause who can continue to dismantle the Knights of Saint Francesca from within. In the meantime, your enemies are in there, waiting for you, to gauge where your thinking is and what you are doing."

I leant back in my chair, fair exhausted.

"There is another factor too." Of all people, Ariadne made the point. "You were all summoned to make an account of yourselves. In this room, I see the best investigators of the crimes. The people that we know for sure are not part of the plot. That are definitely not leaking to someone else. You are all here at court and not investigating. I would add a supposition to Freddie's which is that the court procedure is going to be drawn out and dragged out to the point that you will have ended up wasting your day. Then, when someone dies again tonight, the same thing will happen tomorrow."

Syanna's face was impassive as she listened.

"I am intrigued by this "mastermind" figure." She said. "What can you guess about him?"

"Just so long as you know that I'm guessing." I told her. "I think that he is the one that knows about Jack. Others will know cursory details, but he will actually know the details. He will almost certainly be well aware that the real Jack comes for copycats in the end and I would therefore bet a, not small amount of money that he has never, and will never, wear a Jack costume. I would also bet that he has careful alibis for every night that someone has died and I would go even further to bet that he will cut his subordinates out the instant that it all starts to go wrong. Because he knows that it will. One way or another."

Syanna nodded, frowned a little as she accepted all of that, then nodded again.

"Alright. Thankyou Freddie. What does everyone else think? Witcher?"

"I think it's plausible." Kerrass said. "Leaving aside Freddie's ability to be right far more often than he is wrong, I can confirm that there was certainly more than one person that was masquerading as Jack the night that Lady Marie was killed. I would say, anywhere between four to eight people were involved in that effort."

"Not a mage?" Damien wondered.

"No. To do what they did, a mage would need to teleport and there are no signs of teleporting."

"What signs?"

"Ariadne?" Kerrass prompted.

She smiled. "A mage does not just vanish and reappear where we want to go. That's not how it works. We open a hole… There are more technical pieces of language involving things like "space-time" and "folding distance," but that's essentially what it does. It opens a hole, a tunnel from one location to the other. Big enough for one, at higher skill and power levels you can do two or more people. The signs that Kerrass is talking about is that opening such a gate does not leave the surrounding areas undisturbed.

"Think like water spiralling down a hole in the floor. But it can tug loose debris, roof tiles, bricks, bits of wood, that sort of thing. The less stable the tunnel, the more debris is thrown around. And one of the factors that can decrease the stability of a tunnel is doing it quickly. Say, while running away from a bunch of angry guardsmen?"

Kerrass nodded. "That's why it wasn't a mage. The broken roof tiles that I found were from foot falls and the occasional slipping of a runner. Someone climbing over rooftops that are not really used to it. There were no overturned loose tiles or other disturbances of debris."

"Ok, no signs of any other creatures? You said that a Witcher could do it? I'm not saying that one has, but I'm saying that one could do it."

"Even at my highest intake of potions. If I had taken so many potions that my belly sloshed around. If I had taken enough potions that even I ran the risk of being poisoned. There were feats that Jack demonstrated that night that I could not perform. The supposed presence of a Witcher simply means that less people would be needed. Two or three people rather than the "at least four" people that I mentioned.

"I like Freddie's theory." Kerrass turned back to Syanna. "It fits the facts that we know, it's believable, it's suitably cunning but has enough holes in it to be very human in construction. I will admit that I'm biased, but I'm sold."

Syanna nodded.

"Guillaume?"

The big man with the painfully expressive face that creased in concentration for a moment, shook his head. "I don't think my opinion should count."

"Why not?"

"Freddie's theory suggests that my wife's attackers are behind this. All this time I have been fighting the instinct that tells me to drop all this nonsense and hunt, Knight Errant style, for those men. Now Freddie tells me that they might be behind these deaths, and that they intended to do the same things, if not worse, to my wife." Honest to flame tears started to flow down his face. "I am not thinking clearly. I want to tear the court apart and find the men responsible. I want to destroy Beauclair, brick by brick until those waste's of human life are brought before my sword. I should not give my opinion. Indeed, were I in your place I would send me to my home, or keep me in the palace under guard so I don't do anything stupid."

Damien clapped the young man on his shoulder. Whether in pride, solidarity? I don't know.

"Would that I could." Syanna said, her own eyes showing a hint of pride beneath the steel. "I really wish that I could. But the one thing that we know to be true, before all else, is that we can not, yet, completely trust our fellows and subordinates. Not through fault of their own but they are fighting years of conditioning and training."

"I think you are wrong there." Guillaume said, his eyes blazing with the same passion that he had shown when talking about his wife, just a second before. "I think you are being unfair. There are good men and women in the guard and among the Knights. Men and women who would die for Toussaint and the Knights of Francesca. Who would bite off their own tongues before divulging confidences that you gave them."

"Most." Syanna agreed. "Most of them would. But just as many of them are trained from birth to obey parental and old alliances before me. Who want to view the Duchess, my sister, as a figurehead for them to control. We will get them out of that habit, but it will take time and we do not have time to play intelligence games to find out who we can trust. So we must trust the people in this room. You are one of those because one of those deaths is of your family. And Freddie's theory suggests that you are a target. So I must insist. What do you think of the theory?"

Guillaume wailed a little and threw his hands up in the air. "It's a good theory." He said. "I like it. I can see some holes in it but it does fit all the facts and I can think of several of my former colleagues, even current colleagues, that would think like that."

"Oh?" Syanna's eyes glittered. "Current Colleagues?"

"The difference being that those men would harness those talents for your benefit. You know them already, you put them to guarding the trade routes and watching the docks. You literally said that you would set a devious bastard to watch for devious bastards."

"That's not what I said." Syanna grinned. "But it's close. Madame Comtesse?"

"I am hardly one of your team." Ariadne raised an eyebrow.

Flame but I love it when she does that.

"I'm not going through this again." Syanna told her. "What do you think of the theory?

"I'm a scientist. A theory is a set of principles put together in order to explain something that is supported by data." Ariadne replied. "As theories go, it is a good one. It is believable, it obeys all laws of human nature and most importantly, it contains all the facts. Are there holes in it? Of course, no theory is perfect. But in this case, I rather think that the holes in the theory are there because there is evidence that we don't yet know about. Not because there are facts that fall outside the trend of results.

"The main problem that I can see with the theory is that it is very nearly just an hypothesis in that there is no evidence to support it. It explains the circumstances and the data that we have, but is otherwise unsupported by independent facts. It is also based on two assumptions. Which means that if either of those assumptions turns out to not be true, then the entire theory falls apart. Those assumptions being Kerrass' assertion that there is more than one person involved with this conspiracy and Freddie's similar assertion that what we are dealing with is not Jack. If either of those things turn out to not be true, then the entire theory falls apart. "

"Do you agree with those…" Syanna smirked. "Assumptions?"

"For me? I think it's true that these killings are too crude to be the work of the entity Jack and when the world leading expert in the field is telling you something is true, then it is often true. But that is not proof, it is opinion. The theory is a very complex one. It is my experience that in nature, things default to the simplest explanation. In this case, the simplest explanation is still that it is Jack and that we have not found the connection yet."

She turned to Kerrass. "Your declaration that the attack on Lady Marie and the ensuing chase was carried out by multiple people is based on the assumption that Jack isn't involved is it not?"

Kerrass tilted his head on one side for a moment before shrugging and nodding.

"Then there we have it. I agree with those assumptions. But they are not proven, not yet. It is well within Jack's sense of humour to use Pig's blood to scrawl a message on the wall, as it would be a practical solution for human killers."

There was a bit of silence after that where people looked at each other. Damien would later admit that he was still trying to work out all of the words that Ariadne had said.

"Do you not…?" Guillaume cleared his throat. "Freddie, do you not find it intimidating when she starts talking like that?"

Kerrass started chuckling.

"Or boring?" Damien went on. "Don't you find yourself wanting to fall asleep when she talks like that?"

"Not exactly." I said. "I find myself wanting to take her to bed and tear all her clothes off."

"Huh."

Kerrass stopped trying to hide the fact that he was out and out laughing.

"Thank you for the…" Syanna paused as she tried to figure out the right word.

"The term is "analysis" Knight Commander." Ariadne smiled at me.

"Yes, well. Damien." She turned on the Guard Captain. "What do you think of Freddie's theory?"

"It's a good theory." He said. "But I like what Ariadne said. It's a far more complicated plan than I would be happy with if I was involved in it. Say what you like about some of the former Knights Errant, but they are far from stupid and you might need to be stupid to start the plan, but to push it as far as this one has already been pushed would take intelligence and education. Those Knights that have both, would know the saying that no plan survives first contact with enemy forces."

"That makes them more dangerous, not less." I answered. "Because they will also know the follow up saying which is that once you have made your plan, spend all your time coming up with contingencies for when things, inevitably, start to go wrong."

"So it's a complex plan." Syanna agreed. "I will admit that I agree with Freddie's assessment. It is a complex plan but I notice that the moment that we are obviously taking it seriously, the very moment that they knew that Lord Frederick and Witcher Kerrass were involved, then the plans became simpler again. Clubbing a woman over the back of the head, staging the scene, killing the woman and then fleeing is much less elaborate than a rooftop, multiple street chase. It is that… adaptation to circumstances that makes me believe in what is happening here. That feels very human to me. From what little I've had time to read on Jack, it would occur that he would not care to adapt. He would literally escalate things in order to aggravate us and drive us to mistakes."

She climbed to her feet and paced a little bit.

"Right. I can see two possibilities. The first is that Lord Frederick is wrong and that this is still Jack. The second is that it is a group of humans and that Freddie's theory is correct. We need to work both aspects of the case. How do we prove either side?"

"The proof of Jack's presence or lack thereof is tricky." I heard myself say. "I am as sure as I can be that he is not here, but if he is, then there is still a pattern here, we're just not seeing it. How do we prove that he is here?" I shrugged. "I think it will be easier to prove that something else is going on before we can prove that Jack is here in person."

"We should not ignore that possibility though." Damien spoke up. "Just because we haven't found a connection doesn't mean that there isn't one."

"No." I agreed. "But also, the fact that we haven't found a connection, doesn't prove the existence of one. After all," I gestured at Ariadne, "The simplest solution there is that there isn't a connection. If there is one, then it is something so obscure and convoluted. Jack would choose a simple connection. If it turned out that Lady de Launfal did turn out to be selective of her… forgive me Guillaume, selective of her partners, then the sample size is small enough that she is more known for the opposite than the other."

"I can agree with that." Syanna said. "Kerrass, would you indulge me in that regard? Continue to track down similarities between the two factors and see if you can find a connection?"

"And if I can't?" Kerrass wondered. "At what stage do we admit that there isn't one?"

"I don't know but we haven't reached that point yet." Syanna responded. "But before you go. Let's ruminate Freddie's theory a bit longer. If that is the case, and we are working against a cabal of merchants, noblemen and Knights Errant, then how do we deal with that?"

"The same way that you break a smuggling ring." Damien said. "You find that part of the circle that is vulnerable and then you draw it out. You keep drawing it out and then you draw it out a bit more. You keep tugging away at the problem until part of it gives way, the problem here is that if Lord Frederick is correct, then they are already steps ahead of us. We need to break out of their plan."

"And what is their plan?" She turned to me.

I felt a little as though I had already done my bit of the thinking for the day and rather fancied just having a rest now. It is never fun to have people poke holes in all of your theories. Even while you understand that it is a necessary part of the process.

I took a deep breath and tried to get my brain to start working again. "I think…" I took another breath. "I think that we have to assume that their goal is nothing less than the discrediting of the Knights Francesca in general and the other people in this room.

"They can't just kill you. They must destroy you first. I think that what happens next is that the people in this room will start to be discredited, attacked personally and professionally."

"How will they do that?"

"I'm just guessing but I will be discredited as being weak and cowardly for my illness. Kerrass will be attacked for his normal Witcher problems."

"Freak," Kerrass said.

"Mutant." I added.

"They might struggle with that in the long run." Damien said. "Toussaint has a lot of respect for Lord Geralt and Witchers are well known to us."

"Ok, then they will find another way and we should consider how else Kerrass is vulnerable. Ariadne can be attacked for her connections to Dettlaff and her vampiric nature. I think you are already aware of yours, and Damien's weaknesses, Guillaume's too."

"What are my weaknesses?" He wondered.

"Your temper." Syanna, Damien and I answered almost together.

"Your love for your wife." Ariadne told him after we had finished. "Even though it makes you stronger, in many ways it also leaves you vulnerable.

The poor man's face reddened.

"I think," I went on. "that you are going to spend the next few days, or even weeks being provoked." I said. "I think you will be insulted, your friends will be insulted, your wife will be insulted. All in ways that the insulter could claim to be joking or to not really mean it. You are already vulnerable because of the attack on your wife and the death of your aunt. It is not unreasonable to expect any man to crack and lose his temper under those circumstances."

He nodded. "Then I shall avoid court where possible and constantly have duties that involve me talking with other people. It is not so far from the truth after all."

I noticed that he didn't try and argue that we were being unfair.

"But make sure that you are making note of who is needling you." I said. "People will be trying to provoke you. Let them, laugh at them, and carefully note who is frustrated when you don't rise to the bait."

"From an outsiders perspective, what are our weaknesses?" Syanna asked, gesturing to Damien and herself.

"That's easy. Each other."

Syanna did not smirk although I think she wanted to. Her eyes did glitter though.

"You misunderstand." I told her. "It's not the romantic feelings that you may or may not hold for each other. But you are the two people that are holding Law and Order together in Toussaint now. You are inseparable, even if you are not a couple. One cannot do the job without the other. For them to beat you, they must separate you. I would expect people to be reminding Damien as to how many men he lost during the night of the Long Fangs." I turned to him. "You will be reminded over and over and over again as to how that was Syanna's fault and about how much you should hate her."

Damien and Syanna looked at each other. It was Syanna who lowered her gaze first.

"So what now?" Damien asked.

"We need to get back to work." Syanna said firmly.

"We will take this time and tell everyone that we did not have time to have everyone standing in front of a courtroom and answering questions. That there was still work to do and while Freddie was recovering from his… admittedly very convenient, attack… How are we going to explain that by the way? It did happen at an awfully convenient time."

"I dislike the subterfuge." Guillaume said. "But I do remember Sir Morgan rather getting in Freddie's face and yelling at him."

"Good. then we will use that. Everytime someone gets a little too far in your face Lord Frederick, groan, start to tremble if you can and then we will get them to back off accordingly."

"Such a ploy is not the sort of thing we can use often." Ariadne said, frowning slightly. "Nor should we."

"I agree." Kerrass spoke up.

"No," Syanna agreed. "But what it will do is start to pretend that we are weak in the face of the enemy, except for the fact that we are strong.

"So we will tell the court that we took that time to catch up with ourselves and brief each other and that the rest of you would get back to work."

"They will say…" I began. "They will say that reporting to the court is more important. Can I suggest that the counter is to wonder what is more important, reporting what we know and have found out, or continuing to investigate and hopefully destroy or drive off Jack the next time he chooses a victim."

"Then they will say that we have plenty of other Knights to call on." Damien spoke up. "That dance is not unknown to me. I was tracking a smuggling ring once and the nobleman that stood to profit from the scheme summoned me and the guardsman that had found the stash and knew what to look for to find other stashes. So they wanted me to report to the court, plus the guardsman to explain how he had found the stash so that those mistakes could be avoided in the future."

I thought for a moment. "The response to that is to list all the other crimes that have been committed last night and shame the accuser by daring to suggest that those other deaths are less important than the deaths of Lady de Launfal and Lady Marie. They will counter that by saying that other people had been killed by Jack before that. To which, you respond to say "And where was your moral outrage when Miss Donnet was raped and killed?" They will be shocked so turn that into an attack by describing the horrific injuries and wonder why they didn't respond when the girl had been found and why they didn't complain then. After that, you can lose your temper and storm off or something wondering how they can dare to call themselves "Noble". It's a late game strategy though."

Syanna's smile had been growing as I spoke.

"On the other hand." I said, "You should wait on actually using that tactic until the last possible moment. We still need to know as much about our enemies as we can and one of the ways that we can do that is to try and watch who is the most vociferous in their attacks against you in the court."

She nodded.

"Right. And that's where you come in. You will come under attack for not leaping to the defence of Toussaint when the first death happened, as is expected as part of the requirements of hospitality. My sister and I can instantly leap to your defence and say that we are aware of what was happening there and that you are beyond reproach. It will also work to have you there so that you can be watching for the political plays."

"Why me?"

"You keep forgetting how much we have all read your existing writings Lord Frederick. We know about your skills as a courtier."

"Hardly "skills"." I snorted. "I'm an amateur at best."

"But Freddie, you have something that a lot of people lack." Kerrass spoke up from where he was sat, reading from his piece of paper again. "You have played politics where your own life is on the line, you have done this at a level that many of these men and women have not, even if they might be better than you. You walked into the wolf's den and came out."

"If you're talking about Cavill and co then I would point out that we hardly emerged from that unscathed."

"No, but he was looking for an excuse to kill us officially, you deprived him of that excuse. He had to resort to underhanded methods. I also recall you playing the matters of your Father's funeral, as well as various other courtrooms of our experience. What I'm talking about is the difference between using your sword in anger in a real fight, versus using your sword on the training field."

I grunted, a little unhappily.

"In the meantime." Syanna took my silence as assent. "I want the rest of us to work on the rest of the problem. As I say, Kerrass, I would ask that you continue working the connection to Jack, you are the most experienced detective we have when it comes to supernatural creatures and entities. And you know more about Jack than anyone here except for Freddie."

"Ok,"

"Madame La Comtesse, is there any way we can figure out who Lady de Launfal went to see last night. I understand that you can declare that she was amorous that night?"

"She was. It's tricky and I will need some other equipment. The other problem is that I can only compare it to other samples. I can't take a sample of blood or semen and say, "Ah ha, that belongs to this person." Names of people are titles given to us by others, not magical constructs after all."

Syanna looked disappointed. "Is there not a link between a person and their bodily fluids?"

"Yes. While they are inside the body. Once the blood, or the semen, or the sweat or waste products has left the body, it dies. Some faster than others but we're talking minutes, not hours or days."

Syanna sighed. "Then forgive me, I've never worked with a Vampire on defence and never with a Sorceress. How can you help me?"

"I think that I will aid Kerrass. I am aware of the different theories, I have read Freddie's work on the subject including the very large first draft that was rejected by his publishers. I am used to looking for order in chaos and I believe that that will be the best use of my time and talents."

"Done then. Guillaume and Damien? We have five murders to solve now. If there is not a simple connection as Lord Frederick would suggest, then there must be a more complex one. Keep working on the murders. I want to know who it was that Lady de Launfal saw that night. I want to confirm Gregoire's alibis for the nights in question. I want to follow up on Lord Tratamara's party. Who else was there, who was it really that assaulted Marie de Tratamara that night. Someone go and dig up Lord Treville and see if he can confirm any part of Lord Tratamara's story. And when you've done all of that… Think of something else to do."

Guillaume saluted while Damien nodded.

"Colonel Duberton once told me that crimes are not solved by amazing leaps of deductive reasoning like they are in the stories. They are solved by working on it, talking to people and walking the pavement. And also to always be grateful for the stupidity of everyday criminals."

"That's true." Kerrass said. "In my experience, I would add that they are also often solved because you have disproven everything else and the true solution is the only thing left."

Syanna snorted. "I like that. I shall keep it. Very well Freddie? Are you ready?"

"No," I forced myself to my feet.

"Good, then try and look pale while we go and face the music."

"Is there likely to be music?" I wondered.

"Probably not. Unless you count the slow drum beat while we wait to be executed."

"Cheery."

We all went about our tasks.

Every so often, I stop writing and take a look back at some of the previous issues of published work. Mostly to remember what I wrote compared to how people remember when they come up to me on the street, in court or at the university. You would be astonished as to how often it comes up that what a person reads in their head, and what I wrote turn out to be two completely different things. But that's not important right now. The thing that's important here is this.

I am becoming increasingly wary of hyperbole.

Therefore, I am not going to say that it was the worst afternoon and early evening of my life. It was not. It certainly felt like it at the time but that's not saying a great deal. The greatest crisis, the darkest day and the most dangerous and deadly battle that we fight is always the most recent one in memory. It would be very easy for me to say that it was the worst afternoon in my life. Or that it was the worst court experience of my life.

But that would be incorrect. However it was pretty bad. And I wasn't even the target of a lot of it. They came after Syanna from the moment that the two of us went back into the courtroom. I'm not going to go over it all here. This is one of those times where if I did so, then I would still be writing it today and I am sure that it would make for some very dry reading. Instead, I shall give you a brief overview of what happened as well as some small snippets of the various conversations.

As I say, they came after us the very moment that we can through the doors. Demanding to know where we had gone, what we had been doing. I shall give you this example, and as you read this, bear in mind that this was just one of the many times that questions of this kind were asked and even though the questions and comments were made in public and in front of everyone, these people insisted on asking the same questions over and over and over again. All the while, everyone else was listening in.

I checked the official record later and I must admit my gratitude to Lord Julian de Tensair who is the head of court records in Toussaint. His task is to keep the records in case the Duchess needs to refer back to something for legal precedence, or in case some busy body like me turns up and wants to know about obscure details that everyone else has forgotten. Truth be told, Lord Julian was incredibly grateful to see me and as such he just seemed pleased to be involved, even in some small way.

I emphasise that this actually happened. I am not making this up. So when the people in question complain that I am portraying them to be stupid, ignorant or some combination of the three, I will say it for them again. I literally took these snippets of conversation from the Ducal archives. So if they are wrong, then you are accusing the archivist of treason. If you want that fight, then you go for it, but I would suggest that you be careful as I'm not entirely convinced that you will win. And if you fail, then the consequences will be… dire. Attacking so devout and loyal a civil servant would be… catastrophic.

"How dare you Madam." Yelled a balding man in a yellow robe by the name of Lord Bacque. I could never find out what he was lord of and his name and face were soon lost to my memory in the weight of everyone else that wanted to yell at us.

"How dare you Madam?" He yelled. "You are summoned before this august body to answer for your conduct and neglect in the matter of the pursuit of Jack. And as soon as you get here, you disappear into a side room. Explain yourself Madam." He demanded.

"No." Syanna responded.

"How dare you?"

"I don't answer to you." She said moving past the man in question.

"You do." Another man called Lord Leroux, who's face escapes me for the moment. "You answer to the courts of Beaculair and to it's Lords and Ladies. In other words, you answer to the people here assembled. I, too, insist to know what gives you the right to swan off when you are summoned to make an account of yourself."

"As you may have seen." Syanna eventually admitted. "Lord Frederick was dragged from his sick-bed to lend us his expertise. He suffered a brief relapse and as the person that hauled him out of that bed, I felt that it was my responsibility to see that he returned to it. The Duchess, who does have the ability to summon me, agreed that this might be necessary."

No matter how many times she said that, or words to that effect, no matter how many times, she was ridiculed and her opinions dismissed before being forced to say exactly the same thing again.

And again

Here is another example of the wonderful diplomacy that was being played in the court of Beauclair that afternoon.

"Why didn't you ask for help?" Sir Morgan asked Syanna. "There are many fine, noble and above all experienced Knights here in the court. Men who would have been able to help you with the investigation, set up guard posts and do all the things that need to be done in this kind of instance."

"I have several responses to that question." Syanna responded. "First of all, I would disagree with the statement that I need help. My people were doing fine with the investigation as it was going on, we had plenty of leads to pursue, we were following up on things, searching areas and setting up the relative watches. In fact, I would go so far as to say that we were well along with things until we all had to waste our times coming here to answer all these questions."

"You are impertinent."

"Good, because I haven't done being impertinent yet. My tutors said that it was one of the only things that I was good at as a child as the Duchess will attest herself."

The Duchess did not react to that although Sir Morgan's face did redden slightly.

"Further to that," Syanna went on, "and returning to your original question. The Knights Francesca would be glad of any help that might be offered. We have never made a secret of the fact. And our ranks have been swollen by many fine, noble and experienced Knights that wanted to serve Toussaint as we do and as they have done in the past. That offer is still open and if any man, or woman, wants to present themselves at the Chapterhouse of the Knights and present themselves for selection, we would be more than happy to make use of them.

"What I will not allow, is for people to join our efforts for the furthering of their own names, their own purses and the glory of their houses. We serve Toussaint. If you wish to help then we will welcome that help gladly. What I will not do is to allow a return to the ways that proved so catastrophic in previous circumstances."

You, dear reader, will note the jokes in an effort to keep the tone of the entire confrontation relatively light. You might also note Sir Morgan's efforts to bring up Syanna's past in an effort to undermine her.

Now, onto something about me.

"I find that I am surprised by the presence of Lord Frederick." Sir Raoul spoke up. For the most part, Sir Raoul had been relatively quiet, stood to the side of the courtroom and watched things. He seemed to be enjoying the entire process. As an outsider looking in and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. I would have agreed with him on that count. It was certainly very ridiculous but I would have avoided the slightly mocking sneer that he levelled at us all without prejudice.

Courtly proceedings are always ridiculous. No matter where you go, they are boring, stupid, painfully slow, often unintentionally funny, sometimes mortifyingly embarrassing, terrifying and inane. But here's the thing. They are also, often, necessary and everyone involved is well aware of this. But these are the rooms that decisions and announcements are made that will change the face of the continent. Such rooms can become addictive if you are not careful and the desire to get back to it can become compelling.

So don't mock it. Ever. Things will not end well for you.

"I find that I am surprised by the presence of Lord Frederick." Sir Raoul said into one of the brief lulls in the middle of all the posturing. "Lord Frederick and I have crossed swords, even if one sword was a spear and the exercise was performed for the entertainment of the thing rather than for the blood. This means that I feel a certain… brotherly concern for his well-being. If he is regularly having incidents where he becomes weak and needs to retreat to a place of security and safety, which is entirely understandable. Then how can you justify taking him from such a place?"

"Lord Frederick's knowledge and experience have been invaluable in dealing with the problem that we have found. As have the experiences of his friend and companion, Witcher Kerrass." Syanna responded.

Raoul's smirk and sneer widened. (Yes, it is indeed possible to do both at the same time.) Syanna had made a mistake somewhere.

"I have to wonder…" Sir Raoul went on, drawing the words out with relish. "Why Lord Frederick's advice was needed at all. Toussaint problems should be dealt with by people of Toussaint. Why are you engaging the aid of an outsider in work that should be done by ourselves. Especially a guest as esteemed as Lord Frederick. And a man as ill as that same. Surely you would have done better to keep him, and his family, safe."

Syanna took a deep breath. I presumed to calm herself, or at the very least, to pretend to be calming herself.

"Lord Frederick's knowledge and aid is almost unique in this particular field. There is only one other person who can claim to even approach Lord Frederick's level of knowledge on the subject and that person is not currently in Toussaint."

This too was a mistake on Syanna's part. Not a big one and it's not the kind of mistake that could easily be avoided.

"Then why was Lord Frederick not consulted immediately." Lord Tratamara demanded. The poor man was obviously on the edges of guilt and grief associated with exhaustion. That his son had allowed him to come to court at all was a small miracle. "Or rather, why did Lord Frederick not immediately offer his help. My daughter is dead and if you could have prevented it sir…" The tears running down his face were particularly poignant.

I shuddered on cue. "As I said last night sir," I tried. "I am sorry for our loss. But there were things that were beyond my control and…"

"You bandy excuses." He sneered, his mood bouncing from grief to rage just as quickly. "But the fact remains that you could have been aiding us sooner and that if you had done so, then my daughter might still be with me. How do you answer for that sir?"

"I am sorry for your…"

"Damn your sorry sir. Damn your sorry. Why did you not…"

"Lord Frederick is beyond reproach in that matter." It was one of the only times that the Duchess spoke up during the entire situation. "I stand surety for his dispatch and his innocence of any wrongdoing. If you would be angry at him for this matter then be angry at me. My champion will await your pleasure."

Her voice was cold for a moment before her face, and voice softened. "We share your grief Lord Tratamara and we applaud your presence at these proceedings. But your rage should be aimed at whatever it was that took your daughter away from you. We share that rage, both for your daughter's sake, for your sake and for the sake of all the other mothers and fathers that have lost someone over the last few days. In seeking something else to throw your rage at, you do both yourself, and Lord Frederick here, a disservice."

Lord Tratamara was finally led away by his son.

I saw Sir Raoul looking smug at that.

That was an interesting series of exchanges. I remember wanting to blame Sir Raoul there and then. I desperately wanted to think that he might be involved but I was fighting my internal prejudices. I wanted it to be him, therefore I was working really hard to consider alternative suspects.

Speaking of other suspects. There was another suspect that had very little to say on the matter. Sir Gregoire stepped forward, the other courtiers scrambling over each other to get out of his way. He was dressed, armed and armoured, almost exactly the same way as how he had come to the feast all that time ago. It felt like years ago now that there had been a feast to celebrate our arrival in Toussaint. A combination of armour and clothing that suggested that he was caught between two worlds. And for all I know, he was caught between two worlds.

"I have not come here." He rumbled, sounding a little bored and frustrated, which he probably was. Say what you like about Sir Gregoire, but he didn't often bother trying to hide what he was thinking.

"I did not come here to make personal attacks on your person Knight Commander." He began. "Unlike some people that we can mention." The crowd shivered as his gaze swept over them. "But rather, I came here to ask what you have done to catch the killer. My understanding was that this was why this session of court was called in the first place, not to throw around baseless accusations and insults."

Syanna waited until he had stopped speaking before answering. "I am not at liberty to answer that question. I will not comment on the particulars of an investigation that is still ongoing."

He didn't look particularly surprised.

"How dare you?" Sir Morgan all but screeched it. I might be being unfair about Sir Morgan, but I don't think so. The more and more that I watched him and listened to him while he worked, the more and more I became convinced that he was the last of a dying breed. I began to think of him as the last of the true Knights Errant. Most had moved on to join with the Knights Francesca. Still more had retired to being landowners, merchants and noblemen. Others had kept the title out of greed or refusal to live any other way. Sir Morgan was still being a Knight Errant because he could not see any other way to live. And with every day that passed, he was having more and more of that taken away from him.

"You have been summoned here to make an account of yourself." Sir Morgan all but bellowed in Syanna's face. "The honourable gentleman…" A few voices laughed and I was lucky enough to be looking directly into Sir Gregoire's face as they did so. His response was really interesting. His eyes hooded for just a moment with some emotion that I could not immediately recognise. Shortly before he turned and started looking for the people that laughed. Needless to say that the laughter vanished almost immediately.

"... asked a perfectly legitimate question. And you will answer. Why measures have you taken to guard against future attacks by this… so called "Jack"."

"It is a legitimate question." Syanna agreed. "But I am still not going to answer it."

"May I ask why not?" Sir Gregoire jumped in with just a colour of being tired of the whole proceedings. There was a fatigue in his voice and his posture that I found eloquent. He seemed resigned and, I thought at the time, a little bit sad.

"It is our policy not to discuss ongoing investigations." Syanna said.

"Why?"

"I'm not going to answer that either." Syanna said

Sir Morgan looked as though his head was going to explode.

"I see," Sir Gregoire rumbled, cutting him off. "It is a matter of confidentiality."

"That is a good answer." Syanna said. "I will take that."

Gregoire nodded and moved towards the back of the crowd.

I thought that that display was interesting which is why I included it here. I was beginning to think that if Gregoire had been born anywhere else on the continent and found himself knighted into the nobility, then he would have been made someone's guardsman really quickly. He would have been found duties somewhere and would have represented this noble family, or that noble family and he would have ended up being famous and beloved. He would be like a prize fighter, where when this man takes the field, then men chant his name.

But he had been born in Toussaint. And because he was a bastard born as well as his size, shape and lack of refinement in his manners and fighting style, he had been cast as the villain in the ongoing drama that made up the Toussaint jousting circles.

And after so many years of being told that you are the villain, then sooner or later, you are going to begin to believe that you are a villain. Not long after that, then you are going to start acting like a villain.

I felt sorry for him.

He was a man in need of something to do, and no-one wanted to tell him what it was that he needed to do. Probably because they were afraid of the repercussions in case his actions reflected on them.

The subject of discussion turned over to the matter of Jack. Some might say that this change was inevitable, and for all I know, it might be, but at the same time, it was not a pleasant part of things that I was looking forward to. Especially as I had to stay quiet.

There is nothing quite as annoying or frustrating than being a continent wide expert on a subject and then not being able to show off.

But I was well aware that if I started showing off, then there was a good chance that I would not stop and that the secret that we were not actually dealing with Jack would be out of the bag and a lot of the effort would be done for.

"What I would like to know." Sir Alain drawled. "Is about this Jack situation." I already knew that he could be a slimy little toad if he put his mind to it, but never have I needed a bath after speaking to a person quite as much as I did in that moment.

"We know that Jack is a formidable opponent. Even allowing for the mistakes that were made by everyone involved, including Lord Frederick and Witcher Kerrass the night of the Fish-Market massacre," I was dismayed by the murmering agreement that seemed to be meeting that statement. "Even despite this, Jack is known to be a formidable foe. So my first question is this, do you know that this is indeed Jack that we are dealing with, and if it is then why haven't you asked for more help? Your own little selection of Knights would be hard pressed to deal with such a monster as that."

He shuddered theatrically.

"As I said before," Syanna replied. "We are more than happy to accept all the help that is offered. But what we will not accept is half-baked plans and men, or Knights, rushing off to take matters of the law into their own hands. This requires work, Long, hard, boring work.

"As to the other matter that you allude to, we are pursuing all enquiries and speaking to anyone who is known to have seen the assailant or if they have any other information that might be helpful to us. Otherwise, as I said before, we are currently pursuing all possible avenues of investigation."

But Alain would not let this go. Over and over again, he brought the subject back to the topic of Jack.

"Lord Frederick, you are known to be an expert on these matters, surely you have an opinion on whether or not Jack has returned to terrorise our fair country again. Do you have any thoughts?"

"I have many thoughts." I told him. "And I have had many theories. These thoughts and theories have been passed to the Knight Commander and I am at her disposal for any reason that she might require me."

"Very noble I am sure." He very nearly sneered. "But is it Jack? That is the root of the question, is it not."

"As I say, I have passed everything that I know over to the Knight Commander."

"And what is that?"

"What is what?"

He refused to be drawn into the childish traps.

"Lord Frederick," He sighed as though some long suffering elder talking to a child that is frighteningly stupid. "May I remind you that you are a guest here…"

"I had not forgotten," I interrupted, perhaps unwisely.

"And as such, you are required to offer all your aid to the realm that is needed."

"I am." I grinned at him. Play courtroom lawyer with me will you? Fucko. "However, I am supposed to render all aid to the properly appointed legal authorities. In this case, the proper authorities are the Duchess herself and Knight Commander Syanna of the Knights that have taken my sister's name. After that, such matters are confidential."

"Has she ordered you to say nothing?" He demanded, seeking to change the target of his displeasure onto Syanna.

"I have," She admitted, taking the rage onto herself.

"Also," I saw an opportunity to go for the tension lessening comment. "I don't want to give too much away, otherwise, no-one will have any need to buy my book. And my publisher will be furious with me."

"This is hardly a laughing matter Lord Frederick."

"I have discovered in my time of travelling with a Witcher that everything is a laughing matter." I told him. "Especially jumped up little idiots who interfere with the professionals that are trying to do their job, Interfering and interrupting by asking stupid questions over and over and over again. Questions that they know that we aren't going to answer, but they ask the questions anyway. I have found that you either need to laugh or cry."

"You mock me sir?" He demanded. I rather thought I could hear a hunger, relish and a sense of triumph behind the outrage in his voice.

"Not at all." I responded. "If you were listening carefully, I was speaking of hypothetical people that have wound Kerrass and I up in the past. Why? Do you see yourself in the words that I have spoken?"

Was I unwise to provoke him? Maybe, but the arrogant little prick needed to be taken down a peg or two. When that happens and you find yourself as the man of the moment, then you take what opportunities you can get.

Lord Velles spoke up later in the afternoon. He gave off the air of a man who was quietly and patiently waiting his turn to speak, but would not let go of the right to do so. As though he was some kind of long suffering martyr that we could not possibly understand.

Although I had, originally, liked Lord Velles as a merchant and a former soldier, I had since found that that was something of an affectation. A persona that he had put on when dealing with Sam. Now that he was out of having to convince my brother to give him the trading monopoly on this or that, then he had become a man of the court. Witty, urbane, educated and charming. I found this change to be utterly false and I was liking the man less and less.

I was also sure that he hadn't served at the line at all. I was confident that there was some military action in his past. There was something about the way that he moved around that spoke of him being used to wear armour. Proper armour too, not the kind of thing that can happen on merchant's wagons or anything that a regular merchant might wear. Nor did he move with the attitude of a man who wore armour because it was trendy. He had fought in armour, lived and breathed and eaten and gone to the Jacks in armour. He had probably even slept in armour.

Yes, it can be done. But only in extreme circumstances and I would advise to do it for short periods at a time only. Even leather armour can leave you waking up to feel stiff, smelly and ungainly. Armour is not supposed to be slept in.

But he seemed to have these personas that he had crafted from out of his own head. Personas that he could take on depending on who he was talking to at any given time. He had been the Knight and the soldier to Sam, the ironic, funny and learned man of the world to me. But now he was among courtiers and he was… well, as I say, he was urbane, charming, educated and witty.

I wondered if he did it on purpose. If he had sat around the camp-fire at various times and figured out who he needed to be in various situations. Or, possibly more frightening, did it come easy and natural to him.

I wondered which was his real face and his real personality.

But then I had a much scarier thought. Is this how Emma lives? I have no idea and I have not, since, dared to ask her.

"I want to discuss matters of trade." He said calmly as though we were all doing him a favour by listening to him. That talking about this kind of thing was an unpleasant job but that someone had to do it. "Last night, a man by the name of Bernhard Gunthersson from Kaedwen was trading his goods, or rather he was trying to trade his goods. His route brings things down from Kaedwen, through Aedirn, the twin kingdoms of Lyria & Rivia and eventually to Toussaint for the winter. THis is where he spends his winters while the passes are closed because he finds that the climate here agrees with his health."

There was some murmuring, some of agreement, but also some of boredom.

"Bernhard is a good friend of mine, he owns a small residence on the outside of town which he rents out during the summer months and until recent events, he would have believed himself to have friends in Toussaint. Indeed, he vouchsafed to me that he considers himself more a man of Toussaint than of Kaedwen now, or at least he did until the night before last.

"My friend Bernhard was travelling down the road leading to the Cockatrice, he had some samples of some of the Northern Meats and cheeses with him which, although certain members of this hallowed chamber might disagree, are among the finest cured cheeses and meats that the continent could see. He was wanting to secure an order with the owner of the Cockatrice before renting a room and carrying on his way, filling his order books before beginning his journey to return to the North and his suppliers."

If I can say nothing else about Lord Velles, he is a gifted speaker and story teller.

"As he was riding along he was, obviously, wrapped for the cold air and as he rode, openly, with a lit lantern to find his way, a group of bandits jumped out from behind some trees and accosted my friend. They dragged him from his horse, beat him within an inch of his life and then hung him from one of the nearby trees. The only reason that he survived at all was that the branch was not sturdy enough to support his weight. Indeed, he was lucky that it supported him long enough for the bandits to flee with his money pouch, leaving the actual valuable goods behind. But not long enough that the extended hanging would kill him.

"Even then, the cold might have killed him at that time of the night and it was only by chance that a local Shepherd had heard the cries for help and had summoned the courage to go to Bernhard's aid."

There was some rumbling.

"Bernhard will eventually be fine. He is currently resting under the care of a professional Doctor that he has been able to hire. He has a lot to recover from. One of his legs broke with the fall from the tree, rope burns around his neck, broken jaw, several shattered teeth, broken cheek bone, several cracked ribs, numerous small and large cuts about his person, blood loss, exposure and some kind of head injury which means that he can't stand up straight for long without vomiting.

"He will be bed-ridden for some weeks to come and his business may never recover. Certainly, Bernhard is unlikely to want to come back to Toussaint."

"Get on with it." Someone shouted. "Make your point," Another voice said.

The military man came forward from Velles again and he raised his voice over the dissenting voices. "Whether the members of this court like it or not, Toussaint runs on commerce. The lifeblood of this nation is not it's wine, nor is it it's people or it's Knights. People cannot eat fine deeds, honour or Glory. Your primary wealth comes from wine but that wealth is used to buy food and import it from elsewhere. You have some crops other than grapes, it is true, but there are no fields of wheat as far as the eye can see, so that must be imported. The reason you can all live the lives that you lead is due to the trade that men like Bernhard bring here."

"It is now I who wish you to get to the point Lord Velles." The Duchess called from her throne.

"My point, Your Grace, is that earlier I called these people bandits. They called themselves something else. They called themselves the Vigilance Committee of Toussaint. They were out seeking the killer because they had little faith that you would be able to do the same. What, may I ask, are the Knights of Saint Francesca doing about these people."

Syanna, although she might have handled other things badly, handled this brilliantly.

"I thank the honoured gentleman for reminding me of this problem." She said. "The incident is well known to me and if you will permit me a moment to refresh myself on the details."

She rooted around in one of the pouches at her side and produced one of many pieces of paper.

"You missed out a number of details from your account. Lord Gunther of Kaedwen had been advised not to travel at night by the Knight that was patrolling the area near where he was staying the previous night, but Lord Gunther insisted that he would be fine. Indeed, he was warned of this very risk. That shepherd who took him in did exactly the right thing and he, rightly, deserves the praise. The Shepherd gave Lord Gunther to the care of his mother before rushing off to find a Knight and pass on the story. The Knight sent a Doctor and rode for the Cockatrice where the party that had lynched Lord Gunther were celebrating their Knights work with a few flagons, paid for by Lord Gunther's purse. They were then arrested and placed under guard. Some of them had already returned home and we have since picked up two of those three and the third is hiding out in the woods. He will not last long before cold and hunger will force him to return to civilization. These men await the punishment properly due their crimes.

"In the meantime, your point that these five dead women are not the only victims of what is happening in the countryside at the moment is well made. Nor are they the only crimes going on in Toussaint. Last night alone, Eugenie the potter's wife finally snapped after years of abuse and killed her husband with a heavy swing of a frying pan. It took her two swings to do the job properly and as he lay there, bleeding into the rushes of her home, she clutched the son who her husband had been beating with a switch to her chest and told her son that he could hurt neither of them any more.

"Jean the Miller was out walking with one of Lord Kressick's chambermaids. He had hopes that she would accept his offer of marriage as he had already asked her father's permission to pay court. He had started his campaign on the girl's heart with the traditional bunch of wild-flowers. This until one of Lord Kressick's footmen, jealous of the chambermaid's attentions not being on him, found the young couple and beat his rival with a fire poker.

"Last night alone, as well as Lady de Launfal's death, there was another murder. Four beatings with implements, two women were assaulted, there were a number of tavern brawls that Captain de la Tour's people had to break up. A bandit attack, on a group of travelling circus performers. Eight robberies and attempted kidnapping. All of which were pursued and addressed by my Knights and those matters that are not yet resolved will be done so shortly.

"Yet you choose this time to remove me from the field and haul me over the coals for my handling of this one thing."

She shook her head.

"Who has the next question."

It just went on and on. I found myself wondering, increasingly, as to why either Syanna or the Duchess allowed it all to keep going. Leaving aside the colossal waste of time that all of this was causing, there was also the factor that if this was telling anything new about any potential killers, then we had learned what we needed to learn a long time ago. The attacks at Syanna were personal, vindictive and petulant. Even while they were also stupid, ill-informed and whiny.

"I think that there is an aspect for this tragedy that hasn't been addressed yet." Sir Alain spoke up. Not the first time that he had done so but it was the first time that he had said anything of his own accord and had more than a couple of things to say. "We are dancing around this possibility, we are ignoring the fact that Lord Frederick is involved in the investigation. We all know why that might be the case and we all know what the people are afraid of. Like it or not."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"No-one else seems to want to ask the question so I will do it for you all. Is this killer Jack?"

The court rumbled as was properly portentous for the question.

"All avenues of investigation are being pursued." Syanna said without allowing herself to be drawn.

"This is a simple question." Alain pursued. "Is it Jack or isn't it?"

"As I say, all avenues…"

"Yes yes, we heard you the first time, but let me, instead, ask you this. What is there to investigate? It is either Jack or it isn't Jack. The killer is either supernatural or isn't supernatural. If the killer is not supernatural then I agree, confidentiality is vital as anyone could be a suspect, but if he is not. If he's a man possessed, just as he was last time, then we have an entirely new problem.

"I, like many here, have read the accounts of what happened the night that Laughing Jack was captured, the night where the flower of Chivalry was crushed beneath Jack's heel. Not on a battlefield as those men deserved, but at a common fishmarket of all places. After reading that, I did my own research on the Jack figure, reading Lord Frederick's accounts, it seems clear that the current killings all fit the pattern.

"Several deaths, a theme between the deaths. A swordsman of frightening talent, a grim sense of humour, and a sense of honour accordingly. So is it Jack or isn't it?

He paused for effect.

"You don't need to answer the question. I know what you are going to say. You will, once again, tell us that all avenues of investigation are being pursued. But my question is this. It's either Jack or it isn't. If it isn't Jack, then why are you taking so long to find the killer? If it is Jack? Then why haven't you mustered every sword, every bow and every Knight that you can lay your hands on?

"Should we prepare for that possibility? Those of us with the arms and the means to use them, must we be prepared that, possibly before too much longer, you will blow your horn and we must go forth to face such a monster? Even the most trivial military mind knows that such things need preparation and time.

"So is it Jack or not?"

Syanna didn't answer. Of course she didn't. After Alain's little speech, which I rather thought had been written for him by someone, the crowd erupted into questions and demands to know the truth. Syanna sighed and did her best to ignore it. But she struggled. Of course she struggled. Anyone would struggle under that kind of onslaught. But she kept her cool and refused to be drawn out. And later when someone called her on the fact that she hadn't answered any of the questions during this particular period of questioning, she pointed out that she had struggled to hear and distinguish one voice from among all the others and politely asked that people ask their questions one at a time.

After Alain's play which, although I don't necessarily think that his speech was written by himself, I do have to acknowledge that he played the part of concerned citizen and battle ready Knight with grace and success. Things started to come to a head. The mood of the courtroom started to shift.

I have spoken, many times it seems, on my schooling on the art of being a courtier. And it is an art. Some of it can be learned and if you practise enough then you can become good at it. Some people have the talent for it and my tutor said of me that although I have a little talent, I did not have the heart of a true politician and courtier.

He didn't say that. He said that I had too much heart to be a proper courtier.

But he said that there comes a moment in a courtroom when things are going to come to a head. When the head of that courtroom is about to make a decision, or a declaration. Things are about to start happening and one of the many aspects of making your living as a courtier is to be able to spot these times as they start to happen.

He said watch for those people that leave. Whether through fear that they might lose the exchange, disgust at the process, or because they have no desire to see the final parts of things.

He told me to watch the people on the edges of the room. The wall-flowers. The men and women that lean against walls, pillars and tables, nursing a goblet or a small plate of food. Watch them and when they carefully set aside their plates or their goblets, that is the time that it is happening.

Watch who pushes their way to the front of the crowd. Watch who stands next to them and note who is making the speech when the mood shifts.

Watch for the moment when the head of the court moves past interest, gets through the boredom and starts to look angry. When the one person in the courtroom, be they Emperor, King or minor noble, the one one person who has nothing to fear of what is going to happen in the coming moments. When that person starts looking at the exits with a strange kind of longing. As though they already know what they're going to do. They know what decision is going to be made. That they've heard enough and that everything else is just noise.

"Watch for all these things." He told me. "Because these are the moments when history happens."

History didn't really happen in that courtroom that day. The conclusion was predictable, even boring. No new information was given, no summons, no call to arms.

But I watched, as I had been trained to do.

Sir Gregoire left with an air of resigned disgust.

Sir Raoul passed his small goblet of wine to a passing servant.

Lord Velles was the man that was speaking as the mood began to shift.

And it was Sir Morgan the black hand who moved to the front of the crowd.

The Duchess stopped examining her fingernails in the minutest detail and her face seemed to harden into the marble that will, undoubtedly, preserve her likeness for centuries to come.

"I want to talk about you Knight Commander." Sir Morgan said.

"Me, Sir Morgan?" Syanna's response could have cut steel.

"Indeed."

If that exchange had happened in some kind of bar-room then there would have been a moment where people pulled apart between Syanna and Sir Morgan. There would have been an avenue between them so that when the fight started, people could cheer, restrain, wince and take bets.

"Indeed, I want to call into question your suitability."

"Oh that old chestnut."

"Ah, but your recent actions have thrown "that old chestnut" into stark relief. What are you Madam?"

"I am not entirely sure. However I know that I am not a Madam, either by profession or by title as I am not married."

It had the feeling of an old joke that had been tread and retread again, over and over again in fact.

"I, too, know what you are not. You command an order of Knights but you are not a Knight yourself."

"And if you wish to bring out those old arguments again, same as you did last time you tried to assassinate me in the political arena, then I shall bring up the same counters. Change needed to happen…"

"Yes. I remember the cut and parry, same as you do. You will argue, not entirely incorrectly, that change needed to happen. Indeed, that change was forced on us by foreign powers…"

"Careful Sir Morgan." Syanna's voice was hard. "We are part of the Nilfgaardian Empire whether we all like it or not. If we honestly tried to argue with the Empress then not only would they roll over us without noticing but Toussaint would no longer exist. I hardly think that the Empress counts as foreign."

There was some shifting in the crowd. There was a general feeling that Syanna had won a point.

"Change was necessary." Sir Morgan said. "But why you? You are not a Knight. You are not even a soldier. You have only spent a fraction of your life in Toussaint and when you did return, you did your best to kill vast swathes of our people including some of our most renowned Knights."

"You know the answer to that question. Same as I do." Syanna fired back. "Yes I am an outsider. But because of that, I love Toussaint all the more. The blood of Toussaint is in my veins. I love Toussaint. I adore it. I live and breathe it."

"Yet you killed so many of it's citizens."

"No." Syanna said. "No, I did not."

"Oh, come now. Your…"

"No." Syanna's voice rose. "I will admit to responsibility for some of it. I will admit that I used an assassin to kill those Knights. Men who had beaten me, raped me even though I understand that many had changes of heart in later life and became exemplars of their oaths. I will also admit that my childhood hatred matured into unreasoning madness. But I did not kill those people. I tried to go to Detlaff to explain, even though I knew it might have meant my death.

"I will admit guilt. But my mistake was to involve the Vampire in the first place. I even, specifically, told him not to harm anyone else in the instructions that he was sent. I could not have known what he did.

"But this too, is an old argument. Sooner or later it will be agreed that there are many people to blame for the tragedy that unfolded that night. Good men and women refused to give the Vampire what he wanted,"

"Including me." The Duchess intoned from her throne.

"I should have known what would have happened to Detlaff after it was found out. If our parents had not decided that they only wanted one daughter to help inherit the throne and decided to get rid of me as I was inconvenient. It keeps going back and going back."

"But what…"

"I know what you are going to say." Syanna interrupted. You are going to wonder why the Knights of Francesca were entrusted to me when I am not a Knight. What experience do I have in Knighthood? I will respond to that that I have none, except that I have seen the worst of what Knighthood has to offer and so I do, at least, know about how to prevent that.

"You will say, "yes but why me?" To which the answer will always be the same. No matter how many times you, or anyone else here asks it. The Duchess asked for help in forming the new order and when others stepped forward, everyone said the same. "We need more honour, more chivalry, better arms and armour. More selective, reserved only for the fittest and the finest." Then my sister would say words, much more flowery words to be sure, but words to the effect of "That's wonderful, but how do we do all of that and the only person that gave her a response other than "Knights Errant only more Erranty" was me.

"You will then move onto my lack of investigative experience. I will respond that I have worked under the tutelage of Colonel Duberton and the 4th who make their living out of this kind of work. I would say that I have many experienced Knights that put aside their misgivings, joined the Knights Francesca and are now teaching what they know. I would say that Captain De La Tour, as good and fine a man and Knight as I have the honour to know, works with me closely and his men and mine work together regularly and often.

"You will then throw my lack of military experience in my face. I will tell you that I led a bandit, mercenary company for many years before their destruction at the hands of Damien and Geralt. You will seek to use the stigma that is commonly attached to that profession. Often with good reason I will admit. I will say that experience is experience and that I have more battlefield experience than many here. Including you Sir Morgan. I would also argue that, again, I have many good and noble men and women under my command that can make up for any of my shortcomings."

She finished up, seeming a little out of breath.

"You and I have been through this before." She said. "In fact, you and I, and many others here have been over this and over this and over this until we are growing bored of it. Sing a different tune."

"Ah, but I have a different tune now. Or rather I have an extra verse to the song."

"Oh? I am positively moist with excitement." Syanna replied.

The court shuddered with the naked scorn in Syanna's voice. Sir Morgan simply smirked, obviously well used to Syanna's barbs and… I'm gonna call it a "way" with words.

"Excitement might be the wrong word. My question is this. "Why haven't you caught this killer yet?"

"There are a number of reasons." Syanna retorted. "Not least because I have just wasted this afternoon and early evening standing here and answering questions rather than being out there and working on finding the answers that we all want."

"You are being glib and dismissive and it does neither you, the Duchess, nor the Knights that you lead, a service to speak in this manner."

Syanna reddened. This time the court murmured as though Sir Morgan had won a point.

"The basis of my question is obvious to everyone." Morgan went on. "There have been five deaths now. Five women have been slaughtered in the most cruel and off handed way. Do you know why?"

"Our enquiries are ongoing." She said.

"Ah yes, hiding behind the shield of the incompetent. Then let us try another one. Do you know how? When? When will the killer strike next other than in the nebulous terms of… He kills every night. Do you even have a suspect?"

Syanna waited until he had stopped talking. "Our enquiries are ongoing."

"Yes. I am sure they are. But why are they still ongoing, that is my point. You are correct in everything that you say. You had the ideas about how change might have been brought about. You took charge when no-one else would. You were not so arrogant to believe that you had nothing to learn and you managed to surround yourself with the best minds in that field of work that could easily be found.

"Yet you still haven't found this killer. Why?"

Syanna opened her mouth to respond to that.

"Could it be because you are keeping all the glory for yourself. Could it be that you are not so much better than the rest of us after all and further to that. Could it be that you are simply out of your depth. After all, you have only just taken over the protection of Toussaint and already there is a serial killer on the loose that you cannot seem to catch, even with all the resources , powers and gifts that you have at your disposal."

He paused for effect.

"There is only two possibilities here." He eventually decided after realising that Syanna wasn't going to rise to the bait. "The first is that the answer is incompetence. You are simply not up to the task that you have been assigned. The task that you have taken for yourself. The task that you are taking and trying to use for your own honour, glory and eventual redemption. You think you know better than anyone else around. You refuse to listen to those people that you have taken to surrounding yourself with and you insist that you are right and everyone else is wrong. And as you do so, more and more people are getting murdered.

"This is the case. This is the case that makes or breaks you and you know it. You list your other accomplishments and the accomplishments of your Knights. And that is fair, those other men, and women, have done exemplary work. But they have done it without you. Those cases were not enough to get you the fame and glory that you feel that you deserve.

"So here is the case that you wanted. A grand case. A famous case. Against the killer that brought your predecessors in the Knights Errant low."

"I rather think that the incompetence and corruption of some of the Knights Errant brought the order low." Syanna commented to the various hisses of displeasure. Syanna was doing well, but it was clear that the court had turned against her here.

"Yes. But we are not talking about Crawthorne. Here you have a famous case that would make your name. It would cement the names of the Knights of Saint Francesca in the eyes of the world. It is not lost on me that you are dragging around one of the world's most prolific chroniclers. Is that your hope? That you will catch Jack, whoever or whatever he is this time and that Lord Frederick will write down the stories of your excellence. All so men will come to forget the fact that you murdered the citizens of Toussaint."

Syanna's face was stone and you could have heard the proverbial pin drop in the courtroom. Somebody coughed, as someone always does in that situation.

"That is bad enough." Sir Morgan went on, a little quieter. "But I would honestly rather that be the truth, than the other possibility that might be going on here. And that is sabotage. Your hatred of Toussaint is legendary. Your hatred of your sister is likewise. You loathe everything that we represent. Everything that we stand for. Indeed, when you first came here, your goal was to murder, or have killed, the very flower of Toussaint Chivalry before having your monster murder the Duchess herself. Then you would subvert everything and arrange that you would be made the Duchess of Toussaint on your sister's death bed.

"You were stopped. You were prevented. We only have your word for it that you were trying to get to Detlaff that night and that it was your sister's, rightful, imprisonment of you that prevented you from going to your Vampiric lover's side. We only have a Witcher's word for it that Detlaff tried to kill you."

Syanna smirked. "I would be interested to see the results of what would happen if you called Lord Geralt's honesty into question in an open court Sir Morgan."

"But you were caught. If Lord Geralt had not captured you in the first place, would you not have carried out your plan?"

"Probably. But I have answered these questions as well. I was angry. I still believed that my sister had turned her back on me, still believed that she hated me. That forgiveness only began to come about after she worked so hard to keep me about. And I dare say that the two of us still need to work at it. And we do, every day. But that is also, not a new song. You promised me something original."

"But you were caught. Here is the possibility that keeps me awake at night. The possibility that chills my blood and that I see in my nightmares. You failed with that iteration of your plot. So now you have a new one. You waited patiently in captivity. I am as aware as any that your stay in the vineyard was a captivity as much as it was anything else. You waited and you planned.

"Your previous attempt at treason had failed because you had rushed it. Because you had allowed yourself to become impatient and took the things that you had desired since your youth. The things that you felt as though you deserved. You took them and in doing so, you gave yourself away. This time, you decided that you would be patient. You would take your time.

"You waited for an opportunity to leave the vineyard and find a way of gaining some power. Of reforming your public image. You found it in the disgrace of Crawthorne and the Knights Errant. You rushed to court, having been informed by your spies, for I am as confident as anyone that you have agents at court. You rushed to court with a plan as to how to reform the Knights. Possibly having even primed your sister for this plan so that she would support you when you came to make your points. You made your ideas known and you took control.

"Then you bided your time as you took more and more power onto yourself. You learned at the feet of the esteemed Colonel Duberton but I think you took another lesson from him which was how to get away with Murder. You have made no secret of your efforts to seduce Guard Captain Damien De La Tour to your side. And now, when you have finally managed to get everything that you want, you engineer a murder."

Syanna began to smirk.

"A murder so vile." Morgan continued. "And so activating of a primal fear in TOussaint that you are given more resources, more resources and still more resources until it gets to the point where you can do anything you want. Absolutely anything. Until you have almost complete power over the armed forces of Toussaint. After that, all you have to do is to speak to your loyal troops and followers. And then… You finally complete your self appointed mission to destroy Toussaint as we have all known it."

Syanna was now smiling openly.

"You find all of this funny?" Morgan demanded. "You find it funny that I've just accused you of treason."

"To be fair," Syanna responded, "You also accused me of incompetence. So which is it to be. I only have so many hours in the day for plotting."

"This is not a thing to be taken lightly. What other explanations could there be? You have been given every opportunity to perform the tasks that have been allocated to you. Every opportunity to use the resources at your disposal and still, this killer is on the loose. Terrorising our countryside."

"Yes he is." Syanna said. "And instead of being out there and looking for him, I am in here being accused of Treason. You are correct. I dislike Toussaint as it was when I got here and what it was when I was a child. But I love Toussaint. I love Toussaint as it is in the storybooks. I am not so naive as to think that we can go back to that but we CAN get closer to it."

"With you at our head?" Demanded Sir Morgan. "With you on the Ducal throne? I would rather die than to do that."

Syanna laughed. "I don't want the Ducal crown. I have enough paperwork as it is."

There was some small laughter in the room after that. "Are you done?" She demanded. "Or must you insult me even further. I must confess that I would duel you myself for the insults but my life is not my own and my sister would not permit me, even to chastise someone as unworthy as yourself."

"Your own discourtesy is proof that you are not of Toussaint." Morgan snarled. "We are watching Knight Commander. Continued incompetence will not be tolerated. And if incompetence turns into treason then I will put the noose around your neck myself."

"I do not answer to you." Syanna allowed some anger to shine through. "I serve the Duchess."

"And the Duchess answers to her people."

"Does she?" The Duchess herself had finally had enough. "Does she really?" She stepped down from the throne. "It is true that I serve the people of Toussaint but I recall no rule that says that I answer to the court or to anyone else for that matter. The only reason that I answer to the Imperial throne is due to a courtesy that I pay them."

(Freddie's note:Actually true and I was as surprised as you are. Toussaint was never formally invaded by Nilfgaard. Nor was it formally annexed and assimilated into the Empire. There was originally no oath of fealty, no treaty signed; it was just a case that one day, the then Duke of Toussaint started to refer to the then Emperor as "Cousin" and the Golden sun flew over the towers of Beauclair. And that was that. Obviously in a modern world, everyone is aware that Nilfgaard could roll over Toussaint if it wanted to. Just as everyone is aware that the people of Toussaint would destroy everything of worth, including sewing the Vineyard soil with salt if anyone did. But that is still true. Toussaint is part of Nilfgaard because it chooses to be. Not because it was forced to be by economic sanctions or invasion. The things you learn when you have a few days of nothing to do while also having access to the Ducal library.)

"My sister is correct," the Duchess went on. "The reason that she holds the post that she does is because she was the only one of you, the only one who actually tried to come up with anything different when it became clear that the Knights Errant had betrayed everything that they stood for."

The court hissed.

"Yes." The Duchess hissed. "I group you all together. The Knights Errant betrayed everything they stood for. They betrayed me and they betrayed Toussaint. Crawthorne was bad enough. But the rest of you were worse. Why were you worse? Because you knew there was a problem and you did nothing about it. You did not try to correct the rot because you all profited from it. When you realised what kind of man Crawthorne was you did nothing to bring his horrors to our attention because the same system that produced you was the same system that produced him. And if he was corrupt, then what did it say about you.

"He, at least, had the courage of his convictions. He thought he was right. Those former Knights Errant that went off and joined the Knights Francesca are also to be lauded. They saw the problems and took the steps to try something else. But the rest of you, all you desire is a return to the state of corruption that existed before. Where your strength of arms and weight of your coin purse is enough to make you a Knight.

"I won't have it gentlemen. I won't. I am an oathbreaker because of what was done. I swore that the Empress and her entourage were safe and they clearly were not. And so long as I live, then the Knights of Toussaint will NOT fall backwards into those old ways."

She went to sit down before she realised something and stood back up. "Oh, and before any of you get any ideas. I would point out that I have already named my air and had it legally bound. My heir shares my views on the matter and will not permit this fault to return. And I understand that they also have an heir should anything happen to them. So you will have to raise up an army against me to return us to those old ways. Would you betray your Duchess? Would you betray Toussaint?"

There was a chorus of dutiful negative sounds. I noticed that Morgan looked defiant where Raoul, of all people, looked thoughtful.

"Excellent." The Duchess sat back down. "Now, as to the matter at hand which is concerning, again, my sister's competence and trustworthiness to be able to perform the role that she has been assigned. I share her weariness with this topic of conversation and I would hope this to be the end of it. Even though I know that even had she delivered the head of Jack to my feet then there would still be people in this assembly who would wonder why it wasn't done all the sooner.

"First of all, regarding her competence. She was trained, and assessed by the finest that the Imperial service has to offer in the figure of Colonel Duberton of the 4th. I see that he has joined us here along with his wife, the lovely Lady Duberton.

"Sir." She addressed him. "First allow me to apologise to you and your wife for having to sit through this tedious topic of conversation again. Secondly, I apologise for the suggestion that your training of my sister was not up to the required standard."

I saw more than a few raised eyebrows. But to be fair, she was right. If Syanna's competence was called into question, then the person at fault was the man who had taught her what to do. Therefore, questioning his capabilities. Quite a clever ploy from the Duchess as throwing out the possibility that people had insulted quite so gifted a swordsman would have made a few people nervous. Naturally, I would expect nothing less from the head of the Ducal court, but I do think she needed to be a little less subtle as more than one expression in the court looked confused.

The Colonel himself did not seem to react except for a glint in his eye that suggested that he knew exactly what the Duchess was doing. He bowed formally before the Duchess.

"But," The Duchess continued, "Just for those people who seem to have forgotten everything that has happened and everything that you have said in the past. Would you mind repeating your assessment of my sister and her capabilities when it comes to commanding the Knights of Saint Francesca."

"Gladly Your Grace." He spoke with only a hint of a Southern accent. "Knight Commander Syanna spent almost the entire year that I have been in command of the defence and peacekeeping efforts of the Duchy of Toussaint. In the different areas that such duties require I have assessed her thusly."

The report had a military feel to it and I wondered if he was making a point on some level.

"Strategically: Syanna has a good grasp of communication with the public on matters regarding peace-keeping and other military manners. She also knows about how to shift her people from one footing to the next, moving from a peaceful line of enforcement to a more definitive, aggressive posture. She knows the difference between occupation and conquering and knows all the best strategies for taking a place and making it her own. She also has considerable book learned skills.

"Tactically: I have seen her plans for the defence of the Chapter House of the Knights that she commands and I would judge those defences to be formidable, even though the buildings themselves are not built to withstand a siege, I would guess that many men would be lost during the assault. Other than that, she has demonstrated considerable skill in small unit tactics, specifically in the taking and arresting of criminal groups, isolating and capturing people in public with innocents nearby and, again, her plans for a significant network of watch-towers and fortifications to defend Toussaint should the Duchy be attacked were drawn with some skill. Alas, I could not test her on large scale tactics although I would say that according to those games that we were able to play, her tactics would be simple, effective and solid, if a little conventional. Sign that her tactics were learned from historical accounts of battles, rather than formulating her own plans.

"The Hunt: By which I mean the pursuit of fleeing criminals or bandit groups. Again, her expertise and knowledge in this area is exemplary. She has even been able to teach some of my own officers some tricks that will help us to find other bandits in the future. She does not hide from the fact that this is, at least partially, down to the fact that she has spent a certain amount of her time as a bandit herself."

"Precisely." Sir Morgan interrupted. "That is exactly the point. She was a bandit and a smuggler, how can she possibly…"

"A bandit and a smuggler because I had no other way of surviving after four Knights Errant dumped me in a field with nothing but my…"

"Enough." The Duchess fairly screeched it before waiting for silence. "These are old arguments and we have had them out before. You were saying Colonel."

"Thank you Your Grace.

"Detective work: This is one of her weakest areas. She has a tendency towards temper which she knows to be a family trait. This makes her subject to passions, temper and humour that are detrimental to the true art of the Detective. There is no doubt that she is highly intelligent and when she remains calm, then she is capable of the intuitive leaps but otherwise, she is better off delegating, or working with other people as she thinks aloud and needs to bounce ideas off other people.

"Training of subordinates: She is well aware of her own capabilities, or rather lack thereof, for the performance of this task. She lacks the patience of a true teacher and as such she has found the best teachers that she can lay her hands on and is training her subordinates well. I myself would be proud to serve alongside those Knights that will have spent the entirety of their training under her care.

"Leadership: She uses an informal style with her veterans with the occasional bursts of sudden formality. In doing so she cultivates a reputation for unpredictability. I believe this to be a direct response to her time in the bandit camps and a learned survival trait. Otherwise, she is harsh to younger subordinates which, correctly, means that they want to prove themselves to her. Like her Tactical and Strategic knowledge, these tricks are directly out of the basic military textbooks. Simple? Yes. But there is a reason why they are considered classics and are still used to this day.

"Overall: If she can learn to keep her temper and delegate properly and where required, then she will be a formidable commander of men and do her Duchy proud."

"Thank you Colonel. Can you assess her performance so far?"

"She has continued the standards to which I expected of her."

"Five women have died." Sir Morgan objected.

Colonel Duberton frowned. "Versus how many saved. I too have read the reports and the accounts of Lord Geralt's arrival in Toussaint. About the bandit Kings that made their livings out of Toussaint blood. Yes, five women are dead. It is tragic and I grieve for their families. But then we move on and get the next killer. There will always be deaths. There will always be bandits and smugglers and the worst examples of humanity walking the highways and byways of the world.

"But the truth is that deaths are easy to count. Lives saved are not."

"And what is your assessment of these so-called Jack killings?" The Duchess overruled Morgan who was already opening his mouth to object.

"I have none." He said. "We can put strategies and tactics in place to protect against bandits. We can have inspections and watches to catch smugglers. Have patrols to prevent muggings and street attacks. But there is one thing that we cannot possibly protect people from. Over and over again we see this truth and it is the one thing that all guardsmen fear. The one thing that all protectors of the innocent fear."

The way he spoke reminded me of an often repeated speech.

"The one thing we can do nothing to protect from are the actions of madness. People who are willing to go to any lengths to achieve their goals. People who act without the usual motivations of money, security and the like. Men who are prepared to trade their lives for the lives of the people that they want to kill.

"I have only heard rumours as to what was done. But anyone who is willing to do to other living souls what rumour tells me were done to those poor women?"

He shook his head. "Those killings were the actions of madmen. Nothing more, nothing less. And they will be caught and punished accordingly. I am not saying that just to protect my earlier assessment of the Knight Commander, but because such people always make mistakes. Always. Without fail. They do not plan things properly and so, they are caught. Every. Single. Time."

"Very good." The Duchess said standing up. "In which case, we are content with our choice of Syanna as the Knight Commander of the Order of Saint Francesca. We are well pleased with her actions so far and we will be most displeased if we are called to one of these things again."

She went to leave before again stopping. She turned on the courtroom in place like a hissing cat. "And I trust my sister. Absolutely. The next person who accuses her of treason without some form of proof in hand will suffer the penalty for treason themselves."

She stalked from the courtroom.

Syanna tapped me on the shoulder and beckoned me out, but I wanted to see the reactions of the people after all of that was said.

Sir Morgan was angry and defiant.

Sir Raoul was talking to another group of courtiers which included the merchant Velles.

Sir Alain was watching me. I pretended not to notice and followed Syanna out of the door.

We went a little bit down a corridor before the Duchess led us into a smaller room.

"Leave us." The Duchess said aloud to the room as a whole. "Not you Lord Frederick." She added as I turned to go.

The servants and attendants that follow the Duchess everywhere turned to go, a few of them were hesitant. Men that I recognised as the Duchess' personal Secretary, the keeper of records and a few others but it would seem that the Duchess was in a temper. "I said, get the fuck out."

It is always a privilege to see these beautiful, ruling class ladies swear. Most of them don't because they think that it's beneath them and they have to present a more dignified front so that they can rise above whatever else is happening in the local areas. Including having to rise above the other male rulers in the room. One of those double standards of gender that we all live with is that ruling women have to be better than their male counterparts.

Something that I have found funny in the past on the grounds that some of the most successful rulers have turned out to be women. Queen Calanthe of Cintra, Queen Maeve of Lyria and Rivia, the Duchess herself and now Cerys of Skellige and Ciri herself.

But those educated noble women. It's always fun. Emma doesn't swear, she deliberately does not. So on those occasions where she does it's often a sign of violence. So that if she is swearing it's so that she can avoid punching someone else. But now she knows this about herself, so she occasionally uses it to shock.

Ciri swears according to what persona she is wearing. When we sailed, fought and travelled with her, she swore like a dwarven mercenary, almost as though she was using the word "fuck" in place of common punctuation. When she is in her formal Empress persona, she doesn't, except in times of extreme distress. Or as a way to put one mood away and start again with something else. When one problem cannot be solved yet, she will swear briefly and quietly before moving onto something else. When she is informal then she swears a lot like her adopted mother, Lady Yennefer.

Listening to Lady Yennefer swear is like being under fire from massed archers on a battlefield. Not that I've been under fired from massed archers on a battlefield but that's what I imagine it sounds like. She swears in a stream of constant noise, the words, tumbling from her admittedly beautiful lips in a torrent as she promises horrible death on whoever has displeased her recently to the point where she is forced into such a stream of invective. I've heard her do it in multiple languages too. So much so that I once disarmed one of her temper tantrums by asking her what a particular word meant.

Yes, I just accused Lady Yennefer of having temper tantrums. A lot like a toddler does.

You can't tell dear reader, but I am currently laughing at the image of apoplexy that my words will generate in her. To Lord Geralt, I apologise that you will be forced to sleep in the guest room at Corvo Bianco, or the stable in order to get any peace over the next few days.

But yes, the Empress does swear like that, but only in private around her closer friends or more trusted attendants. It's as though she rations herself during the day so that when she is in private, she can indulge herself like a glutton might when he has been living off bread and water for several weeks and is given the spread of a Skelligan banquet.

The Duchess of Toussaint swore as though the word was a tasty morsel and she wanted to savor every moment that the word was in her throat, her mouth, her tongue and her lips. She drew it out too, extending it and relishing it with every moment.

She literally tapped her feet until the room was empty before she turned her, not inconsiderable, charm on and directed it at me.

"Lord Frederick." She said sweetly. "I must beg you, once again, to forgive me and the people of Toussaint. What you just saw was shameful and I hope that when you come to write about this entire incident, I trust that you will write accurately and spare no detail. Even though it might hurt us personally."

"Your Grace," I began, "Such matters as this are bound to raise high temperatures and tempers. What I just saw in the court…"

"That was not what I was talking about. Instead, I was talking about the way that I just treated my sister by allowing all those people to level attacks at her without intervening."

"Anna…" Syanna began but the Duchess held her hand up to prevent Syanna from speaking.

"As someone who is going through his own familial trials at the moment, I would apologise for this coming up and beg your indulgence moving forward. That was not how I would have wished things to go."

"Anna…"

"You stupid, arrogant, foolish little girl." The Duchess turned on her sister in a spitting fury. They say that some women are always at their most beautiful when they are angry, I disagree, but in the case of the Duchess, they are possibly correct.

Syanna did not improve things by laughing at her sister.

"Just so we're clear." The Duchess went on. "I will not, sit through a farce like that again. The next time that men come to me with grudges to grind, and arrogance to indulge, I will tell them to shove their heads up their asses where they belong. I will not stand by and allow those pumped up, tiny manhood, foolishly dressed, idiotic, charmless morons attack you and the people that are giving their lives for the sake of this Duchy. I won't do it Syanna, I won't."

Syanna's smile broadened.

"As it is," It would seem that the Duchess had still not spent all her anger. "I may have done irreparable damage to the public perception of my relationship with you and my own confidence in the Knights of Saint Francesca." The anger seemed to dissipate. "Why did you want me to let them talk about you like that Syanna? That cut me to the bone not leaping to your defence like that?"

"I love you too Sister." Syanna smiled and wrapped the Duchess in a hug.

I let them indulge in their familial affection for a moment while I made a mental note to go and hug Emma and Mark when I was done with this meeting, or whatever it was. But then, I got to the point where I couldn't hold it in any more.

"Sorry." I said, "Sorry, but I am completely lost. What just happened?"

Syanna grinned at my confusion.

"As well as having signals to say that we should just trust each other. We also have signals between us as to what we should do in Court. In this case, I wanted my sister to stay still and not react."

"Yes. And I left it as long as I could before losing my temper. I love you Syanna and I will not permit these petty, small-minded, cretinous little imbeciles to attack you without having my own opportunity to fight back when I get the chance. I won't do it. I can't do it. I am sorry."

"It is good to know that you love me sister dearest. But I'm afraid it was absolutely necessary."

"Why?" The Duchess demanded.

"Freddie? Could you tell my sister about what was happening and about your theory as to what these killings are about?"

I did so, much more concisely and carefully than I had last time. Better thought out in general.

The Duchess did not react the way I expected her to. I expected shouting, fury, incriminations but what I got was resignation, fatigue and the signs of a woman that had enough.

"Ah well." She said, putting her hand to her forehead a moment. "We knew that they would come after you. I just rather thought that they would take a little longer to go about it."

"And not have a plan quite this complex." Syanna added. "And if they had waited, they would have far more examples of things that I was doing wrong."

The Duchess nodded. "So," She chose a chair and sat down. "It was a scouting mission. Trying to locate the enemy."

"Pretty much." I agreed.

"And what is your assessment? I know that my court is full of vipers. All the best courts are. It's what makes life so entertaining. But who is actually after me?"

"I rather thought that they were after Syanna and the Knights Francesca."

The Duchess sighed and gave her sister a dose of the most eloquent side-eye that I have ever seen. "You see, already it is getting into the common viewpoint." She turned back to me. "My sister and I act as concert. The Knights Francesca are brought together under my order. They act with my authority. Everything they do, they do with my say so. To attack them and especially, to attack my sister, is to attack me. That has to be the way of things, otherwise, we might as well not bother."

I nodded.

"So I ask you again." The Duchess went on. "Who is coming after me?"

"Us." Syanna prompted. "He will be happier with the word "us"." The Knight Commander also turned to me. "Make me a happy woman and tell me that Sir Morgan is the ringleader. I dearly want to see that man hanged or otherwise humiliated."

"He is certainly a possibility." I admitted. "He was front and centre throughout the entire thing. And he led the political attacks on you."

"I sense a "but" coming."

"I'm afraid you do. He is the most obvious option don't you think? I think that if there is a mastermind in our supposed conspiracy, he would have a scapegoat for this angle of his attack. Just as I am sure that he will already have a scape-goat set up for the Jack killings. I think that Sir Morgan is involved. But I think he's the political front. He might be involved with the killings…"

"No." The Duchess spoke up. "I can see him being involved as a political agitator. But I think he will be kept separate from that. He was horrified at those killings. Even at the killings of the, forgive me Lord Frederick, I know you dislike the term… But he was horrified at the brutal killings of the peasant girls. If there is a mastermind, then I would even believe that Sir Morgan is ignorant of the aspect of the conspiracy that is killing girls. Rather, I think he is the sort of man that believes it all just to be some kind of political movement."

"He is just clever enough to be stupid." Syanna agreed. "But I so want it to be him."

"Just as I want it to be Sir Raoul." I said. "I do believe that I hate that man. But he didn't ask, he just stayed on the outside of things and occasionally asked probing and leading questions. I want it to be him and I find that I'm looking for opportunities and leading factors that say that it is him without any evidence to support it."

Syanna nodded. "As the man said, a proper detective requires cold detachment. I am not dispassionate about Sir Morgan and you are not dispassionate about Sir Raoul. What about Sir Gregoire?"

"I'm sorry." I said. "I know that people hate him. I know that there are always rumours of his having done awful, despicable things. But I just don't buy it. His questions were genuine, purposeful and the kind of questions that a reasonable man might ask. I would be asking those questions of people in authority. I think that before too much longer, you will find that Gregoire's alibis will check out and that he was provably elsewhere on the nights of the various killings. I think he's frustrated and unhappy with his life, but just doesn't know how to change it."

Both women looked unhappy.

"If you want a solid suspect." I said. "I don't wear hats. So I would actively go out, buy a hat and wear it for a day. Deliberately so that I could eat it later if it turns out that Sir Alain is not involved in this somewhere. I would even bet a, not small, amount of money to say that he is one of, if not the man, that was under the mask and hat as he fought his way clear of Lady Marie's defenders and the attending watch. I will even bet money with you that it turns out that he was the one that assaulted Lady Marie at the night of the party where she was invited for a walk in the gardens. It is in his character I think."

"Why would Lord Tratamara accuse Sir Gregoire then?" Syanna wondered.

"Because everyone always believes the worst of Sir Gregoire. Including the people in this room."

"Valid point. But why wouldn't he tell the truth? Why not accuse the right man?"

"That answer, might tell us a very important truth." I told them both.

We all thought about that. "It would." The Duchess agreed. "But I cannot permit you to be accusing Lord Tratamara of anything untoward at the moment. The man lost his daughter and we must treat him gently."

Syanna nodded. "It might come to that eventually." She warned.

"Only if we have no other leads. And you must find some proof that he was lying."

Syanna nodded.

"And I want to see that proof, Syanna." The Duchess raised a finger and pointed it at her sister. "This is not a time where you can ask for forgiveness after the fact. Permission first this time."

"Yes, dear sister." Syanna tried for sweetness, but missed. Missed by enough that I rather thought there was some kind of private joke there.

"I will have your oath on it."

Syanna raised her eyebrows briefly. "On my freedom, you have it."

"Good. Then I shall leave you to your work. There has probably been a coup in my absence."

She stalked from the room.

Syanna and I had enough time to stare at each other for a little while before Kerrass, Guillaume and Damien were shown into the room.

"Gentlemen." Syanna said, pouring herself a large cup of wine from the carafe that was in the room. "I've just spent the afternoon getting yelled at by self-important idiots and I could really use a lead. A thread, or something to pull on to make this unravel."

"Is the Duchess wavering in her support?" Damien wondered, taking his own turn to pour himself a drink.

"No." Syanna admitted, sitting down and stretching her legs out. "She's just as defensive when it comes to matters involving me as she ever is."

"Is that a problem?" I wondered. "Support is good."

Damien passed drinks over to Guillaume and Kerrass who pulled chairs over. "Yes in theory. But in the case of her sister, the Duchess can be a little blind to consequence. There are many people who share some blame for what happened on the night of the Long Fangs. Detlaff and Syanna here certainly own a fair amount of that. But one of the ones that we don't talk about too much is the Duchess herself."

The Knight Commander had removed a knife from her belt and was cutting up an apple.

"Lord Geralt." Damien went on. "Advised us to send Syanna to the Vampire, guaranteeing her life. His friend… Regis I think his name was, certainly known to the Duchess as such, said that it was the only way to placate Detlaff. I wanted to send her, figuring that it couldn't hurt and as far as I was concerned, Syanna was a dangerous criminal."

"Which I was." Syanna said with a grin, some juice from the apple spilling down her chin. "From a certain point of view of course."

"Oh of course." Damien sniffed. Just a shadow of his former self shining through. "The court wanted the same thing. Even the lady herself wanted to go, thinking that she could talk her former lover down from his position of thinking that everyone should die."

"I was wrong, but that's another story."

"The only hold out." Damien ignored the interruption this time. "Was the Duchess herself. She prevented it, throwing Syanna into prison…"

"Of a kind." Syanna sighed.

Damien turned on her. "Look, do you want to tell this story, or shall I finish up while you get some food inside you?"

"Sorry Damien." Syanna tried and failed to look contrite. Out of the corner of my eyes I thought I could see Guillaume hiding a smirk behind a cough.

"So the Duchess threw her ladyship into a prison. Told the rest of us to shut up about it, on pain of losing parts of ourselves to the headsman and Lord Geralt was threatened with similar punishment if he didn't kill the elder Vampire."

"Which would have involved hunting a thing that can turn into a bat, into a mist, turn invisible and didn't need to eat, breathe or otherwise carry on if it didn't want to." Syanna finished up. "Detlaff could have buried himself in a hole in the ground to have an extended nap and Geralt would have just walked over him without noticing. But if I could have gone to him earlier, with Geralt and Regis as backup, even if it had cost me my life, then the night of Long fangs could have been averted. It isn't guaranteed, but it is probable. My sister is blind when it comes to me. That can work to my advantage when I want to push it, but it can also be problematic sometimes."

She sighed and pushed her small plate away.

"Ok. So what have you got. And please give me some good news. Damien?"

"I'm afraid not. Gregoire has solid alibis for three of the five nights that there have been killings. The other two I need to follow up on because he left to go to his holdings. But whoever said that he would be easy to track was correct. He was noted where he went. People stay out of his way."

"Where was he?"

"The first night he was taking part in the wine tasting event that was taking place at Dun Myne. He stayed the night there and to have made it back to Beauclair he would have needed to make that distance in a fraction of the time it would take a normal horseman. He was seen entering his private pavilion late at night, and emerged from that same pavilion in the early morning to depart. Horse, squire and equipment hadn't moved.

"The second night he was having a new suit of armour made. He likes to shop privately and the armoursmith confirmed to me that he was there until late. The smith there is one of Gregoire's only friends, but they arrange matters last thing at night so that it isn't obvious as to the fact that Gregoire shops there. There is a concern that it would be bad for business."

"Which it would." Guillaume agreed. "No-one would want to shop there. Even I, who knows that Gregoire is not the monster that people want to make him out as, feels some revulsion at the thought that I might get some armour from the same place as the Brute of Beauclair."

Damien grunted. "The two men stayed up late that night, drinking port and playing cards. Gregoire slept on the floor and was kicked out in the early hours of the dawn when the Smith's wife found him. Getting rid of him before the shop opened."

"Lovely."

"Then he went home for a couple of days where, according to his squire, he intended to stay and rest in advance of the new season starting up and while he was waiting for his new armour. He was going to train, eat well, rest well and get some proper training in after the winter festivities. But then news of the killings reached him and he came back to Beauclair."

"Not that I'm a suspicious bitch or anything." Syanna said, sipping her drink. "But I'm a suspicious bitch. Is that at all possible, that he didn't hear of the deaths?"

"I think it's possible." Guillaume spoke up. He was in town for two deaths and even we hadn't put them together as being connected yet. The third death would only attract notice if you knew about it and, famous in her field she might have been, but Nightflower would not have gained any notoriety. And so it would only be Lady Marie's death that would have attracted any kind of attention from that side of things."

"Why do you want him to be involved so badly?" I wondered. "You said that you invited him to join the Knights of Saint Francesca."

"I did. And he turned me down. I offered him a way to be better than he was. I told him a way that he could cast off the common view of him and become a hero in the eyes of the public and the nobility. And he threw it back at me. And nothing in his behaviour since has suggested that I should improve my attitude. He's just… It's a primal thing."

"You possibly need to be of Toussaint to understand it." Damien told me. "It's impossible to believe that anyone would want to be the villain of the story. Let alone thrive on it as he has."

"Let's move on." Syanna decided. "Witcher. What did you find?"

"Not much to add. I found where I could climb the building so that the beggar could have seen me had I wanted to masquerade as Jack. I found a hiding place in the alley that other conspirators could have hidden from view while they waited for Flower of the Night to be found. Beyond being able to confirm that there is more than one person at play here, I'm not sure what I could add to this. I still can't find any connection between all five of the victimes other than what Freddie suggests."

"You look nervous, Witcher. Is everything alright."

"I have a personal matter that I need to take care of so I would like to get going sooner rather than later."

"Fair enough." Syanna responded. "Can you stay a while longer?"

"A while, I just… I don't want to be late."

Syanna nodded. The magical words. "Personal matter" rendered all curiosity moot.

"Ok, Guillaume, make me a happy woman."

The opportunity for a joke completely passed over Guillaume's head. "I have been able to trace the party where Lady Marie was attacked and have been able to speak with Lord Treville."

"Please say it was Gregoire."

Guillaume sighed. "Gregoire was in attendance at that party. And he did indeed invite Lady Marie for a walk in the gardens. But her father was having none of it and refused his daughter permission to accompany such a man into the gardens. Lord Treville suggested that Lady Marie was not disappointed by this turn of events and guessed that there might have been some kind of signal between the two as to when Lady Marie would have been happy to go into the gardens with someone and when she might have declined."

"What was Gregoire's response?" Syanna sounded more resigned than anything else.

"He was disappointed, but promptly moved onto the next eligible lady."

"Was Lord Treville able to say who it was that attacked Lady Marie?"

"He was not. She went for walks with several men that he saw. Often younger sons of people her father was negotiating with, potential matches that kind of thing. Her father was unhappy with all comers and it was Lord Treville's opinion that Lady Marie was insisting on getting out there and meeting some eligible men. Lord Tratamara was less convinced."

"Damn." She said it without force though.

"Lord Treville did confirm that Lady Marie came back into the room after one of these excursions with a torn, muddy dress, a "wild look" and tear streaked face. It was not difficult to surmise that one of her prospective suitors had been a little fresh with her in the walkways and hedges."

"But he doesn't know who that was."

"No."

"Did you find a guest list?"

Guillaume smiled. "I did. And guess who's on it."

He produced a piece of paper, "I could only jot down the list, copied from the herald's list."

Sir Alain was on the list. Along with many other names that I didn't recognise.

I looked at Kerrass whose face had tightened a little.

"Well it's not proof." Syanna said unhappily. "Does anyone else have anything? Anything at all?"

We all shook our heads.

She sighed and turned away. "Someone else is going to die tonight."

"Yes." Damien admitted. "Yes they are."

"Fuck." Syanna rubbed at her brows for a moment. "And our only suspect is a very thin accusation of Sir Alain, very thin with almost no basis and even if it is him, then he is certainly one amongst many and can probably produce some premade alibis. My only other lead is this fact that Lord Tratamara lied to me and I'm not allowed to confront him with that."

"We can't do that? Why?" Damien wondered.

"My sister forbids it."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want us pressuring a grieving man. Not unreasonable. Except in the face of the fact that someone else is going to die tonight."

There was another pause.

"Lord Frederick. You are the one with a working theory that captures everything any guesses as to who it's going to be?"

"No guesses." I said. I had been considering that question. "They are going to come after you and the people around you. The wives and lovers of your more prominent Knights. After today I would also suggest that Madame Duberton would make a good target in order to discredit and attack the good Colonel as well. But I think that this is the planned part of the scheme. Their next target is already chosen. Before, they were after women that had scorned them, from their perspective of course. Now, they will go after those people that they actively want to get rid of. Sooner or later though, they are going to go after you directly."

"Cheery."

For a while, Syanna stared into space before abruptly shifting and stretching out, folding her hands behind her head and closing her eyes. "Well, we can't just fret ourselves into solving this. It's likely to be another busy day tomorrow so we should do our best to get some rest."

There was a brief pause as we all looked at each other. Kerrass had checked himself before heading to the door, waiting to see what the rest of us would do. Syanna opened one eye and peered at the rest of us.

"Rest gentlemen. That's an order. We will all need to be at our best tomorrow."

Kerrass left the room, not leaving me enough time to even tease him about rushing off to see his lover. Sorry, I should use the terms and vernacular of the place that I was in. He was rushing off to see his mistress.

Damien rose to his feet slowly. "I…" He began slowly as he stretched his arms above his head. "Am going to get a bath, a meal and aim to have a good night's sleep. I have not been in my own bed for more than four hours at a time for what feels like forever."

"At the risk of being filthy," Syanna said, also stretching as she rose to her feet. "I am going to join you in a bath." She smirked at the Guard Captain who was looking nervous. "Normally, at a juncture like this, I would take this opportunity to make a suggestive comment about the two of us bathing together. But I am too tired and too frustrated at the courtiers to come up with anything witty."

Damien smiled before doing me proud and rising to the occasion. "Even if I were to say yes to such an invitation, which I wouldn't, then I myself would be too tired to actually do anything about it. I would likely just fall asleep, either in the water or in the bed, long before we got to any of the fun stuff."

Syanna nodded. "I feel much the same. Although the prospect of falling asleep next to you is far from the worst idea I've ever had. Anyway… I have no doubt that I shall see you all in the morning gentlemen."

She and Damien left the room together. Guillaume and I sat together for a little while. My thoughts were bouncing around, playing the court session over and over again in my head as I spent the time looking for new clues. Looking for words that were said out of order, analysing points, body language and the actual language used. I don't know for how long we sat there. Not for that long, a few minutes I would guess. Certainly no more than that and I suddenly realised that my thinking was going round in circles. One of those self-defeating circular thoughts that was leading nowhere and I physically forced myself to jerk free of that pattern.

I rose to leave and like Damien and Syanna before me, I stretched my hands above my head until I could feel my spine crack. I had some kind of half formed plan of getting something proper to eat, a bath and an even less formed plan of convincing Ariadne or Anne to wash my back. Syanna's words about falling asleep in the arms of someone else seemed awfully attractive in the right there and right then of the situation. But then I saw the expression on Sir Guillaume's face.

"Are you alright?" I asked. Such a basic question but it has gotten more important conversations started than any other conversation starters that I am easily aware of.

He jumped. "What? I… Yes of course… Of course." He frowned. "No," he admitted after a moment. "No I'm not."

I pulled up a chair. "You wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

"You mean apart from the fact that these fuckers went after my wife, the woman that I love more than breathing." His anger lashed out, gone as fast as it flared up. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I would feel the same way. And that's only if I'm right. Which is not guaranteed."

"How often are you wrong in that kind of thing?"

"It's a situation where I throw mud against the wall. The more I throw, the more stuff sticks. Kerrass is kind, when researching things you get to the point where you get a feeling for the right answer. I'm pretty sure I'm right but there is no denying the fact that I am off my game at the moment."

He grunted.

We sat there for a while. I was using that old trick of the interviewer. Waiting for my friend to start talking.

"You should go." He said. "We are supposed to be getting some rest."

It was a distraction, rather a clumsy one as well. A little bit harsh of me to say it like that, but it was. He was trying to get me to leave him alone. But I thought that this was a lie. I thought that he wanted to talk. He had already admitted that he wasn't alright and if he had wanted to avoid the conversation then he would have left the room. I had many different things that I could say that would deflect him. I could tell him that he was under the same orders and wonder why he wasn't going to get some rest.

Instead, I went with: "Talking a problem out with a friend is resting."

He didn't have an answer to that.

"I don't like this." He said after what seemed like an age.

"Don't like what?"

"I don't like…" He waved his hands in the air, reaching for words that would not come.

"The waiting?" I guessed. "I have always hated the waiting."

"No, that's not it. The waiting has never been a problem for me. But for a few exceptions, there is little to be afraid of. A proper suit of armour will protect you from most things. I have been struck by a giant hurling a windmill, literally, a windmill. I have been charged by a rampaging Shaalmar and have been struck, plumb in the chest by a lance wielded by a charging Gregoire. It hurts, there are injuries, but this is the price we pay for knighthood. No-one enjoys that. But I am a lucky man. I have a wife that I love, and who loves me back for reasons passing my understanding. I have money. Were I to die then I do so in service of Toussaint. If I am crippled then I am sure that I will find some use of my time and I am secure in the love of my wife, regardless of what happens to me."

I said nothing to that. I had to remind myself that I was dealing with a Knight of Toussaint and the fact that they do not think, or act the same way that normal people do.

"No, the waiting is not what is getting to me." He went on. "I have always quite enjoyed the waiting. It teaches us to live in the moment. To enjoy the life that we have, the air in our lungs, the strength in our limbs because the next moments could be our last. When waiting to ambush an enemy, every second gives more information. When waiting for battle, you can relax a little bit more. It's not the waiting that I am hating here."

He lapsed into silence for a short while.

"I think we're heading for a disaster." He admitted eventually. "I think we're heading for a… I think we're heading for a defeat here."

"Why?"

He thought for a moment.

"I've been fighting for nearly all my life. On the training fields, jousting fields, tourney fields. Against bandits, monsters, enemy Knights and every enemy that has come at Toussaint, you have been able to find me there, facing them with a sword drawn and a song for Toussaint in my heart. As we sit here, I am at the peak of my physical prowess. I am better now than I have ever been. I know that people complained that we were not able to compete in the main joust over the winter. But I saw those people and there was not one of them. Not Raoul or Gregoire, could beat me with the way I'm fighting at the moment.

"That's not pride… It's a little bit of pride, but it's also the knowledge that I am fighting really well at the moment. There is just this feeling that you're in it you know? Where the sword floats in your hand. Where the lance, the horse and the ground under you are one being and the strike rips out of you from your toes. It is not always there, it comes and goes and I know that in five years, maybe a little bit more if I'm lucky, it will stop coming to me as often before eventually leaving me altogether and I will fight on experience more than anything else.

"I have trained with the best weapons masters that Toussaint has to offer. I have studied the great generals and their works. I have even read textbooks from the Imperial war college and although I wasn't allowed to attend, I was flattered by Colonel Duberton that I would have acquitted myself with honour.

"And everything tells me that just sitting and waiting for our enemy to make the next strike is madness and will lead to our ruin."

He sighed then and his shoulders slumped. That was the point, he was upset with the reactiveness of it all.

"An amateur Knight will hide behind his shield when an experienced man will know that to just crouch behind a shield is only for defence against arrows or hurled missiles. After which you get up and close the distance. To hide behind a shield is death in a fight and a shield is just as much a weapon as a sword is. Sooner or later a battle is won by closing the distance to an enemy.

"Now yes, I know that there are ways to force an enemy to attack a superior situation but that is not what is happening here. We are waiting. We are waiting for the enemy to make the next strike. They are going to attack us and they are going to come for us. They are going to attack us and a lady, a woman, is going to die for our inactivity."

"We are not being inactive." I said. "We are…"

"I know what we're doing." He snarled, his temper getting the best of him. "We are resting,"

"And what would you have us do." My own anger rose to meet his. "Tell me, we'll do it. Kerrass is probably riding to meet his lady as we speak but I'm sure that the Knight Commander or the Captain can be roused. What would you have us do? Because we will do it. We will do it right now. You give us the word. Do you have some lead that we could follow up on? Just you and me? Do you have some clue that we have missed? Do you have a theory that could let some more light into the affair?"

"You know I don't."

"So what would you have us do?" I demanded. "There are guards and Knights stationed everywhere. The Duchess could order a curfew to be sure, but I am coming to know Toussaint now. If she did that then that would only make people more likely to leave their homes. At the moment, fear is keeping people indoors, a court order would spark defiance. We could ride around looking for Jack but Toussaint is a big place and the truth of the matter is that he could attack at any time and in any place, what are the chances of the two of us being in the right place at the right time?"

"All that would happen." I took a breath to calm myself down. "All that would happen Guillaume, is that we would exhaust ourselves. The Knights and the Guard leak things. So the only guaranteed dependable people were in this room. So in the morning, when everything that will happen, has happened. If we are well rested, we can fight our enemy. But if we are exhausted, then we are fighting that same exhaustion as well as our enemy."

My words fell into silence. A silence which lengthened. I thought longingly of my pillow.

"Every problem I have ever had. Every battle I have ever fought." Guillaume said quietly. "Has been beaten by being proactive. By moving forward and engaging the enemy."

"This is not a battle." I told him. "This is a campaign. And in campaigns, so I understand, you pressure an enemy until he makes a mistake. And then the trick is to make sure that your army is rested, equipped and fed well enough that you can pounce, instantly and without compromise so that you can exploit that mistake. That is what is happening here."

He took that in. He needed something else. Another push.

"Have you ever read Jon Natalis' memoir?"

"No."

"You should. My copy is in the north or I would lend it to you. He said that the hardest part of his life was not the leap from the ranks of the common soldier to the Knighthood. The hardest part of his life was when he had to make the leap from implementing someone else's tactics, to devising his own. That point where he had to wait for the scouts reports, waiting for the sight of his enemy and for the news of what was going on on his flanks. The point where there was no choice but to react to the movement of the enemy.

"Then he said that the reports came through, he saw the enemy and what he was up against, saw their vulnerabilities and could issue the orders to exploit it. Then he could force a mistake onto the enemy general and that they would then be the ones to react.

"Yes we are in the position of reacting to enemy movement right now. But soon. Very soon if I am a judge. We will be the ones to attack. We will be the ones to take it to the enemy."

I rose to my feet.

"In the meantime…" I stretched again. "Go and find your wife. Have dinner with her and get an early night. The Knight Commander was right. It is likely to be an early morning for all of us."

Guillaume nodded and rose with me. "Thank you Lord Frederick."

"Don't thank me. You will probably have to tell me exactly the same thing tomorrow when I am the one doing all the fretting."

He smiled at that. "I will."

I clapped him on the shoulder which, given that he was still wearing all his armour, hurt me more than it hurt him before we left the room together and went our separate ways. Alas for me, he got the easier end of that deal as his path didn't take him past the courtroom.

"Lord Frederick, what do you say to the accusations that you are just prolonging this for the purposes of your trading company?"

I very carefully did not say that it was the family's trading company, not mine.

"Lord Frederick, is it really Jack out there killing innocent women?"

This person, although I did not see who it was, sounded genuinely afraid and I desperately had to fight off the urge to tell them that they had nothing to worry about. I have no doubt that they were genuine, but there was little doubt in my mind that an enemy was watching carefully. So I ignored them.

"Lord Frederick. Any comment on the progress being made?"

There were a few of these. It has happened before when Kerrass and I found ourselves working for Lords & Ladies that are in the possession of a court of the land. People demanding progress reports because they feel that they are entitled to the information.

Which they are in my opinion. But that is not my problem, or focus. Kerrass told me that the first time it came up. He told me that people will demand to know your progress, from the highest lord to the lowest villager, all of them thinking that they have a right to your time more than you do. "The only person that we have to answer to is the person paying the wage. After that, it's up to them to decide who knows what and how much. After all, there are things there that certain people might not want generally known."

So although I agree, I think people should know everything, I find that it's not always that sensible to do that. In this case, it could be rather fatal.

So instead of stopping to answer all the questions I simply moved past them with a noncommittal comment that they should address their questions to the Duchess but that I had work to do.

But these people always have words that they can throw at you. Barbs that can wound you, even as you walk past them.

"Lord Frederick. What will you say to the family of the woman that will be killed tonight because of your negligence?"

I felt my hands tighten at that, as though they were wrapped around a courtier's neck. Fortunately there were several people between me and the person that called this. Including a couple of the Knights of Saint Francesca and a, not small, number of other courtiers. Some of whom were obviously appalled at the comment.

No I'm not going to tell you this person's name. There is always a person who says things like this. They are trying to wound, trying to hurt and there is nothing that you can say or do that will prevent them from doing so. In my case, they do it to hurt, yes, to sabotage, that too. But also because they know that I'm going to talk about it in these journals.

I like to think of that person reading this, right now, who will want to claim that it was them in order to garner some notoriety for themselves. But it won't work. Because now, unless there were other people there, anyone can claim that it was them that asked that horrible question. And then their hypocrisy is exposed for all to see.

I realised that I was staring my hatred at this person which meant that I had stopped in my progress, leaving me vulnerable to being asked even more questions, so I spun and did my best efforts at stalking off. I strongly suspect that I was only minorly successful.

There was another group of people clustered outside the guard point that was set up outside the guest wing of the palace. There were only a few guests in residence at the time and most of them were in my family's quarters so the guards weren't letting anyone past. Not with supposed messages to try and get to someone. Not with packages or offers of gifts. At least one person who was loudly claiming to have business matters to be discussed with 'Lady Coulthard" was also turned away with a grunt and a complaint. Fortunately for me, they didn't realise that I was there until I had almost already passed them and as such I could leave their questions and their complaints in my wake as I moved into the blessed silence that was the corridors outside our rooms.

I stopped, just outside the door leading into that area, literally with my hand on the handle. I had been so caught up in thinking about the murders and the questions that I had been dodging that it hadn't occurred to me until I was actually stood there that this would be the first time since that morning when I would actually see my family as a whole and I found that I didn't want to do it. I wanted some peace and quiet for just a moment.

I retraced my steps and found the balcony that I had vomited on just that morning. The mess had already been cleaned up and I sat down with my back to the balcony and stretched my legs out. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself and formed that old bubble of warmth and darkness round myself. Lifting the hood over my head and down around my face so that I could add the darkness to that illusion.

It's nice there. My own private existence in the warmth, surrounded by the smell of the cloak that I now, irrevocably associate with the outdoors. Old scents of herbs, woodsmoke from long forgotten campfires and old food smells. Also horse. There is a lot of horse smell to be associated with that cloak.

I like it when I find that place. It is not always there. Often, there is a pressing need to get some sleep, either time or physical constraints mean that it is necessary to get my head down. And that was true here as well, but right now, I just wanted to sit there wrapped up in my warm cocoon where I didn't need to worry about things, turning it over and over in my mind as I went through the problem again. Was there something that I had missed? Was there a question that was unanswered, a situation that we hadn't gone over. Or was I just wasting time before I went to bed.

"It is a little of both." Came Ariadne's voice. "May I join you in your warm place?"

"That depends." I said. "Are you coming with recriminations or news or pressure for me to do things that I don't want to do?"

"Not a word of it," she responded. "I just want to spend some time with you."

"Then you can come."

And she was beside me, her arms wrapped around me.

"How are you holding up?" She asked.

"I am tired without being sleepy." I told her. "I am scared without a target."

She rubbed my arms in that wordless gesture of affection and care. I don't know why it works but it does.

"I have the sense that we are just waiting for something." I said. "Some small matter that would solve everything. Just that one link that would lead us to our enemies."

"You will find it." She said. "You always do."

"But I don't do I." I said. "That's part of the problem. One real failure in this line of work. One real failure and it's the biggest one. The most personal."

"And this one will come too. Come on, thinking too hard about it isn't going to help. Come inside. There is dinner laid out and your family waiting. They love you and the world is full of distractions. The answer will come, in the small moments of the night. Just make sure that you don't neglect Anne when the answer comes."

"I feel sure that she will ensure that my attention is centred solely on her."

"That's part of the point isn't it." She said. "Come on."

She heaved me to my feet and led me into the family rooms.

Emma met me there and I realised that this was the moment I was putting off. That moment of decision. Was I going to hold onto my anger, or was I going to let go of it. I had not realised it until that moment as to what I was going to do.

She looked at me with watery eyes and slowly raised her arms. The wordless question was what broke me in the end and I stepped into that embrace with a small sob of relief.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not your baby brother any more Emma." I told her.

"Yes you are." She replied. "You always will be. But you're not the little boy who used to come to me every time that Father yelled at you either. I need to remember that sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" I wondered, pulling back with a smile.

Mark was next and he enveloped me in one of his expected bearhugs.

We sat and ate dinner as a family. Laurelen and Ariadne joined us and we spoke of other things. Small things, unimportant things that needed discussing. Family planning. Wedding planning, including an entertaining little diversion where Emma and Laurelen planned the wedding that they would never have. Both of them wanted to wear red dresses although Laurelen wanted to get married in a forest clearing while Emma wanted to be married in the family chapel.

I was much better at keeping the topic of conversation away from their betrayal than I had been with Kerrass, or even Ariadne. Emma, Mark and Laurelen took me at my word and didn't mention it.

It was not back to normal though. There was a stiffness there. The gaps between conversation topics were a little too long, a little awkward as one or another of us desperately hunted for something to talk about that wasn't… you know… that. It was saddening, very saddening but at the same time, I found that I was comfortable with my choices. What had happened was not my fault and the only other way that I could have dealt with it was to ignore it and pretend that it had never happened. An answer that would only lead to further betrayals and more resentment. I was comfortable that I had made the right choice, but I didn't like this new sense of awkwardness between us all.

I begged off early and went to bed. Ariadne came with me and hugged me before she left me at my door.

"I am very proud of you." She said.

"Why?"

She shook her head. "You may not realise it, but you are still ill. I can see it, so can your family, Kerrass and those people that know you well also. But you are working hard. Hunting a killer and confronting your family head on. It would have been easy for you to take the easy route and you did not. I am proud of that. I am proud of you."

"I couldn't have done it without you." I told her. And meant it.

She tried to fight the smile of pleasure that came with that but I wouldn't let her and kissed her instead.

"Get some rest." She told me, all but pushing me into my room where Anne was waiting for me.

She was lying on the bed, wearing little more than a few strands of silk that hinted at the wonderful shapes that lay beneath, legs and arms stretched out that did interesting things to her body.

"Ariadne said that you might need some things to take your mind off it." She told me. "So I thought I would see if I could make you concentrate on me for a while."

She was entirely successful in distracting me.

Some time later we sat back, propping ourselves on pillows and doing our best to get our breath back.

"So how was your day?" She asked abruptly, making us both laugh. "Oh, that was worth the wait." Was her follow up line.

"I'm pleased that I live up to your expectations."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, there is some room for improvement…"

"You wound me." I cried so she hit me with a pillow.

"You are self-aware enough to know that there is a certain something that is added with emotional context, just as there is with longer term relations where you can both learn the quirks of your partner's bodies."

"Such formal language." She hit me again.

"But that was entirely satisfying." She purred.

I know that it's very male of me, and more than a little smug. But there is a special kind of male pride that comes with leaving a woman utterly satisfied in the bedchamber. It truly is like no other kind of satisfaction.

"But seriously though, how was your day?" She asked.

"Long." I said, "frustrating. On the one hand I think we learned quite a lot. On the other hand, I don't think we entirely know what it all means yet. We also had our time wasted on a scale that I don't think I've ever seen before."

"How far are you from finding a solution to all of this?"

"I don't know. If I'm honest, I think we are getting to the point where we, all but, know who it is that's behind all of these deaths. But proving it is going to be an entirely different concern. And then we have to catch them of course."

"So it's not Jack?"

"No." I admitted, being a little cross with myself for letting that slip. "No it's not. It's just your normal, garden variety monster wearing human skin."

She propped herself on her elbow and looked at me. "Should I be relieved? Or should I be more frightened. From your tone it is hard to tell."

"I wish I could answer that. The simple truth that I have seen, over and over and over again on the path with Kerrass, is that monsters act according to their nature. They can co-exist with us, or we can co-exist with them. I've met a were-wolf that acted as a gamekeeper for a Northern Lord and locked himself in a cage for five nights either side of the full moon. He had a lunar calendar in his cabin with the phases of the moon marked carefully in red ink.

"You will have read about Tom the Troll but the happiest being I ever met was a Troll that was a village's ploughman. He did it all by hand. A little slow but the village boasted that he could plough even the toughest field. He had agreed to help the village after one army or another had stolen the village's last oxen. So instead of living in a cave where the village hated and feared him, now he lives in a hut, is fed from the harvest that he helped to produce and the children of the village ride on his shoulders as he works.

"Toussaint itself depends on the Insectoids that live in the earth. The Kikkimores and Centipedes churn the ground and their secretions add to the soil in such a way as to help produce better quality grapes.

"Monsters are only monsters because that is what we choose to call them that. In truth, they are beings and creatures like us. And like us, sometimes they need to be taken away from society and sometimes they can be brought into society.

"Worse than that though, is always the humans… Sometimes Elves although I have found that it is almost never a dwarf, or a halfling. But it is the humans that are the worst and most terrifying creature of all."

During the last part of my little sermon, she had started to grin. "Wonderful speech." She told me. "But I was thinking more about the specifics of this situation, rather than the general nature of monster versus human nature."

I laughed at myself. "Sorry, I went off into a lecture didn't I."

"You did."

"Then the truth is that I don't know. Jack doesn't like copycats and goes out of his way to destroy them. He might decide to turn up and start killing people to show Toussaint what the real Jack is like. Or he might just kill the people that are pretending to be him falsely. He is a jealous creature. And the other problem becomes, these people have decided to do this. We don't know why yet. I mean we suspect things, but we don't know why. So what's next?"

"What do you suspect?"

"I shouldn't really say."

"Fair enough."

"No I mean, I don't want to say in case I turn out to be wrong."

"How likely is it that you are wrong?"

I took a deep breath. "Not very likely. My theory is the only one that fits all the facts as we know them. I've tried to think of other things, tried to think round the corners and tried to come up with other situations. But this is right. I feel it."

We lapsed into silence for a while after that.

"Someone else is going to die tonight." I said slowly. "And there is nothing I can do to stop it."

"You can rest." She said, putting her arm round me in comfort. "You can rest, and you can catch the bastards that are doing this."

"It's easier said than done." I replied. "All they need to do is pick a random woman, just anyone wandering the streets and paths of Toussaint by herself, and take their time. There is nothing we can do to stop them. We can make it difficult and it's already as difficult as we can make it. Guards, patrols, watchmen and, much though they might do more harm than good, the vigilance committees are at least good enough to keep people indoors so that we don't have to worry about that."

I frowned in thought.

"You're brooding again." She decided after a while. "It would seem that my work here is not yet done."

"You don't sound too disappointed about that." I groaned as her hands started to wander.

"Sometimes, not always, but sometimes my job can be a lot of fun."

Anne did her job well and then we slept.

I dreamt that night. It was not an unfamiliar dream but this was from a new perspective. I recognised the village almost immediately. I had been there only once before but this was a new perspective. I looked down at the sleeping village of Amber's crossing and it was deserted. The cold of early winter had set in and there was frost in the air as I stood on the main beam of one of the houses.

And I was not alone.

"Do you remember this night my friend?" Jack said, standing next to me.

"I remember dreaming this then as well."

"Oh no, this is the same dream." He replied. "You are about to emerge from the inn, wondering why there is no-one around." He was dressed as he had been then. Hat, waistcoat and cloak. His legs long and furred, bending the wrong way in the form of goats legs and I realised that I was unafraid.

"Goats legs?" I wondered.

"Makes for better jumping." He told me with a smile. "I mean have you seen a goat run, or jump. I've seen them run up the sides of mountains, utterly without fear of tumbling. An inspiring sight."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"Interesting question. Here you come."

I watched as a younger me came out of the inn. It was me, definitely me, recognisably me, but I could not imagine myself in his place.

"I look so young." I heard myself comment, and it was true. There was a layer of young person fat that I lacked now. My stoop, born from years hunched over one book or another was much more pronounced. I moved with an utter lack of grace while my clothing looked awkward and misshapen on my frame.

There was a light in my face. An innocence that was missing now. Today, my eyes are shadowed, not least by the bags under my eyes. I watched as the other me walked between the houses, kind of looking for something but not really.

"What would happen?" I began. "If I went down there and talked to myself?"

"I imagine that everything would change. You could do so much damage, so much could be worse,"

"So much could be better."

"In my experience, that is rarely the case."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"How do you know that this is not a dream?"

"Jack." I warned, even though there was nothing that I could do to threaten him.

He grinned at me, his face feral. "Find those people Freddie." He told me. "Find them, deal with them, kill them. Or I will."

The other me had seen Jack now. Jack gave the little wave that I remembered and led the other on the chase into the woods as I watched, realising that the younger version of me would not have seen me even if I had descended to talk to him.

And then I woke up. Someone was shouting, Mark's voice. The booming resonance of the trained churchman. Yelling out the most stereotypical phrases. "What is the meaning of this?"

Anne was already awake and strapping her own robe about herself. "You had better go." She told me, looking afraid.

I pulled on my own robe and went outside to find Syanna standing before Emma, Mark and Kerrass. The Knight commander had a grim face and stood with her own faction. Guillaume and another pair of men that I did not recognise.

"What has happened?" I demanded of the already exhausted looking Syanna.

"I am here to arrest Witcher Kerrass of the Feline school." She told me in the clipped tones of a woman holding onto her temper with her teeth. "Please do not make this harder than it has to be."

"There has to be some kind of mistake." I heard myself comment. "What did he do?"

"We are arresting him on suspicion of being the killer Jack."

"What? That's absurd."

Kerrass was frowning.

"We have witnesses and are acting preemptively. Last night he was seen in the vicinity of the Moineau manner and this morning, Lady Moineau was found murdered in her grounds. Jack was pursued by the local guardsmen but he escaped."

I watched Kerrass carefully as soon as the name Moineau was mentioned. His face had gone from a kind of weary bemusement to an expression of stone. Except that stone has more character.

"It has been made known to us that Witcher Kerrass has been having an affair with Lady Moineau and as such, a motive becomes clear. You will hand over your weapons Witcher Kerrass, and come quietly."

"This is outrageous." Emma protested. "He has only…"

Kerrass held his hand out to forestall Emma's protest. "I will come quietly, but I will hand my weapons to Freddie."

"That is acceptable."

Kerrass unstrapped the two swords from his back and held them out to me. I took them stiffly, as well as the belt and boot knife that Kerrass produced after that.

"He is being framed." I told Syanna.

"Of course he's being framed." She snarled. "But right now, if I don't arrest him he will get lynched. Sir Morgan is already calling for the rope. I must also inform you that you are no longer welcome in my investigation. It is demanded that you cease all your investigation into this matter and leave it to the proper authorities. Sir Guillaume, you will attach yourself to Lord Frederick and see to it that he does not get himself into any trouble."

Sir Guillaume's mouth fell open. "Surely I would be better…"

"Sir Guillaume." Syanna's voice lashed out before she closed her eyes for a moment to calm herself. "I assign you to Lord Frederick, the same way I would assign you to a post on the battlefield."

She looked at me as she said that and I nodded my response. I got the message. I needed to prove that Kerrass was being framed and she had given me Guillaume to help me.

"Come along Witcher." She ordered, taking the now manacled Witcher by the shoulder and leading him off.

The room descended into silence.

"I will order some breakfast." Anne said distantly, leaving quietly.

"Freddie?" Emma said softly. "Are you alright?"

"What? Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I be.?"

"You're smiling."

I grinned at her. "Our enemies have just made a mistake." I told her.

(A/N: Some of you might be wondering what it was that Freddie did that was so reprehensible. But in this chapter he chose to fake a mental health attack. Now, to be fair to him, such a thing would not be too bad in the time and place that he is living. A time and a place where they are only just even considering that things might be more complicated than a blow to the head having some long lasting effects. I can also see how many might even see the move as being tactically sound.

I can't answer for that.

I can say that faking a flashback, a panic attack, or any of the other fits that can afflict someone with mental health problems is dangerous. Not for you, but if that can make people think that a genuine sufferer is faking, or if it means that some people don't take a genuine attack seriously enough…. Then it can even be deadly.

This is a situation where other people can cry wolf for those of us with genuine problems. It is not funny and is never ok.

Ok. I will put my soap-box away now. Stay safe out there folks.)