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

135. Chapter 135

(Warning: Contains a first hand account of a young woman/girl being taken advantage of and manipulated by an older man)

It was a nice little cottage all things considered.

Right on the edge of what would be a couple of hours walk from Beauclair itself while also being secluded enough that no-one would find it unless they went looking for it. It backed onto a steep embankment and was surrounded by the kind of uniform tree placement that suggests a massive timber harvest followed by a large scale replanting.

It was also within a small walking distance from one of the nearby villages and the track leading up to the door was obviously well traveled.

The walls were whitewashed, the roof was thatched but there was real glass in the windows. The shutters were painted in cheery floral patterns by the hand of a child, to my eyes, and were also scrupulously clean. The thatch was well ordered and neatly kept. The gardens around it were kept more towards the utility end of the craft of gardening. I could see rows of cabbages, turnips, carrots, garlic, beans and onions as well as a few other things. There was also a pair of herb gardens. One of which was clearly for the kind of herbs that a person would use for the making of simple medicinal potions. Joint pain hot rubs, ease of breathing, that kind of thing. The other was used for the kitchen herbs. I could see Basil, Sage and rosemary easily and some others that I was not as familiar with.

There was a small enclosure that housed two goats and a carefully fenced off piece of land that contained a henhouse with a large, open, grassy area along with it for the chickens to run around in.

Not all of it was utility driven either. There was another small patch of ground that was given to the growing of flowers. There were small pathways amongst the flower beds and blooms as well as a wooden seat set in a shelter that was wrapped in ivy with rose plants on either side. The garden was not in bloom at the moment. But it was clear that things were being planned for a coming replanting. The ground does not freeze as hard in Toussaint as it does in the North and there were signs of some mulching going on.

It was a beautiful place. Sheltered from the wind by the trees, I imagined it to be a place that would be cool in summer, warm in winter and was always accompanied by the constant music of running water from the stream nearby. And always with the sound of the wind in the trees.

It really was a shame what had happened to that place.

The first thing we saw was a chicken that had had its head cut off.

Guillaume saw it first and stopped our horses. We had been riding quietly for a little while and the day was getting well into the afternoon. I was a bit concerned with the early onset of evening given the time of year and wanted to pursue our enquiries as far as we could given the time available. Guillaume shared the same instinct that I was still just developing and the conversation had died down as he started riding that little bit straighter in the saddle, his shield a little bit closer to hand while loosening his sword in the scabbard a bit.

Seeing him doing this I started to feel the change in the trees myself. It is a cliche of bad plays and books when people say that things are getting too quiet or that they know that there is danger in the air because the surroundings have gone silent. But it is true, that really does happen.

I made my own adjustments quickly. Guillaume is an experienced fighting man and it always pays to trust the instincts of a man like that when it comes to danger. I readied my feet so that I could leap from my horse quickly and fitted my spear together. No matter how much I have practised, I have still struggled to figure out how to fight with a spear from horseback. I understand the logic of the thing, of course I do, but I can't think like that in the moment and still lack the confidence to actually attempt it in combat.

We rode slowly along the track. When he had seen it, Guillaume held his hand up and dismounted, his squire running forwards and taking the reins of both horses. We dismounted and advanced slowly and carefully. Another difference between working with Guillaume and working with Kerrass is that it's really hard to be stealthy in a suit of full armour. The benefit was that any attackers would strike at him before they came at me.

We came round the bend and saw what had become of the cottage. Guillaume actively groaned before putting his sword away.

"Whatever happened here is long over." He told me before calling his squire up. "Planchet, ride back to the village we just passed and tell them that the cottage has been attacked. Tell them that I will be along shortly to ask some questions. Leave the horses, tie them to… that tree over there."

The lad had paled at the things that had happened. He was swallowing hard and repeatedly.

"Hey," Guillaume called, sharply but not unkindly. "Look at me Planchet." The lad was licking his lips and his head jerked up. "Look at me." Guillaume repeated. "This happens, this is the life we sign up to. When it does happen and you find a scene like this, and you will if you continue down this path, then act first. Weep for the dead later. Get angry for the dead later. But for now, we must do our duty. Now, what have I told you to do?"

The young squire swallowed again and took a deep breath before answering. "I am to inform the village of what happened. I will warn them that you will be there shortly to ask some questions and I should tie the horses to that tree over there."

"Very good. Then snap to it."

It was not the worst scene of an attack that I have ever seen. Not by a long shot. Nothing quite like finding a family that has refused to move from within a griffin's hunting territory. Or seeing what happens to a person when the stone elemental decides to stamp on them. But there is always a special horror that comes with knowing that the awfulness has been committed by a human.

We knew that the owner of this cottage kept goats because the animals had been butchered, their blood had been splashed around everywhere. We saw the other chickens as well. One had been crushed under the weight of something while the others had been decapitated along with the first. The henhouse had been destroyed, the gardens had been trampled, the windows had been smashed, the shutters broken and someone had obviously decided to start a fire in the thatch which hadn't really taken, presumably due to the colder weather.

The door was off its hinges, the fences had been knocked down. It didn't look good.

It was a recent thing. Hours old, maybe a day at most that all of this had been done.

We advanced cautiously, carefully placing our feet as we climbed over animal carcasses and blood splatters as we came to the door. Guillaume gestured to keep a look out. I didn't think that there was still anyone here, but he was right to be cautious. He entered the cottage first, shield in the lead and sword held ready. He wasn't in there for more than a couple of minutes before he called me in, followed by the very distinctive sound of someone slamming a sword into a scabbard angrily.

"Fuck," I said as I entered the room.

It was a half living area, half cooking area. Simple, elegant and homely. Someone had loved this place. The furniture was simple and plain, even ragged looking. There was a spinning wheel in the corner as well as a small shelf that contained a few books. Stairs at the end of the room would lead upstairs.

And like the outside, someone had gone through this peaceful place and ruined it. Blood and shit was smeared up the walls, the books had been thrown to the floor and the pages had been torn out. Food had been thrown around and trampled underfoot. But that was not the main attraction.

Nailed to the wooden walls was the mutilated corpse of a man. It was his blood that we had been avoiding in the cottage itself. Strips of clothing lay around the place from where it had been torn. Lying in front of him was the ruin of a sword. Golden hilted, bright, but bent out of shape. Where there had once been jewels on the hilt, I could see scratches where people had pried the jewels free. Someone had taken a hammer to the blade and it was broken, misshapen as a result.

"Poor Vasseur." Guillaume said, shaking his head sadly. "You deserved better than this my lord. Rest easy."

"It's definitely him?"

"Oh yes." Guillaume pointed at the corpse's crooked leg. "That was one of the places that he was injured in that duel all that time ago. The duellist stamped on it hard and it never quite healed properly."

I nodded. The fact that Guillaume had to recognise the man by an old injury should tell you about the state of the poor man.

"Right. Ok then." I decided. "Could you help me get him down and onto this table." I said as I broke off the only remaining leg of the table to create a flat surface. "And we can see if he can tell us anything in death. Then, do you wanna go and take a look upstairs?"

"Mmm? Oh, of course."

Working together we were able to pry the nails loose and laid him as gently as we could on the wooden boards. While I worked with the limited tools of my boot knife and a couple of the pieces of equipment around the house, Guillaume went upstairs and had a look round before going outside for a bit. When he came back, he stood back and let me finish up.

"Do you want to go first?" I asked.

"The upstairs rooms are ruined as well. Two rooms, his and hers. Beds torn, clothes everywhere, valuables taken. I think we are meant to believe that this was done by a group of bandits."

"No," I shook my head. "Bandits would have taken the meat from the dead animals."

"And there are no bandits in the local area." Guillaume agreed. "There is no traffic in this area so there is nothing here to steal and there was nothing here to attract anyone."

"Another attempted criticism of the Knights."

"Probably. There are signs outside of several people I think. The Count definitely took one of them with him, or wounded him at least."

"Any sign of the girl?"

"None. I don't believe she was here."

I nodded. "That would track. Lord Vasseur was tortured for information, presumably the whereabouts of his daughter."

"Poor man. Everyone breaks and he was not a well man… I think that we have to assume…"

"No." I said, "he didn't talk."

"You are sure."

"He bit his own tongue off to keep himself from talking."

"Prophet's beard."

"My reaction was a bit stronger. He fought, they clubbed him down and tied him up. Probably to a chair. Then they tortured him for a while before he bit his tongue off. Then, out of frustration, they beat him to death and nailed him to that wall as… I dunno… Some kind of reinforcement to the idea that bandits did this."

Guillaume nodded. "He fought. Not with his sword although I think he did that too. But he fought, and there is no better death than protecting the life of an innocent. I will have him buried with honour."

"He deserves it." I said. "But what now?"

"I think we need to ask the village when this happened, whether they knew it had happened, and if so, why didn't they say anything. They might also know where the daughter might be."

"And we need to pick up Planchet."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that the village was fine. Like the cottage, it was a nice little village that under different circumstances might be called idyllic, or picturesque. Winter had curtailed the wildflower blooms and the more summery of the colourful blooms. It was centered around an old vineyard that had lost its prominence and was now all but a ruin. The industrial parts of the old building were still in use, but it was now part of a much larger local operation and the manor part of the vineyard was now part of an inn, currently closed for the winter.

Guillaume told me that this was a secluded part of Toussaint that people very rarely went to. Far from being entirely wealthy and as such, it was increasingly clear that there were no bandits in the area. I mean, what would they get out of it. There was nothing here to steal. The villagers didn't care though. This was their land and they took pride in it. They were looking forward to the day where they could begin harvesting the timber again, a distant date that they were confident would result in the turn around of their fortunes and if they could only hold on a bit longer…. I'm sure that you know the kind of thing I'm talking about.

There was a village guard posted given the recent events, but there was no wall, no palisade, no watchtower or anything that might suggest that there was anything in the local area that might be a regular threat. The "guard" itself was a ragtag bunch of people that wielded a grain flail and a scythe. One man had a hunting bow that would be laughable against Guillaume's mail and even a little dubious against my own leathers.

We approached slowly though and the men called out to us by name. We were led straight to the inn where the mayor of the village was waiting for us with members of his dour faced village council. There was genuine remorse at the news that Count Vasseur had died and it would seem that the folk of the village loved the exiled Count.

"My companion here has some questions." Guillaume told them, "and I charge you all to answer truthfully as we are seeking for the killers of this man as well as the other killings in Toussaint."

"Jack." They murmured, as if to speak his name was to summon his gaze to you.

Which of course it does, but this was the kind of murmuring that he would enjoy more than anything else.

"Right." One of the villagers had poured me a cup of wine, a little carelessly, as though it were slop. I am sure that no-one will be surprised if I tell you that it was among the best vintages it has ever been my good fortune to encounter.

"Right." I said. "Let's start with the obvious. I think that we are meant to believe that this was banditry. Going to Lord Vasseur's residence in an effort to find something worth stealing so let's start with that. Have any of you seen any sign of bandits in the local area?"

There was much shaking of heads.

"We are not angry, except to the people that did this thing." I told them. "But would it be possible for a group of bandits to approach the Count's cottage without you noticing."

"I don't see how milord and that's the truth." One man said. "There are regular excursions out into the woods to find chestnuts and things. Winter berries, fruits and the nuts and the like. There is also still game out there to be hunted and we collect herbs and things to be sold at market. Even in winter, there is work to be done. It is not like the north where work stops for the winter." The speaker sneered as though this made the Northern farmers lazy and feckless.

I carefully did not tell them that the winter that they were "enduring" was not the same as winter in the north. Where the hair can freeze to the ground if you are not careful. Where to expose flesh is to risk losing that limb and being forced to sleep outside is a death sentence. Northern farmers would work outside if it was an option and would laugh at the conditions that Toussaint farmers were complaining about.

Or I might be displaying my Northern bias there.

"Ok. but…"

"And 'is lordship did not exactly have anything worth stealing if you take my meaning." Said a woman. "I've been doing 'is laundry you see. 'Is daughter did her best to see to his needs but sometimes there was just some stuff that she didn't know how to do."

I nodded.

"Why not?"

"Well, she wanted to. She was enthusiastic and everything, keen for her and her father to be able to stand on their own two feet."

There was some muttering along the lines of "admirable".

"But he insisted on her getting schooling of a different sort if you follow me. He would send her off to learn at that fancy school up at Beauclair. She would learn to dance and sing and play fancy music and things." The woman that was speaking sniffed to show what she thought of that. "If she were my daughter, I would have taught her how to live life, but he gave her airs and graces that she didn't need and, if you'll forgive me, she didn't want."

"What do you mean? What kind of girl was she?"

The entire room softened, but also became more defensive. As though I had moved things in a direction that would suggest that I was going to insult, or attack the girl in question.

"I stress." I said. "That we are only concerned for the lady's safety. That we are looking for her, only to make sure that she is unharmed." I gestured to Guillaume to include him in that sentiment. "I do not for one moment, mean her any harm, nor would I wish any harm to befall her. At the very worst, I believe that some evil men seek to make her a tool for their own purposes."

"She wouldn't…" The woman began.

"She would never…" Began another.

"She would die before…"

There were many beginnings to this kind of sentiment.

"And that last." I told them "Is precisely why we need to find her." I told them. "They want to make her a tool. I am sure of it, but I also have reason to believe that she is resisting their efforts. But that puts her in danger."

There was a pause as they all looked at each other, they seemed to communicate telepathically, with glances and expressions and small whispers. That way of speaking that seems to come naturally to married couples and people that have known each other for years.

"She were a good lass." Said the one that seemed to be in charge. "She were kind too. I mean, we all know the rumours about her and her father but she didn't care. She just wanted to take care of her father and do the best she could. She didn't want to impose on anyone, she didn't want to ask for help. She loved her father and there was just some things that he didn't want her doing. He wanted her to be a lady whereas she just wanted to be her father's daughter."

I nodded.

"She were lonely," said another of the women, younger than the rest I thought. "There were plenty of young men that wanted to pay her court but her father wouldn't hear of it. This, despite the fact that there was little to no dowry to speak of as far as anyone knows. She's a comely lass if you like that sort, well spoken and things. But sooner or later, a man wants a dowry. But the Count, he turned them all down flat."

"It sounds like…" I reached for the words and just decided to go for it. "It sounds like you all love the girl, but that you can barely stand the father."

"Oh, he were just 'is lordship weren't he." Said the leader. "He were a good man and we remember from old. Fair, even, just if a little harsh in his dealings. He was good and kind to us and he needed our help and we never begrudged him that. He hated himself see?. He was quite angry and just occasionally it would spill out of him and be directed at the nearest person, if not at himself. He were still decent enough, kind enough, generous enough. Spoke well and didn't talk down 'is nose if you follow. It were only in the way that he behaved towards 'is daughter's suitors that he was… unkind."

"I see." And I did. A fallen noble, deluding himself into thinking that his daughter might be a key into reclaiming some of his former life. An old madness and an ancient story. Rarely turns out well.

"How did she feel about him?" I wondered.

"Oh she loved him." Said the woman. "Not the blind devotion that some expect as she had no time for his nonsense and would tell 'im so. Regular and often. There were a couple of her suitors that I rather think she were interested in. But her father wouldn't have it and she hated that. She also refused to accept his temper or his maudlin turns.

"She would literally drag him to the festivities whenever there was a party going on. She would feed him treats and ignore his sulking. She were a good girl. Kept apart from us by her father's… fatherness. And away from her own people by her lack of money."

"It sounds like a sad case." I commented.

"It was." Said the woman. "Very sad."

"So what happened? Where is she? The count is dead but there's no sign of anyone else."

There was some more exchanging of glances. More of the tiny communications of facial expressions and pursed lips.

"Someone started… courting the young lady." Said the woman. "It were a gradual thing at first. Small things. She started to be walking around and smelling bunches of flowers. She kept taking a note out of… a private place and she could be seen to be reading it. She had a more dreamy way of moving around the place. Normally, she was a salt of the earth, common sense kind of girl, but more and more she was walking around with her head in the clouds."

"Do we have any idea who it was?"

"Not for the longest time." The man took up the tale. "We asked, excited for her you know?"

"I know." I nodded.

"It seems that it was a secret admirer of some kind. Which caused a little bit of concern. I mean, a secret admirer like that, they're only after one thing aren't they." He said darkly. "Especially as it seemed to go on for quite a while and we began to be concerned that someone was stringing her along. There was even a darker suggestion that it was her father, binding herself to him and keeping her mind off all the other boys that were wanting to come a callin',

"But 'e were just as concerned as we were. Then, about a month ago, a Knight arrived on his big horse with shining armour."

"What colour was the armour?" I asked. Was it steel and silvery like Sir Guillaume? Or was it golden?"

"Oh, definitely golden sir. He seemed right proud of it too."

"Did you see his face, do you know what he looked like…" I was excited and it was only at that point that I asked the obvious question. "Do you know who it was?"

"I'm afraid not sir. He came incognito without a banner, or heraldry. He was wearing a full helm and just walked his horse through, as courteous as you like."

I tried to hide my disappointment.

"How tall was he?" Guillaume asked. "How wide? How big was the horse?"

"He wasn't very tall sir, less than yourself of course, maybe a little shorter than his lordship as well." The speaker gestured at me. "He was slender as well, moved with a grace, like a panther hunting its prey."

"Not Gregoire then." Guillaume commented, trying not to sound too disappointed. "How about the horse?"

"It was a big horse." One of the farmers commented. "Chestnut he was, gelding, well behaved and moved easily. Good rhythm to his foot falls, but to my eyes he was a riding horse. Not a fighting one. Meant for endurance and speed rather than strength."

I nodded. That didn't tell us much, chestnut horses are common.

"He rode through here on his way to the cottage. He were polite. Muttered something about Knightly vows and a need to speak with the Count. He were there a few hours before he came back and left the way he came. He came back the following day and the day after that before he rode off with 'er ladyship on the back of his horse. And that were that we thought."

"How did the Count feel about his daughter leaving."

"At first he were really happy about it. Obviously really pleased. He walked around for a while with a spring in his limp and a song on his lips. It was as though a great cloud had been lifted from him. We rather thought life would improve."

"You say that like things changed."

"Well sir, they did, right enough. They did."

"There started to be messengers going back and forth. Palace messengers. The kind that you're not allowed to stop on pain of death."

"I know the ones."

"At first he was pleased with what was in the letters, the Count I mean. But gradually, he seemed to get angrier with it. Angrier and angrier before he… visibly, started to sink into this kind of strange depression. He started to watch the roads carefully. For the first time since he came here, he took his sword down from above the mantlepiece and started to clean it carefully. Taking it out into the fields near where his cottage was and working the old movements that I recognised from my time fighting for the Empire. He got really angry then, really cross with himself for not being as good with it as he used to be. As he remembered being."

"What happened?"

"He started to warn us off, telling us that it wasn't safe around the cottage. Then, in the early hours, 'er ladyship came back."

As they were getting excited, they started to cut off each other's sentences. Passing the story round like they were getting frustrated with how slowly the tale was being told.

"How did she seem?" I asked, trying to calm and slow the flood of information.

"We didn't see her that much. Her father had taught her to ride back when they could afford to keep a horse and she had obviously kept up the practice as life moved on. She rode through here like the hounds of the hunt itself were after her. She did not stop, hair flying, cloak billowing behind her."

"She nearly ran over Jacques."

"She said she were sorry though."

"Aye, but she didn't stop to check, did she."

"So she was in a hurry?" I checked.

"Yessir, as fast as I've ever seen her move."

I nodded.

"What happened then?"

"She were only at the cottage for a short while before she rode back, a little calmer but still moving quite quickly."

"Was she carrying anything?" I asked. "Did she have any bags with her? Any boxes?"

"She had a couple of bags with her." Someone said. "Food, a waterskin and a blanket tied behind the saddle. She had changed clothes as well."

I nodded.

"The following morning, we all trooped down to the Count's cottage to ask what was going on but he sent us away."

"What did he say?"

"He said that some people would be coming. That we should hide, that we should just let them through and not try to stop them. We tried to tell him to come with us, to hide with us, but he refused."

"Did he say why?"

"He said that he had started this. He said that he had sold his daughter and now he was paying the price. He wouldn't tell us what he meant though."

I nodded.

"That was the early hours of this morning." Back round to the leader again. "We hid in our homes, we even put milk out and lined the boundaries with salt. But we heard nothing, saw nothing. We thought it was 'is lordship just being 'is lordship. But it wasn't was it."

"No." I told them. "It wasn't."

Guillaume and I had a little conference outside.

"So we have learned something here." He said.

"I think we have."

We both nodded for a little while.

"What do you think we've learned?" He wondered.

"I have no idea."

We laughed at each other for a moment.

"Ok. She had an admirer, someone that did a fairly good job of seducing the girl from afar." I tried.

"I do not think that would be hard." Guillaume commented. "She is only young as these things go and every girl or woman that I've ever met, and a lot of boys for that matter, want to be swept off their feet. It wouldn't take much to get that going."

"Mmm." I grunted. "Especially if you were starved of company of people your own age by an obstinate father, were lonely and spent all your time looking after said Father who didn't want you to leave."

Guillaume nodded.

"So," I tried again. "She was being seduced from afar. Then a Knight turns up, anonymously I notice."

"I noticed that too." Guillaume commented.

"Is that kind of thing common?"

"It was less common as the old Knights Errant preferred the fame of the matter." Guillaume said. "It's much more common now. But a Knight is supposed to declare themselves in advance and the Knight Commander is well aware of the deployments and things so that we can be held accountable if something goes badly. There is also a list of people that can challenge a Knight to reveal their identity. Guards, the leaders of any particular area. Mayors, overseers, aldermen, that kind of thing. Vows of silence are forbidden but we declare ourselves as the Knights of Saint Francesca first. So if forced, I would describe myself as Sir Guillaume of the Knights of Saint Francesca. We want the prestige to go to the Knights as a whole, not the families that are part of it."

"I see. So it's not too suspicious?"

"Oh it's very suspicious. That was a golden armoured Knight. Those that still do that insist that they be recognised for their words and deeds. They want to be recognised to hold onto what fame, power and prestige they have left."

"I see. So he was hiding his identity."

"I think so."

"So we have to assume that that Knight was either the admirer or that he worked for the admirer."

"I think so."

"And they took her off somewhere…. Why?" I wondered.

"To prepare her for a wedding? To bring her into their plots?" He sighed. "To have their way with her?"

"You are sure that this Knight was part of the plot? Not that I disagree with you, but still."

"Yes. Golden armour and the rest suggest, to me, a former Knight Errant."

"Mmm." I rubbed at my chin and realised that I needed a shave. "So she goes off to do… whatever. And then, at some point, she realises that her new fiancee and his friends were up to something nefarious. That Lady Moineau is in the firing line and she attempts to warn her."

"I think so."

"She is not afraid yet. But she is determined to save Lady Moineau. But then, they start to frighten her and she flees. Out the window, down a sheet or something. Gets a horse and comes back to her father to hide, or get advice."

Guillaume was nodding. "But he realises that this would only draw the enemies back here. So he tells her to take some things and to flee. To run, to hide. Does he send her somewhere?"

"He might." I said. "That would explain the torture and the refusal to speak. If he didn't know then he could have just told them that he didn't know."

"I don't know about that." Guillaume replied. "He could be forced to speculate as to where his daughter might have gone. And as her father, his guesses might have been fairly accurate and able to point them in the right direction."

"Fair point. So she flees and he stays behind. Did they catch her?"

"No, because then, why torture the father? The villagers didn't see them so the attackers were moving stealthily. The problem with being so stealthy is that you are out of sight of them and they are out of sight of you. Also, last night, Lady Moineau was being killed."

"True."

"If I have to guess. I would suggest that she escaped while everyone was arranging the death of Lady Moineau." Guillaume tried. "Then they come back, congratulating themselves for the execution of a task well done, maybe even after a certain amount of celebration, only to find that this particular part of their endgame has fled."

"They chase after her," I took up the tale, "wanting to avoid the village where the father and daughter are popular. They still want to preserve the Jack cover so they can't use that, and instead they try to pretend to be bandits."

"They find the girl gone and the father being obstinate. It is clear that the girl is one step ahead of them."

We paused for a little while.

"I think we have the truth of it." I said. "That feels solid."

"It does, doesn't it." He said. "But that still leaves us with the question of where she will have gone to hide. We must find her and find out what she knows."

We stared into the distance for a little too long.

"So, how do we set about finding her?" I wondered.

As it turns out, all we had to do was to turn around, re-enter the hall where most of the village was still sat, waiting for us to ask the question.

But that's not to say that it was a pleasant conversation.

Every so often when you're out on the path with a Witcher, walking into strange places and strange times, you come across moments where you have run afoul of some kind of local superstition or local rule that is born out of a very real need to survive. Sometimes, quite often even, a local superstition is born out of circumstance. As an example, they might have found that there is a spirit in a certain area that affects… I don't know… It turns the hair of young men white and renders them infertile. So it becomes taboo to go there.

Then one day, the lord's son goes into the area, gets his hair turned white and becomes infertile, a witcher is summoned and identifies the curse, goes to the area, finds the spirit that is causing all the ruckus and deals with the matter. But even though the spirit is gone, the taboo still remains.

Another example is if there is something going on in a particular building that the common folk know about, they don't know what it is, and because they are common folk, they get scared and invent dark stories about whatever it is that is hiding out in the ruin. It becomes taboo to talk about it. It becomes a tale that grizzled old men tell around the camp-fire, or around the inn, or the hearth-fire. A friend's uncle's cousin had gone there with a group of his friends in order to try and seduce some girls that they were with (Note the moralising nature of all of these stories. That is not an accident). But when they got there, they saw a woman, wearing a white dress who was bleeding from the eyes and as she opened her mouth to say something, blood came out of the spirit's mouth in a river that started to flow towards the encroaching people. The friend's uncle's cousin flees, being towards the back of the group and as he runs, he hears the screams of his friends that he had left behind. Then, the following day, some other locals go back and they can't find the remains of the other dead young folk. They have all disappeared.

Then the ghost gets a name like "Red Jenny" or "Bloody Becca" or the like. But you have to ask the question, who she was, where might she have come from and so on.

When you do that, it's a peculiar kind of feeling. The closest to it that I can think of is… Back at home, my family dining table was less than an entirely pleasant place to be. It certainly wasn't the most relaxing meal that could, or would ever happen. You could tell the kind of evening it was going to be almost immediately. If father was laughing and joking, teasing Frannie and playing with one of the children's toys then we knew that it was going to be a good evening. But if he stalked into the room without a word and sat in silence, we knew that the best thing to do was to keep our eyes on our foods and say nothing.

But then there would be moments where Father's wrath would not be denied a victim. He would ask questions, or someone would cough and forget their manners or something similar and then the mountain would erupt into flame.

There was always this moment. Just a moment before the yelling, or the cold cruel words would start. Just a moment where the entire room would just freeze. Where we would all just sit there in a mutual horror at what was about to take place, sympathy for the poor soul that was about to get destroyed and a shared gratitude that it wasn't going to be us that were going to be punished.

That moment. That moment where your arse tightens up. When your stomach roils and the room seems to get a little bit darker.

It is exactly like that.

Over and over and over again, I have been taught the lessons that uneducated doesn't mean that a person is stupid. But another lesson is that just because it is a peasant superstition, does not mean that there is not some wisdom to be found in the depths of that superstition. Listen to it and make your decisions accordingly.

So Guillaume and I leave the patch of wall that we were in the middle of propping up and reenter the hall. The innocent question of "Where might the young lady have gone to hide?" And it was as though we had asked when the Wild Hunt would be riding through the village to take another harvest of souls beyond the moon. The entire village pulled back from us as though we were carrying some form of disease.

Then they turned on each other and started talking in a gaggle of whispers. Something about her. Some female figure that they were really scared of. It was… extreme and I found myself bemused. Eventually the mayor was pushed forward again, the problems with being mayor meaning that he was also chosen to be the spokesperson when he clearly wished to do nothing of the kind.

"We dare not speak her name." He whispered, as though she might be listening. I will admit that I found the entire circumstance rather comical. "She was a wronged girl. She was scared. She was running. It is known that, if there is no-one else. When their friends have left them, or their friends are in danger. It is said that a wronged woman can go to her for help and she must help. It is the one thing that would redeem so black a soul."

It is an unfortunate thing to be cursed with a sense of humour like mine. The urge to find these things funny is strong in me, it always is and I was preparing to flee outside before a fit of the giggles overtook me when I saw Guillaume's face. He had turned pale. Haggard, sweating and his eyes staring. He saw me looking and turned his gaze to me and I realised that there was something here that I had never seen before.

Guillaume was afraid.

"Thank you." He told the room. "I will not make you speak any further. You have done well and I would thank you for your service. I know of whom you speak."

There was more murmuring of agreement and gratitude before the mayor stood up.

"You mean to visit her don't you." The mayor said.

"I fear that we must. Our mission is vital to the survival of Toussaint. We have no choice."

The mayor nodded. "Then we shall pray for your safe return."

"Come on Freddie." Guillaume tugged me away.

After we left I desperately wanted to ask Guillaume what was going on but he held a hand up to keep me quiet.

"Planchet?" He called.

The squire trotted over.

"Paper Planchet, quill, ink."

The squire nodded and retired to the saddlebags to produce the required implements. There was a shift in the squire's behaviour. Normally, as I have previously written, he behaves towards Guillaume with a barely disguised air of bemusement. But there was something in his master's attitude that spoke of real urgency.

Guillaume sat on a wooden bench and quickly scrawled something before folding it and passed it to his squire.

"Take this back to Beauclair. Put it into the hands of the Knight Commander herself, no-one else. Do you understand?"

"Yes my lord, but…"

"No buts Planchet. And if we don't come back, tell my wife I love her. And you should know that I was proud to have you as my squire."

The poor lad looked as though Guillaume had slapped him. "My Lord?"

"Hop to it, Planchet." Guillaume snapped, "There are only a few more hours of daylight left."

The lad ran off.

I took a deep breath "Guillaume?"

"Not yet Freddie. Not here."

I know the sound of an obstinate man when I hear them. There was no way that I was going to get anything out of him at this rate. Instead, we climbed on our horses and I was led towards a single file track that led us north. After a mile of easy riding the track widened to the point that we could ride alongside each other.

"I think I've been very patient." I said with as little tone in my voice as I could manage. "Where are we going? Who are we meeting? Where is Lady Vasseur? Countess Vasseur I should say."

Guillaume seemed startled before he turned back to me.

As he considered where to start, I found myself wondering if I was about to do something that Kerrass would add to his list of top ten stupid things that I had ever done. It's been a while since I asked him about that list and part of me spent a couple of seconds wondering if anything had been done recently to gain entry onto that list.

"As you have seen." Guillaume began. "Toussaint is a place of stories. Of heroes and villains. Of monsters and shining Knights that woo lovely ladies with flowers and poems. But just as we are fascinated by heroes, we are also enchanted by villains. Every outbreak of Echinopsae has a dark and sinister reason for it. Every nest of Arachnomorphs were drawn there by horrible memories. Every giant is a cursed villain, Every cyclops is a Knight cursed to horror. Every ghoul nest, every giant, cyclops, werewolf and the rest. We know it's all nonsense. That sometimes a Giant is a Giant with no rime or reason behind it. Sometimes a nest of Kikkimores just burst into the open. But we can't accept that. There must be a reason so we justify it all to ourselves and so… They are all justified by some kind of story. Something that we can hold up and justify our own existence with it. Sooner or later though, there needs to be a villain of the piece. The boogeyman that holds the entire thing together. Do you follow?"

I nodded.

"In recent times, since the loss of your sister, that boogeyman has become Jack. With these latest killings, I doubt that that trend is going anywhere any time soon. For a brief while it was Detlaff, or as the people called him "The Beast of Beauclair"."

"Alliteration has a lot to answer for in this kind of thing."

He actually smiled at that.

"But before both of them there was another villain. She was the Witch of Lynx Crag."

It was getting increasingly difficult not to laugh aloud.

"Guillaume. There are many Witches in this world. Most of them turn out to be women that know a little bit more about certain things than the average villager. They live in remote cottages and things because it's a practical thing, it means that they can be closer to the herbs and things that they need to make their livings off. And a bit of mystery helps them make a bit more money off the gullible."

"Freddie."

"Painting them as some kind of sinister, otherworldly horror is always, always just an excuse by religious people, or men in general, that are intimidated by their female power. Do not tell me that you subscribe to this kind of nonsense."

It was already cold as we road, but for some reason, the temperature seemed to drop even further. We rode in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry Guillaume I didn't mean to…"

"My uncle on my mother's side died when I was very young." Guillaume began. "I think I might have been six at the time, still the image of a Knightly man. My other uncle, Lord Palmerin, was always a bit austere for me to be entirely comfortable with him and he has since admitted that he was not entirely comfortable with me at that age. It wasn't until I began to earn my spurs that we started to become close. He struggles with children you see. But my other Uncle was a loud, brash, boisterous, bear of a man. One of my earliest memories is of him carrying me round on his shoulders, running through our family's orchards. This before taking me for a ride on his horse where we charged down the imagined enemies that were at our families gates and, all of four or five, I first felt the thrill of battle as we fought, side by side to defend the servants and my parents that protected themselves inside."

He smiled at the memory.

"And then he died. They didn't tell me why for quite a long time and to be honest, they were right when they said that I wouldn't understand it. All I knew was that my favourite uncle just wouldn't come by any more. They tried to tell me all the normal things that you tell a child when someone dies, about how he went away and wasn't coming back. That he had gone to a better place and I suppose that my reaction was not unusual. I promptly broke my parent's hearts by saying that I wanted to go with him and if it was such a better place then wouldn't we all be better off going to that "better place."

"Eventually, my Father had enough and he told me that my Uncle had been killed by a villain and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. That he went to his death willingly and in order to save the lives of a pair of innocent children. He told me that we should all hope to die in such a way. That he was proud that he was the family of a Knight Errant that had performed such an act."

He chuckled. "One of those events where you look back at it and find yourself wondering if that was the reason that you decided to become the person that you are now. I mean, how do you know? But certainly, it was one of them. I aspired to be like my Uncle and for a while I scared my parents even further when the games that boys play, with Alain, Crawthorne and the rest, started to involve me valiantly sacrificing my life so that others could survive. I was lucky though, I grew out of that particular urge towards self-sacrifice and have since decided that, although my life and my health are the property of the Duchess and of Toussaint. And should either of them require that particular coin then they have only to ask for it. But it is much better, better by far to live for the Duchess and for Toussaint. There are always people that would prefer the other.

"But when I was old enough, I was sent to be the squire of Uncle Palmerin. He understands that truth that, being a Squire is almost a lesser version of the Trial of Choice that is part of becoming a Witcher. It's meant to be hard but it's also meant to be educational. And one day, he decides that it's time to tell me what really happened to my Uncle.

"He was investigating a disappearance. A young couple, all of maybe sixteen or seventeen. Certainly no more than that. Had run off into the woods so that they could make a mutual assault on their respective virginities. They were young, handsome and pretty respectively, hopelessly in love the way that only people that age can be, but he was about to be sent off to learn the fisherman's trade and her father had an idea that he didn't want his daughter to be the wife of a fisherman. So he had made a match with a Cooper on the grounds that Toussaint is always in need of barrels.

"However, the two of them would not be denied. Which of them came up with the plan is of anyone's guess. But one of them decided that if they slept together, thus ensuring that she would lose her virginity, then the marriage contract would be void and their fathers would just have to suck it up. As plans go, it wasn't a bad one for that time and place, except that the girl was very pretty for her walk of life and just in the bloom of it before working life beat her down and the Cooper was smitten enough to ignore it should it come up.

"So the two of them evaded their chaperones and ran off into the woods to have their way with each other. One of those things that, under different circumstances, the people of Toussaint would cheer on. Romantic longing blah blah."

We exchanged smiles but I didn't want to interrupt the flow. My time in Skellige taught me that the real history of a land is often involved in these kinds of tales and even if there was no lesson to be learnt here, then there was still an interesting story that was worth recording. And, I was concerned that I had inadvertently damaged our new found working relationship so I didn't want to hurt what I was taking to be an attempt to rebuild that sense of trust and peace between us.

"I even think that their parents might have been tolerant of a quick affair of romantic longing so that they could both get it out of their systems. Certainly Uncle Palmerin agreed with that as he was part of the search party at the time.

"You see, the pair of them didn't come back. Everyone had guessed what had happened of course, teenagers at that age are not as good at hiding their plans from their parents as they think they are so it was well known that the couple were planning something. The chaperones were admonished and then the village in question settled down to wait for the inevitable moment when teenage lust gave way to practical concerns like food, money and shelter.

"Two days later they hadn't emerged and the village started to become concerned. There were visions of various things. Bandits were the most likely but there were Sylvans, Panthers, Barghests and all kinds of things in that particular area of the woods. This will have been before Lord Geralt's first visit to Toussaint and the monster population was still quite large.

"So the alarm was called and, among others, my uncles answered. Uncle Palmerin's talent is not in the tracking of something. As fine a swordsman, you will struggle to find and I wish you could have seen him in his prime. As it stands, there are still only a dozen swords in Toussaint that could beat him but in tracking someone through the woods, he would be outclassed. So Uncle Lafitte took up the direct tracking while Uncle Palmerin organised a search and waited for reinforcements.

"Things looked bleak and everyone was just there, expecting the worst. To find a foot or a piece of bloodied clothing to signify that the pair of them had wandered into a monster's nest. The family were weeping, younger brothers and sisters were standing around, red eyes and impotent with their grief. And in the way that they do, the villagers rallied around and saw to the needs of the families. Recriminations were flying and tears were being shed.

"And Uncle Lafitte went into the woods to find them. At which point, he too disappeared. Uncle Palmerin described it to me as though a strange kind of shadow began to fall over the surrounding woodland. He used to stress, to me, that it is important, especially in the presence of the more spectral monsters, to be able to keep a rational head on your shoulders, to stay calm. To trust the blade in your hand, the man at your side and to take one crisis at a time. To trust in Toussaint, trust in the Prophets and to trust in the Lady and if that should be the day of your death, then so be it.

"But he told me that it was as though the woodland around them was becoming wilder, darker and more dangerous. Instead of the well treated, carefully cultivated woodland that it was, where pigs roam looking for truffles and where young lovers go to court and share kisses in moonlight. Now it was dark, tangled and forbidding. Like the wild forests that I saw in the North of Kaedwen or the outskirts of Toussaint itself. The pigs had fled, squealing and screaming as they tumbled over each other in their efforts to get away. Birds leapt from the tree tops and frantically beat their wings as they climbed higher and higher away from the trees so that the forest became utterly silent. Broken only by the sound of the wind in the leaves, the beating of the branches on each other and the creaking of the trunks in the wind.

"They were not deterred. By now, other Knights had arrived to assist in the search. They held the line against the darkness, brave men standing guard before the village with swords in one hand and lit torches in the other. The lone line of order against the encroaching darkness."

He paused, his eyes vacant. I can't blame him, it was a stirring image.

"Morning came and Uncle Palmerin led a search party into the trees. Dawn had helped lift some of the atmosphere of the area and he was accompanied by another pair of Knights as well as several local woodsmen to help clear a path or to… wherever they were going.

"And also to help carry the inevitable bodies back.

"So they were astonished when, not even an hour into the search, still following the trail that Uncle Lafitte had left them with the sign left on the trees and on the ground, they found Uncle Lafitte walking towards them with the figure of the missing girl in his arms. She was thin, skeletally thin, dangerously thin with the pale skin of someone who has spent far too long without seeing the sun.

"She was also older than she had been. To the point where her parents almost didn't recognise the living corpse that they were brought. It was only when she wept her relief at seeing them that they finally knew her, taking her in their arms and carrying her off to a bed and started to feed her the soup and potions that she would need to return to full health.

"Uncle Lafitte had also changed. He was thinner, he was still a powerful man, muscled in all the places that you get muscles when you train in full armour with heavy swords every day. But he had lost some of the… the signs that he had lived well. This was a man that ate what he needed to survive rather than the man that would stop next to an inn and buy every person there a drink. Would insist on eating the finest cuts of meat with the best and richest sauces. He looked tired as well, as though he was returning from a battle.

"But there were other changes as well, signs that he had been touched by something strange, almost not of this world. Uncle Palmerin described him as being able to see his veins and his nerves under the skin. He said that they almost seemed to pulse with some kind of green power beneath the tanned and healthy skin.

"And his eyes glowed a pale blue where before they were brown.

"He left the girl with the parents, stayed long enough to ensure that he was alright before he turned and walked back towards the trees. Uncle Palmerin stopped him but he refused to be turned aside.

""I must go." He said. "Let me go. The girl was the proof of her good faith and a guarantee of my return. She was a hostage released and now I must make good on my promise. Let me go, my friend and brother. The boy will be released on my return. It has been sworn by blood and by seed and I cannot forswear."

" He removed his sword from his side. "I will not need this." He said. "Give it to Guillaume, or some other Knight that will use it for Toussaint."

"Uncle Palmerin was distraught and angry. "We can rescue you." He said. "We can take whatever has taken him. You do not have to do this."

""Yes I do." Uncle Lafitte told him. "I love her you see. Look for me in the spring." And so saying, he turned and walked into the forest, removing his armour and letting it fall as he walked. Uncle Palmerin followed the trail left by the armour until he came to a clearing where the Helm had been left, as though placed carefully on the ground. They were there a matter of heartbeats before the missing boy emerged from the trees.

"The boy, like the girl, seemed a little bit older than he had been when he had gone into the trees. He looked tired more than anything, but the difference was that where the girl looked as though she had not been eating properly, gaunt to the point of sickness, the young man looked like a prime specimen. Muscled, strong, handsome. Where his parents remembered a gangly boy, he had returned to them as a man and a handsome man at that. He demanded to know the location of the girl and went to her bed side where he waited until she woke up.

"They were no longer lovers, you could tell apparently, there was no attraction to their interactions. My uncle said that they looked and behaved like comrades that had been through something horrific. They hugged each other, wept, talked, but there was no kissing, fondling or caressing. They just sat with each other and talked.

"My uncle listened to the conversation. He said that the boy had to convince the girl that they really were free. That this wasn't another illusion, or a trick, that they really were free now and that they would remain free. He told her that the Knight had sacrificed his own freedom in return for theirs. It was only then that he was finally able to convince her to eat something, to the gratitude of her parents.

"When she settled down, the story came out. The pair of them had indeed gone into the woods to explore each other's bodies and to find out what made each other tick. The boy was rather candid even, he said that although they had every intention to give the other their virginity, neither had really known what that would entail and as such, he admitted, it was actually unlikely that such a thing would happen.

"They had gone into the woods to look for a cave or a clearing or somewhere that they could lay their blankets where they wouldn't die of the cold or some other more sinister factors. But what they stumbled on was a sandy bank of soft earth that would be as comfortable as a bed and that seemed to suit their purpose even better. So they settled down and had started kissing and fondling and it was this that had attracted the Centipedes.

"I can well imagine how terrified they must have been, half dressed, tangled in shirts, skirts, trews and shawls. Naked, exposed, vulnerable. The centipedes were attacking, both of them sustained damage from the spat poison and the pincers on the beasts jaws when the girl thought she saw someone off in the trees. Calling out for help, she ran forwards while the boy tried to buy time for her safety by virtue of a swung branch or something when he described there being a flash or blue-green light and the Centipedes seemed to freeze in position. The girl was back by his size and before them both stood a woman that the boy did not know.

"He described her as being a woman of darkness. Not dark skin as when pushed he would say that she was quite pale to look at. But she had bright blue cat's eyes with vertical pupils, like a Witcher. But obviously blue eyes instead of yellow. He said that she was beautiful, but frightening with it and that she always seemed to be shrouded in some form of shadow that gave a frightening, otherworldly image to her.

"She asked what she could do to help. The girl asked her to save them and the woman laughed. "What is in it for me?" She asked. "Two, half-naked, if comely children. What do you have to offer me on this night?" The children were aghast that someone would ask for some form of reward to save them from danger and they looked at each other in dismay.

""What would you ask of me?" The boy said. "Save her, for I love her, and with me, you may do whatever you will. Ask, and if I can give it to you, I will."

"Whatever I will." The woman laughed. "Some things are not for the asking. Nor can they be so freely given. But still, let's see what we are working with." She ordered him to strip and examined him from head to toe, weighing his manhood in her hands. He was fixated on that point in particular."

"Can't think why." I muttered, unable to stop myself.

"She then took them both through a mage portal to a house. The girl was taken down into the basement and the boy… well… he was a slave to the woman's pleasure. By the time that she was done, he had given her what she had wanted and he loved her with everything that he had, even while, at the same time, he did not stop being afraid of her. The girl was a captrive against his good behaviour as the woman did not seem to believe that the boy would not leave, despite his giving his word, but the woman stated that she had known far too many good men that had given firm oaths. All of them had betrayed her and as such, she had decided not to take people's words for it and instead, to demand payment in advance.

"Instead, the boy cared for the girl as best he could, the love that they had once borne for each other was burnt out of him by the attentions of the woman, and by her from being forced to listen to what the boy endured. She would later say that the act of love did not sound pleasant when it came from the room above the basement in which she was kept.

"They were just about resigned to the fact that this was their life now. After what felt for them to be three years, the boy marked the time by the daylight in the windows, a Knight came into the clearing outside the building and demanded to know what had happened. He called the woman the Witch of Lynx Crag which had struck the boy down with terror as he now knew what he had been making love with and he was overcome. The Witch told the Knight the story of their rescue and informed him that all she was doing was extracting the fair price of her services.

"The Knight protested that the boy was far too young to know what was involved but the Witch insisted. "The boy loves me," she said smugly and demanded that "The boy" demonstrate his feelings in front of the Knight. Which, of course, he had no choice but to obey. The Knight was obviously repulsed but he seemed to be fascinated as well which amused the Witch no end.

"Then the Knight offered himself in exchange for the two youngsters. The Witch considered this before agreeing that an experienced lover might be more satisfying than an inexperienced youth. The Witch and the Knight made love to seal the deal and so the Knight was allowed to carry the girl out of the trees as proof of the Witch's good faith while the boy would remain behind in order to guarantee the Knight's return.

"He had been told to leave when the Knight came back. He wept as he said this and told my uncle that he missed her."

Guillaume rode in silence after that for a while.

"And that was that. People went to where it is known that the Witch lives. The cottage that we are riding to now, but the Witch could not be found and it would not be out of the realms of possibility for the Witch to have another home deeper in the woods where she could gather herbs for whatever ritual or magic that she was concocting. But it was said that all through that harvest season and the winter that followed it, the sounds of a woman's pleasure could be heard ringing out."

He shook his head.

"Did your Uncle come back in the spring?" I wondered.

"He did. In the middle of spring, around the time of the Equinox, an old man was found wandering around the local areas. Tottering around with the aid of an old walking stick. He was quite mad, wrapped in what remained of an old tunic that had long since gone to rot and ruin. Uncle Palmerin was called and arrived just in time to see Uncle Lafitte die of old age and exhaustion. They knew who it was due to a birthmark. But in the few months that he had been missing, a hale and hearty man in his prime had withered away to a husk."

"And what happened to the other people in the story?"

Guillaume laughed suddenly. "Tell me Freddie, do any of your friends ever get annoyed or frustrated by your constant efforts to chronicle their every word."

"More than somewhat." I told him. "I leave that bit out of my chronicles on the grounds that it would get boring after a while."

"I can see that. The girl could not summon any interest in marriage to anyone. She went through with the marriage to the Cooper that the father had arranged before their little adventure, but the thought of physical congress disgusted and terrified her. Eventually, the marriage was annulled due to the sickness of the woman and her," Guillaume sneered. "Inability to behave as a wife should. The dowry was returned, minus the sums that had already been spent on the Cooper's business. The rest of the dowry was used as a donation so that the girl could join a nunnery. A cruel result in my opinion, but apparently, she went quietly and contentedly.

"The boy went to work at the Belle's in Beauclair. He was beautiful to look at by that point and I'm told that anyone that finds male beauty attractive would swoon to see him. He made, and continues to make as far as I know, his money from allowing ladies to order him around in the bed chamber. Nothing is too debasing for him and as far as anyone is aware, the more degrading the thing he is ordered to do, the more arousing he finds it. It has made him quite wealthy apparently."

"And is that your Uncle's sword?" I gestured at the blade at Guillaume's side.

He laughed. "No. I found that sword too heavy for my taste. If you need weight in a weapon then use a mace or a hammer. A sword needs to be heavy enough to be durable but light enough to maneuver and it was too heavy for what I wanted from a sword."

"The right tools for the right job." I commented. Kerrass would agree.

"It's a beautiful blade and I am pleased to say that Planchet prefers a heavier blade so I intend to give it to him when he's old enough to take his place. The sword deserves to be used in defence of the Duchy."

I nodded.

"So, tell me if I'm wrong. But this Witch seems rather sinister. Why would Lady Vasseur go there? She seems, from accounts, to be a rather sensible and down to earth kind of girl."

"And she would be. The Witch lives at the top of Lynx Crag. There are many stories like mine. Geralt tells the story of his run in with the Witch where she had cursed a young lady to take the form of a tree. This, out of spite for the fact that the Witch's then lover had promised to marry the young lady in question. The lover was said to be a Knight and had seduced the Witch… Lord Geralt tells it better so you should ask him.

"But as I say, there are many stories. A beautiful woman of red hair that lives on the crag. Served by panthers and the Lynx that are native to that area of Toussaint. She is said to prefer the company of women over men, unless the men are beautiful or handsome to look at. She is also known to help out women, especially younger girls, who ask for her aid. She takes a certain amount of delight in thwarting the schemes of pompous men. There is always a price for her help, it rarely ends entirely well for the person asking for help and any man that goes up there to try and banish her or drive her off, ends up either in her bed, or otherwise cursed to a horrible fate."

"A horrible fate?"

Guillaume scratched his chin in discomfort. "Have you ever heard of the Black Lion pox?"

"That's the version of The Pox that has been all but eradicated. Sends a man to madness and death while his genitals rot from the inside."

"That's the one. One man went up there to demand she leave, intending to drive her off. He came down the crag delirious with the illness. It was awful, but in comparison to the original disease, it was not contagious. She is deeply sinister, has a weak spot for wronged women, but otherwise prefers her solitude. She is the boogeyman in the wild."

"And this is where we're going? I knew I was supposed to have a good look around Toussaint but it sounds like you're taking me to the really pleasant places."

Guillaume laughed at me.

We rode a little further before I was forced to admit. "I have more questions."

"I thought you might." Guilaume seemed to have forgiven me my earlier flippancy,

"How long has she been up there?"

"What do you mean?"

"How long has there been a Witch that people tell stories of?"

"Oh. No-one has quite figured it out but it's a long time. There are stories of a woman like her being in the area from as far back as the founding of the Duchy. One of those early, nameless Knights that carved Toussaint out from the barren wasteland of banditry and monsters was said to be her lover. One of the few that have known her and known her favour consistently over the time that she has been around. After that?" He shrugged. "There are always stories about her. She will go off and we won't hear anything from her for a year, a decade at most, and then someone will see her somewhere, walking through the trees and gathering her herbs and fungi. Someone will say that they met her or that some girl goes to her little house to beg for her help with a spurned lover."

"So is this the same woman?" I wondered. "Or is the story of the Witch of Lynx Crag just a convenient alias used by magical women since time immemorial?"

"It's impossible to say of course. As is the suggestion that it's actually a line of women, mother to daughter that pass everything down through the generations. A code of conduct that they must obey."

"I find that less likely." I told him, my historian's brain already coming up with answers to that. "Where there is one child there is always more, gender cannot be identified or guaranteed by birth, so where are the sons of such unions? Also, it is well known that magic makes the practitioners of magic infertile so…" I shrugged. "It's a long time for such a secret to carry on without someone noticing and remarking on it. Same as with the story of the Duchess having a secret child. Where is the midwife? A witch wouldn't depend on luck for her own birth without risk and if that was the case, then the secret will have gotten out eventually."

"Do you have a habit of spoiling all the fun stories when they come up?" Guillaume wondered. "Sometimes a story is just a story and it is fun for people to sit around camp fires or gather in knots at parties in order to discuss theories."

"Yes it is." I admitted. "And yes I do have that habit. It's part of my job to look for the truth behind such stories. Kerrass drilled such thinking into my brain as well during our journeys together. It is one of those surprising things that you only find out when you have actually been on the path for a certain amount of time with a Witcher. That is that the life of a Witcher can be incredibly monotonous. There is almost never a unique monster. Sooner or later, someone will give over a piece of information, or tell a story that will make Kerrass go…" I clicked my fingers in the traditional AH-HA gesture. "It's a… this. Then the story teller is always disappointed that you're just dealing with a common, garden variety Cockatrice or Noon-wraith. Then they try and reduce the reward on the grounds that it being so common a monster means that they don't need to offer quite as much money."

Guillaume considered this for a while.

"Why has there never been a concerted effort to drive her off?" I wondered. "Toussaint is not short of mages, armed people or influence. Mage-hunters would love a crack at something like this. Either the Nilfgaardian variety for bringing the Witch to their training towers, or the Northern Variety as an example of the evils that magic-users can do. There are ways that such a being can be… dealt with."

"Yes there are." Guillaume mused. "There are ways and yes we could go up there in force. There are some problems though, one of those problems is that she is rarely at home. The number of times that people have gone up there to try and talk to her, or to drive her off as you suggest, only to find her home deserted and all but empty. And the cave under her home being obviously used as a den for animals rather than the laboratory and herbarium that people claim to have seen before. As to foreign aid?"

He clicked his tongue.

"Toussaint likes to think of itself as self-sufficient and neither the Duchess or any of her predecessors have ever seen fit to change that policy. The danger is that if we ask for outside help then those same outsiders will start to believe that they have a right to meddle in our affairs. As evidenced, admittedly for the better, when the Empress decided that the old system of the Knights Errant was no longer working."

"I can see that, but have there not been sufficient rumours to bring these people here anyway?"

"Yes and no. Sooner or later, people find it easy to dismiss anything that they hear coming out of Toussaint on the grounds that it's Toussaint. The land of fairy-tales. They just assume, like you did, that the Witch is just a simple herb-woman that might know a little bit more about certain things than the average person in the street."

"Ok, I deserved that."

"Yes you did."

We rode on in silence for a bit longer which meant that I was startled from a thought process when Guillaume started speaking again.

"There is another reason that we don't go up there in force. A slightly more sinister and political reason. One of those reasons that we don't really talk about, but I have been left with the genuine belief that I am not the only person that has seen this result. We don't go after her because we might succeed in driving her off. It is useful, politically speaking, for there to be a villain, a reminder that what is out there is often more than mere bandits or commonly identifiable monsters that can be destroyed by a Witcher's blade or a Knight's lance. It is unifying to have something or someone that everyone fears, from the most powerful noble all the way down to the lowliest peasant.

"And also, it means that men treat their women better. That fear that, if they mistreat their lovers, daughters or wives, then the woman can always go to the Witch of Lynx Crag and get a small measurement of revenge. I think that this idea appeals to the Duchess. And I can't speak for everyone, but I was certainly warned as such by my father when I started properly wooing, or attempting to woo, the lady that is now my wife."

I considered this. "What a depressing thought." I said eventually. "That people need a goad in order to behave properly and decently."

Guillaume snorted in scorn.

"Oh come now Freddie. As a Scholar you would know that most of what all of the Churches, from the Northern Kreve, Redania's Eternal Flame and the South's Great and mighty Sun. The prophets, Melitele and all the rest down to the small shrine and little Gods and Goddesses of individual villages. Just about all of what they teach us to do is based, not on what the God or spirit might or might not want, but in telling people how to behave. Including when it comes to how men should treat their women."

"Some of those religions are not very complimentary on how men should treat their women." I commented.

"No, but it is still a code of behaviour enforced by unseen, supernatural stories. What did the Eternal Fire ever say about the treatment of… I don't know… Children. I've read that holy book of yours and most of those rules were made up long after the Eternal Fire was first discovered and that the guardian spirit first spoke to the people that found it. After that, there is a lot of extrapolation and interpretation involved."

"You are not wrong." I agreed. "The difference being that the Eternal Fire is supposed to be inspirational, whereas this figure of the Witch is like a parent raising their fist to a child and saying "Go to bed or else.""

"Again, I must call you out on that." Guillaume replied. "Does not the Eternal Fire use it's own version of that fear? "Follow the Eternal Flame." they say, "or suffer eternal damnation where the flames burn your flesh and bone away."

I shifted in my saddle uncomfortably. It is never nice to be beaten at your own game. Especially by a person to whom you had underestimated when it comes to their debating skills.

There is another lesson. Similar to the thing that I have said many times, and will continue to say so long as there are people that need to learn the lesson, where a lack of education does not mean a lack of intelligence. There is also a danger of feeling the arrogance of one type of education over another. Guillaume is a Knight. He knows more about swords and weapons and horses and tactics and strategies than I will ever know. But I had assumed that this would mean that his thinking processes would not have involved much debating skills or on the matter of philosophy. I had subverted him before when we had first begun to get to know each other and I had assumed that it would be easy to do so again. How wrong was I.

During this conversation, just one of those conversations that you share with people in order to pass the time while watching the road be pounded out underneath the hooves of our horses, the sun began to sink towards the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, the reds, golds and oranges of that descent behind the mountains bathing Toussaint in an otherworldly light. It was at times like this that I could absolutely understand the Nilfgaardian urge to worship the sun as they did. What it did to the trees and hills of the Toussaint that we were moving through was to create a false illusion of summer. The sun shined and was reflected off the small ice crystals that had formed on the grass, the leaves of the trees and the fences that lined the way.

We were climbing, Guillaume leading us, unerringly and without hesitation through the tracks, the pathways and hunting trails onto a small road that looped around the back of things. If we had been on any other errand I would have been fascinated by what I was being shown. I felt that I was seeing the back end of Toussaint. The part where the work really takes place. This was not the area where beautiful people gathered in posh dresses and ornate masks to dance the night away. This was the part of Toussaint where people worked, sweated and drove themselves hard to tear some form of living from the ground.

"It's a similar feeling to when you walk around the docks on the other side of Oxenfurt. Not the side where the bigger ships can dock, the side where Emma is building the new docks or that King Radovid moored his royal barge. But the other side. Where men moor the fishing boats and those smaller barges that carry sacks of grain and horse feed from the fields just over the river. The place that has no prestige, no fame or beauty about it. Just men and women working hard. Seeing the world by the Tradesman's entrance or seeing the support struts of a city, or a country.

Normally I would have enjoyed such a moment. It is in these places and at these times when you are not looking at the face that a place shows you, that you find what really drives a society. But all I could see was the sun sinking towards the horizon and therefore bringing the next attack from the Jack killers all that much closer. I found myself wondering about them. Had they already chosen a victim? Did they have a stand-by option in case that first victim fell through and couldn't be found?

I felt sure that the girl that we were looking for had made it onto the Killers' list. And if we found her then maybe we could thwart that effort, but if she wasn't, or they didn't know where she was, then would they kill someone else in order to preserve the image that it was Jack doing these killings? Then who was their target going to be?

Such thoughts are useless but there is no helping a brain when it decides to lead you off on these kinds of tangents. Sometimes you just have to ride these things out and let yourself go with them. To be fair though, sometimes they might lead you to an insight that wouldn't normally have occurred otherwise.

We came to a fence next to a steep, rocky hill and Guillaume dismounted.

"Tie your horse here, we go the rest of the way on foot."

"Lovely. Where are we going?"

"You can just about see the cottage on the rise up there." He pointed and I could indeed, just make out the shape of a house, there was a light coming from a window.

"Looks like she's home." I commented before turning back and examining the trail. "I don't look forward to coming back down that in the dark."

"I have torches." Guillaume told me.

I was not reassured and told him so. Funny how he didn't really pay any attention to my objections.

The climb was not particularly difficult as these things go and it was an odd slope, in that it was going to be much harder to go up than it would be to come down.

I have just re-read that sentence and realised how stupid it is but it is important to realise our own faults and accept them.

What I meant was that we could climb, there were several jumps and things which, while not particularly difficult, even for me or Guillaume in his full armour, still needed to be made to make the climb. If we missed, which we both did on a couple of attempts, it would not have led to any permanent injury except to our mutual pride. Which, to be honest, deserved to be injured. All it meant was that we had to climb back up and attempt the jump again. On the way down we could easily just jump off the ledges and nothing bad would happen.

That's not to say that it was an entirely comfortable climb. I was highly aware that we were being watched as we climbed. The last rays of the setting sun were reflected by eyes that watched us cautiously. To the point that we had to have one of us watching out in case of attack while the other laboured up the slope. But the watchers did not move, they just kept their eyes on us as we came, watching and waiting.

Eventually we came to a plateau. Ahead of us was the gaping maw of a cave mouth but the path was visible that would snake round and lead us up to the cabin. There was also another path leading off and down into the forest below us which left me feeling a little annoyed as that path looked far more gentle than the one we had just dragged ourselves up.

"Cave or house?" I wondered while I got my breath back.

"My vote is house." Guillaume said. "I rather think that this is one of those times where we might live or die according to our sense of courtesy. If the house is empty we can come back down and search the cave."

I nodded, I had been leaning in that direction myself but I couldn't resist a joke.

"I was hoping that we could avoid any more climbing."

"I will have to speak to Kerrass regarding your stamina training as I believe that you have been neglecting it."

"I've been sick, remember." I started to lead the way.

"And you should have taken care to warm yourself up gently rather than just leaping into matters and expecting yourself and your body to behave the same way that it always had."

We were both nervous and humour is always the first defence of the nervous. Kerrass would not be nervous. He would be resigned and annoyed at my urge to make jokes in this situation. Unfair of me to compare the two companions but sometimes comparisons are inevitable.

We arrived before the door of the cabin and surveyed it. Guillaume told me to wait while he walked around the outside and I had the chance to study the building properly. It was old, very old. I have no way of being able to tell how old but the wood that made up the walls and roof was clearly well worn by the elements. Moss and ivy climbed up the walls in the kind of growths that spoke about much time spent with the leaves climbing over each other. At one corner of the house I could see a small patch of wood that was sprouting in various forms of fungi,

There were other signs of activity. A wood axe was buried in a nearby stump next to a pile of wood rounds and the stack against the side of the house was not small. There were also skinning and tanning stands there that were currently unused and covered with a hide that I did not recognise.

But the thing that made my skin crawl were the charms that had been hung around the house. I didn't get close to them to properly have a look but they were certainly made from bones. Small bones at that. Some of them had clearly been cleaned of whatever they had been part of while others still had unidentifiable stains at either end.

I shuddered. Then I found myself wondering if there was actually any mystical significance of those charms. There was one of two possibilities at work here. The first was that this woman was a genuinely supernatural creature. Whether a Sorceress in hiding over the years or some other kind of Hedge witch that was in the process of staying away from the Witch hunters in either direction. That would mean that these charms had real power and that we would be foolish to interfere with a woman like this.

The other option was the one that I had first suggested. That this was a wise woman, or a chain of women that had taken the name of the Witch of Lynx Crag in an effort to protect herself. Which meant that the charms and other signs of mystical defence were entirely fraudulent and that we had nothing to fear from simply booting down the door and seeing what was inside.

Except that, Guillaume was right. That would be discourteous.

The man himself came back round the house, caught my eye and shook his head.

I nodded. He either couldn't see inside or there was nothing to see.

"The Light's still on." I commented uselessly.

"Of course it is." He said. "So what now?"

"I dunno?" I scratched my chin, again noticing that my beard was growing through and itching. "Knock?"

Guillaume shrugged and led me towards the front door where he did as I had suggested.

The door swung open at his strike with the most cliched and stereotypical groan of a hinge that I have ever heard. It was so much that it was almost comical.

"Hello?" Guillaume called. "Anyone home?"

There was light enough to see by and so Guillaume led the way inside. "My name is Sir Guillaume de Launfal." He said, loudly and clearly making sure that there could be no confusion about what was going on. "With me is Lord Frederick von Coulthard. We are looking for Lady Vasseur as we are concerned for her safety."

The interior of the cabin continued to present the same dichotomy. On the one hand there were the signs of human habitation that left the place looking quite homely. There was a sink next to an old dwarven, or Gnomic, water pump. There was a fire that was burning fairly brightly that provided most of the light to see by. There was a pot over the fire that was steaming gently. I could see some stores of wild onions, wild garlic, cabbages and turnips as well as a Ham that was hanging, a pair of game birds that were likewise hanging from a stand as well as some carrots that were stacked together in an alcove.

I could see a few books, one of which was open next to what looked to be an alchemy station which had some charcoal drawings in. I took it to be a recipe book or herbarium of some kind. There was more wood stacked against the wall that would be drying out inside. There was also a work table, a spinning wheel and a small bed off to one side against the back wall that was neatly and precisely made.

But then there was the other side of things.

The same charms that were on the outside of the house were also dotted around the room. The bed was inside a circle of chalk, the inside of which contained some kind of arcane symbol that I did not recognise. There were candles dotted around that circle.

There were also a pair of human skulls that were placed on the floor, facing each other. They were surrounded by Mistletoe and Holly wreathes as well as some stain that was underneath them that looked like blood. The skulls were scrupulously clean.

Most foreboding to me, was the deer skull that was nailed to the walls along with a huge rack of antlers still attached.

I blinked.

There was smoke on the air, I could hear the screaming of Father Hacha being tortured to death. The calls of men fighting and the charging hoofbeats of a monster on horseback, sharp claws that glittered in the firelight, reaching for my flesh and my own blood. And the face of Lord Cavill, head dress casting huge shadows that, as they crossed my vision, froze my bones to marrow.

He was laughing.

I blinked again.

"Freddie." Guillaume was at my side, hand on my shoulder, resting gently. "Are you alright? You look like… forgive me but you look like you saw a ghost."

I found some humour from somewhere. "I have seen ghosts." I said. "Normally they are less terrifying. What I saw was the past, out of nowhere, the memories come at me like… Like a lance to the chest."

He nodded. "Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah, Just need a moment to get my breath back."

The shadows seemed to lengthen and deepen. The fire did not die bown but it was as though the fire itself radiated darkness instead of light. The flames themselves seemed to us to be dancing flowers of darkness.

"You are not alright." Said a very female voice. I'm sorry, I don't know how else to describe it. "You will never be alright again. There will be days and nights where you go without the images and the memories intruding into your life and you will think that you are saved, that you are redeemed. But in the end, the dreams will return and you will finally give in to despair. You will never be alright again. That is your doom, your destiny and nothing that you say, or do will save you from this." The voice echoed off the walls, as though the speaker was, at the same time, stood right next to me, and yet also, far away.

There was a woman in the corner of the room. It was the strangest feeling, neither of us had seen her but at the same time, it was clear that she had always been there. It was as though she simply stepped forward into our vision. Saying that she was beautiful seems a little redundant. I have never met a user of magic that wasn't beautiful in some way, regardless of whether they are male or female. But she was beautiful and oh so sinister.

It was all a trick of the light. A trick of the shadows that danced over her form that made her so. Her teeth seemed to have been filed down to points. Her cheeks seemed to be sunken into the bones and her eyes glittered with amusement and scorn from the depths of hollow sockets. She was tall, or rather she seemed to be tall at the time and her chin was raised in the way that nobles have. That particular way that leaves you feeling as though certain members of the nobility are looking down at you, even while you might be taller than them. It was the same kind of thing.

She had long, almost curly red hair with just some strands of grey at her temples even though I would not put her age at much above twenty. She was wearing a Green dress that looked to be made out of some kind of dyed leather that was belted in such a way to emphasise her slim waist. She also had brown leather trews on underneath that were tucked inside some hardy looking boots.

She wore a shoulder mantle of dark brown fur. There was no shape to the fur but it felt like some kind of predator's hide. It made me think of a wolf, a bear or one of the Lynxes that gave the crag its name.

I was reminded of several things. The first thing that she reminded me of was of a Goddess in a circle of fire.

I blinked.

The beautiful hard, naked woman rising above me as she laughed and shook in her ecstasy. The firelight making her skin glow red and orange.

I blinked again.

She was that kind of arousing and beautiful mixed with abject terror that came with it. She was frightening in her power. But there was also something about her that seemed sad. This was a woman that seemed to be lashing out, as though she was angry because she had been hurt so many times. To the point that, as well as being terrifying, there was an urge to hold her. To protect her and tell her that everything was going to be alright.

I blinked.

It was raining, I could smell the damp in the air. The smell of wet leaves, trees and moss as I stood in front of a mountain of thicket. Brambles, thorns and other things that I did not recognise. Ariadne hid inside that bush and she was weeping.

I blinked again.

I shook my head to try and clear it.

"You will never be free." The woman said. "What brings a Knight of Francesca and a Northern Lord to my doorstep. A Northern Lord that I feel as though I should know. Speak quickly, my patience is not without limit."

Guillaume was looking at me, concern clear in his eyes.

"Don't look at him, look at me." The woman, the Witch snapped at him. "Tell me why you are here before I cause you to eat each other."

Guillaume drew himself up to his full height, which is not small. "I come here, Madam, in order to protect Lady Vasseur who we have reason to believe is in your care. She has information that makes her vulnerable to our enemies that are scourging the land at this time, causing all the people of Toussaint to cower in fear at the mention of the name, "Jack". We seek to thwart them. Not only in their killing of the people of Toussaint, but also to remove the threat to Lady Vasseur."

"Lady Vasseur?" The Witch's eyebrows rose up towards her hairline. "Lady Vasseur. Interesting. So her father is dead then." She laughed, stopped, stared into space for a moment as her eyes seemed to unfocus before she laughed again. From somewhere, both far away and yet close to us, the sound of grief came clear in a wailing denial.

As it always does in these kinds of situations, my mouth decided that my mind had completely disintegrated and it just started speaking.

"That was cruel." I said. "You have just told her that. You just told a young lady that her father was dead."

"Such matters are best dealt with quickly." The Witch hissed. "Tear the binding off quickly. The pain will be more intense but in such matters there are reminders that you are still alive."

She considered something.

"What will you do with her?" She said. "Marry her off to some young princeling that will flatter her, seduce her and then set her aside the moment that her looks begin to fade and her hair loses its luster. Make her some rich man's mistress so that no-one will ever think of her ever again?" She shook her head and grinned horribly. "I think not."

"Such matters are not for us to decide." I said.

"I cannot speak for Lord Frederick," Guillaume said at almost the same time. "But my intention is to take her to a place of safety, ask for her story and then move on from there. As to her long term fate, those decisions will be made by much wiser heads than ours."

"The Duchess you mean." The Witch sneered.

"Have a care." Guillaume warned. "Witch you may be, powerful you may be, but if you insult the Duchess then I will ensure that you answer for it."

"How about if I insult your wife?" The Witch taunted. "Would you give me another warning then?"

"No." Guillaume told her. "If you insulted my wife then your head would already be rolling across the floor of your hovel." He did not hide his anger well.

The Witch laughed. "You will betray her of course. Men always do."

"Never."

"How naive he is." The Witch turned to me. "You know the truth do you not Lord Frederick." She made the title sound like an insult. "The truth that all it takes for a man to be unfaithful is the right combination of drugs, opportunity and closeness."

"I do know that." I said. "Just as I know that it is just as true for women as it is for men."

I blinked.

I was alone in an Oxenfurt street. In my dreams it is always raining in this memory but the truth was that it was a fine night. I had just left the tavern after seeing the girl who had promised me that she would never leave me sitting astride a town handsome man and allowing him to pour wine over her chest where he had licked it off. Later, I would never remember the event other than the fact that it had happened, but the emergence into the cool night air afterwards as my life seemed to fall apart. That, I will never forget.

I blinked again. But this time I knew what was happening. My fists clenched, my jaw tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory until the feelings of shame, heartbreak and sullen anger threatened to overwhelm my senses.

And just as quickly as it came on. It was over.

The Witch looked at me angrily as I took a deep breath. "Furthermore." I said, forcing my heart to calm it's racing. "I also know that a righteous person would avoid the situations where they might be tempted into faithlessness."

If anything, she seemed to get angrier, but I found that I could not stop talking.

"If they know that they are in a situation where there is a person that they are attracted to, it is as simple as not having too much to drink. Avoiding any situation where private intimacy might occur and if necessary, avoid the situation altogether. I agree that there is always a risk that nature might take its course. But there are ways of thwarting nature, if you decide that that's what you want to do."

"You are a fool," She snarled. "Both of you. Romantic fools. Neither of you really know the pain of heartbreak."

She spun around on the spot twice, hair and dress flying out before spitting at us.

"I deny your request." She snarled. "I have promised the girl that I would keep her safe and I am not confident of your abilities to do so."

"And how will you keep her safe?" Guillaume asked.

"She will be kept here." She gestured and some of the shadows seemed to retreat from a corner of the room and there was the girl as she had been described to us. She was sat on the floor, her hands manacled above her head. It was clear that her wrists were bruised and bleeding as she sobbed in her grief and fear. She was about three feet from Guillaume's feet and we hadn't seen her.

"A prisoner." Guillaume sneered. "How is that keeping her safe?"

"She will stay here." The Witch said, "Quiet, safe, she will never be a playing piece in the schemes and machinations of this court or that one. She will stay here. She will be fed, clothed and watered. I may even educate her depending on how well she behaves. But she will never leave this place. She wanted to be kept safe. From the man she loves and the men who would use her. That includes you. Do not pretend any different. Do not pretend that you would even have considered her plight if she had not been in possession of the things you need to know."

"You have twisted her words and you know it." I accused. I tried to catch the girls eyes to show her that I was sorry for what I must say next. "She is just a child and she did not have the wit to deal with you as a more experienced mind would."

"And still you are naive and stupid as well. Girls her age have been getting themselves into this kind of trouble since time began. A handsome face, hard lean muscles, fine words whispered in the moonlight." Her voice softened towards the end of her little speech as she seemed to be lost in some kind of memory. Then she shook herself and her anger and scorn had returned. "These are the weapons of the men of the world and they cut deep. So deep that they do not even leave a scar."

And now she was on the edge of tears.

"They come to me." She sobbed. "They come to me and they demand a potion, a pill, a spell, something, anything that will make that shame go away." Her eyes hardened. "No-one ever tells them that they are too young to make that kind of decision do they. No-one ever tells them that they should keep their legs closed, or tell their fathers that send them that they should fuck off if they do not think there is any shame in what they do."

She smiled then.

"A good effort as these things go." She said. "A very good effort. But fruitless. Appealing to my motherly instincts are useless. I burnt them from my soul years ago. The girl stays here. I will honour the original agreement... She will be kept safe, secret, and far away. I will take her this very night, deep into the wilderness where no-one will ever find her." The shadows lengthened again so that we could just see the outline of The Witch's shape, the end of her nose and the edge of her cheeks.

I could see her smile, and hear the girl whimpering.

"I will keep her safe." She said again.

"Surely," Guillaume began before I could stop him. A sudden insight struck me about what he was about to say. "Surely there is a way, something we could do, some favour that you could ask that we might be able to achieve for you. Something that we could do to pay for her freedom."

She tilted her head on one side. And the shadows retreated for a moment. "What price would I set?" She mused. "Are you trying to bribe me Sir Knight?"

"What?"

"Are you trying to make me go against my honour?"

Guillaume reddened. "I would never…"

"I gave my word sir." She screeched although I rather thought that she was toying with him. "I gave my word that I would keep her safe and sending her off with you is hardly doing that."

Guillaume spluttered.

"Or," She carried on. Driving the dagger home with her words. "Are you trying to suggest that your honour is worth more than mine."

She laughed nastily. "Ah, I had forgotten how much fun it is to play with an honourable man."

And the atmosphere of the room changed. The light lowered, to a dull red, the girl seemed to vanish to the point that I could only see her if I really concentrated on it and because I knew she was there. My eyes kept trying to find ways to slide off the patch of floor that I knew her to be.

I started to get a headache.

I also came to realise, as though I had forgotten, that the Witch was an extremely attractive woman. She seemed to sway towards Guillaume until she was standing face to face with him. The room had a smell, like the perfume of a really good brothel, with just the right mix of herbs to make a man think of sex.

"I know what you can do for me." She purred, running her fingers up Guillaume's chest plate. "You can prove me right. You can prove that all a man needs is attraction, opportunity and…" There was a bottle in her hands out of nowhere, and a tray with three cups. "And suitable narcotic encouragement."

She poured and the smell of strong plum alcohol wafted into the air.

"One, or both of you." She said. "Prove me right. However you wish. Love me and the girl is yours."

I found that I was looking at her heaving bosom and that my mouth was dry.

"No." I said, tearing my eyes away.

"Never." Guillaume said at almost the same time, looking as stricken as I felt. He took a quick, jerky step backwards. "I swore my oaths to my wife and I will not betray her."

"Who are you betraying?" She wondered, her voice soft and smooth like good dark honey. "No-one need know. Not your wife," She said to him before turning to me and taking a step towards me. "Not your betrothed. All you have to do is to keep this secret and neither of them will ever know."

"I would know." Guillaume said. "I would know and I will not betray her, my honour or myself."

I forced some saliva into my mouth so that I could swallow. "Nor I."

She was angry again.

"And we would not be betraying anyone." I told her. "You would have forced the action. I would even guess that my own love would understand if I took up your offer in order to save an innocent. As would, I guess, the wife of my friend. They would be hurt, they would be upset, but they would understand. I cannot speak for Guillaume, but that is one of the reasons why I love my lady and it is precisely why I would never betray her."

"Well said." Guillaume told me.

"You doom this girl to torment and imprisonment at my hands." The Witch snarled, her fury and hurt making her beautiful features ugly. "I am angry now and I will keep her safe. She will never see the sun again as I keep her in a cave so dark that she will even forget what the sky looks like. To save her from this kind of torment. That is the kind of torment that you are leaving her to if you do not do as I ask."

"If we do not do as you demand." I countered, gripping my spear.

"And the decision is yours. Not ours." Guillaume told her. "You are the one that is keeping her here. You are the one that denies her these things. Not us. The torment of the girl is not on our shoulders but yours. And I would argue that safety includes freedom. As health requires air and light and people and…"

"ENOUGH." She bellowed. The shadows seemed to lengthen behind her and the background of the cottage seemed to fade away until all we were seeing was her. And she seemed more real than life itself.

"You will serve me." She cackled. "You will love me and I shall love you and when I am done with you you will be naught but withered husks that I shall discard into the cess pits."

She gestured again and I felt my spear grow hot until I dropped it. My manhood hardened to a painful degree and I found my fingers working at the buckles to undo my armour.

"No." I protested. "NO!" I shrugged off my armoured coat.

"Yes." The Witch hissed. "And you will watch from inside your own head as you betray your love over and over and over again."

I felt my mind trying to retreat from it. I tried to fight it, thinking of Ariadne, her face, her shape, her voice. But that wasn't enough. I reached for more detail. The sound of her laughter, the sound of her tears, the strange, slightly pinker shade that her lips had from normal people, the way she covered her mouth when she smiled except when caught by surprise which I loved to do. The feel of her lips on mine and the strange, wonderful scent of her skin.

There was a sound like a thunderclap and I collapsed to my knees, the false sense of lust gone from my mind, Guillaume was next to me, frantically shaking his head to clear it as he bent to check on me.

There was an odd sound that echoed around the cottage and it took me some time for my vision to clear and I realised that it was the sound of a woman choking.

"Really Freddie, why do I always find you at the mercy of other beautiful women." Ariadne said with a slight smile.

I laughed in relief.

Where she had come from or how she had got there, I had no idea. But there she was. In a simple cream travellers dress with trews and boots underneath. She had a travelling satchel at her side and a leather hood around her shoulders. Her hair was tied back in a plait and in the heat of that moment she had never looked so beautiful in all the time of knowing her as she stood there smiling at me.

At the end of her outstretched hand, the Witch dangled from the floor as Ariadne held her by the neck, apparently without effort. The Witch tugged at the hand that held her fruitlessly. The air-flow was not entirely restricted and she wheezed.

"You? But you're dead."

"No." Ariadne told her. "Merely imprisoned. Which you would have known if you had taken time to look out from your own little domain. I was imprisoned and now I am free."

"These men are mine." The Witch hissed, still struggling with Ariadne's grip while I concentrated on breathing in and out. I looked up and realised that I could see the girl again without it being too much of an effort. "They came to bargain and that made them mine."

"I know the old rules." Ariadne told her, the Witch was kicking out at her now but she might as well have been kicking stone for all the effect it seemed to have on Ariadne. "And you have gotten away with twisting those rules to your own purposes for far too long. They did not come to bargain at all. They came to rescue someone. You forced the bargain when you gave them no other option. But even were that not the case, even were you to argue that a bargain is still a bargain, then still it would not be fitting. The price you ask is not theirs to give for their heart already belongs to others. They cannot wrong you, it is you who are wronging them."

"What are these mortals to you?" The Witch asked, seeming to begin to tire.

"Why," Ariadne's smile became a little softer and a little more genuine as she looked over her shoulder at me. "I love one of them."

"And that love has made you weak." The Witch snarled, no trace of her former weakness. With one hand she gestured at the fire and the flames seemed to be sucked towards her hand in almost a reverse of the way that Kerrass throws sparks when he uses his "Igni" sign. Then the Witch brought her hands together and spun the flames in a ball of flame before bringing the same hands back and pushed her palms through the ball.

A streak of fire shot from the ball and struck Ariadne in the midriff sending her flying backwards to where she hit the back wall of the cottage before sliding to the floor. There was a notable splintering sound and the place where Ariadne struck had a notable indent where the boards had broken.

The fire had gone out, plunging the cottage into darkness.

But I could smell burning.

"Guillaume?" I whispered.

"I am here."

"So if I kill you." The Witch growled. "Then I can take at least that one for myself."

A gentle ball of white light floated to the ceiling from where Ariadne had stood up from the wreckage of the shelves that she had struck. She seemed utterly uninjured although her dress was smouldering and burning in some places. She slapped at the flames impatiently.

"He must be some catch to have made the Spider Queen of Legend take one of the… what was it your people used to call them? "Cattle?" as lovers."

"He is special." Ariadne said.

Guillaume's face shone in the silvery white light. He was sweating. I don't think I looked any better. He gestured with his head towards the girl who was pulling at her chains again. I nodded and we started to crawl towards her as softly and quietly as we could.

The Witch shouted something in a language that I did not understand and again, pushed her hands forward as if sending a wave of water forward in a lake. This time it was a stream of green, hissing liquid that spat and bubbled when it dripped onto the floor.

Ariadne gestured and a shimmering golden barrier leapt up to block the stream so that it spattered onto the floor eating through the floor boards.

"He is special." Ariadne said again. "He makes mistakes sometimes, he misjudges things and has a tendency to leap before talking it out with the people that love him. But eventually he comes right."

The Witch gestured again and a wind broke up and swept towards Ariadne who braced herself and leant into the wind, shielding her eyes against the wind. The boards of the cabin began to creak and moan under the onslaught. There was an ominous cracking sound.

We had reached the girl.

"We've come to help you." I told her while Guillaume examined the manacles.

"And who's going to help you?" The girl asked, angrily brushing her tears aside.

"Her." I gestured over my shoulder towards Ariadne.

"There's no lock or hinge." Guillaume said, drawing a dagger. "The metal is fused, we'll need a blacksmith to get them off." He attacked the wall and the bracket with his dagger, trying to get it free. Wood chips began to fly.

"Part of the secret to attracting a good man," Ariadne was having to shout to be heard over the wind. "Is to let him have his freedom. If you smother your man, you will drive him away."

The Witch screamed in fury and gestured to the sky. A bolt of lightning came down, the blast of thunder deafening us and driving Guillaume and I to the floor. The Witch caught it in her hand and threw it at Ariadne where it, again, struck the shimmering golden shield.

The roof began to tear away in the wind.

"Do not tell me how to keep a man." The Witch snarled. "What do you know about keeping a man?"

Ariadne seemed to consider this before shrugging. "Quite a lot it would seem."

And I thought that the Witch had been angry before. She literally howled and this time she simply hurled her hands at Ariadne as though they contained something. She stood there, screaming, howling, bellowing her rage and her hatred at Ariadne and it manifested in a strange, black, purple stream of energy that impacted onto Ariadne's shimmering golden shield.

Ariadne staggered.

Guillaume's dagger broke. "I can't lever it free." He screamed at me. "It's in deep and it broke my best steel. I'm going to have to hack it free."

We had long since given up trying to be quiet.

"Here." I bellowed as loud as I could over the screams from the Witch, the awful cacophony of raw, hate fuelled magic impacting on a shield and the shrieking as the wood from the cabin started to tear itself apart. "Viper Steel." I handed over my belly Knife.

"It might break."

"Then I'll get Letho to make me a new one. We don't have much time."

Guillaume stopped arguing and set to work trying to lever the bracket free. Almost immediately, the Viper forged blade started to make a difference and Guillaume laughed in surprise and joy as the first nail pinged free.

The Witch was laughing in triumph now. "You made a mistake, Parasite." She crowed. "You should have been on the attack, the first chance you had. Instead you wasted time on summoning light. You do not need it and all you did was waste time and give me an opening."

"And that is why you will always fail." Ariadne told her as the magical energy started to push on her shield. "The light was not for me, nor was it for you."

"Your shield is buckling Leech. It will not last much longer."

"Nor will your spell." Ariadne told her through gritted teeth.

"I always had more power than you."

"You were not alone in that. However, I have spent the last several hundred years practicing and refining my technique, while you have wasted your time frightening townsfolk. Hardly a task to stretch and challenge yourself."

Despite the strain in her voice, I could hear the scorn.

So could the Witch.

Another nail sprang free.

"Power beats technique every time." The Witch jeered.

"You are clearly out of date." Ariadne replied. "The modern techniques of the brotherhood and the Lodge put the likes of us to shame."

"Yet you seem to have forgotten them."

"I don't need them."

"Ha. Your shield weakens, your power lessens and soon I will feed your flesh to my panthers."

"I doubt they would find me palatable."

The last nail fell out and we were able to pull the chain free.

I gestured to Ariadne and she nodded.

"I may have forgotten the new techniques in the heat of combat." Ariadne told the Witch, straightening and seeming to relax a little. "But you have forgotten that I am not only a Sorceress."

I heard, or felt, a rumbling in the ground. It was a familiar rumbling as I heard it.

The Witch, although I was beginning to doubt that that was who, or what, she was. Called in dismay and redoubled her efforts on Ariadne's shield.

Ariadne had not been straining because of the onslaught though. She had been holding herself in check. And I suddenly knew what the strange vibrations were.

"Are either of you afraid of spiders?" I wondered aloud.

"I was a Knight Errant." Guillaume said. "You can't destroy Arachnomorph nests and be afraid of spiders."

"I am." The girl said. "A little. Why?"

I could see through the holes that the magic had torn in the walls of the cabin. There were things, many limbed things climbing, over each other, burrowing their way out of the ground. And they were coming towards the cabin. Some of them were bigger than dogs.

The girl screamed.

I looked at Guillaume who was gaping at the sight. He turned to me, confusion and fear mixed with awe.

"Errr." I said in sudden indecision. "Run."

Guillaume picked up the girl and rudely slung her over his shoulder without thought to the armour he was wearing. I scooped up my spear from where I had dropped it and we ran. The spiders ignored us, heading into the cabin. I saw the first one leap at the Witch to be burnt in a flash of magic. I was still accelerating when I saw Ariadne's hands elongate into claws.

"Run Freddie." She said, her voice increasingly animalistic.

I did not wait to see the end of the contest and I did as I was told.

But we were not clear yet. As we ran, I heard the Witch's voice coming from around me. "Where do you think you're going?" She said as a panther leapt from the trees.

Bless Kerrass' training. Bless the endless drills and the aching muscles. Without really thinking about it I spun, had my spear planted and the panther impaled itself on my spear, the weight tearing the spear from my hands.

"Freddie." Guillaume called, half passing, half tossing the girl to me who had come round from her swoon. Guillaume's sword swung clear and fair decapitated the next leaping Panther.

We heard a woman scream and my eyes shot to the ruin of the cabin. Green fire and heaving spidery bodies obstructed my view to anything useful.

Guillaume impaled another Panther only unlike me, he had the time to properly twist the blade so that it came through. I tugged my spear free and then, supporting the girl between us, we ran for it.

We made it to the tree line and looked back, the cabin was well ablaze now but there were no signs of anything else coming to get us.

"I would like to sit down please." The girl said, clearly holding onto her self control with her fingernails.

Guillaume and I lowered her to the ground where she leant against the tree. She was murmuring to herself.

We watched the cabin burn.

There was still a small glow of dusk to the west and I marvelled that it hadn't been that long since we had walked into the cottage.

"I'm sorry." The girl said. "But I'm lost. Were the spiders on our side?"

"Yes." I told her, before a thought occurred and I giggled.

"I'm sorry." I said. "But we never asked. You did want rescuing didn't you?"

Guillaume caught my spell of giggles and we started to laugh, the life affirming laughter of men that have survived something.

"Yes." The girl said absently. "I knew that the Witch is selective on who she helps. But I was desperate and I needed help and I knew that… Oh, Father…"

Her face crumpled and she started to sob.

Nothing more effective to quell a moment of hilarity than a young girl's tears.

Guillaume left to climb down the cliff in order to get some water from the horses and our supplies while I started to build a small fire. There is a comfort in routine and there is always a certain kind of person whose first instinct in the middle of a crisis is to make a cup of tea.

In fairness, that's what you're supposed to do when someone has just had a big shock, something milky, hot and sweet. But it always amuses me when I look back and see myself acting automatically in the pursuit of such things. Guillaume came back quick enough to make me a little sick with jealousy at the physical conditioning of the man. The way he bounded up the path, still fully armoured and carrying the huge sword at his waist, but with saddlebags over his shoulder. Frankly, it was a little obscene.

He stood guard while I made tea and the three of us watched the cottage as the fight between Ariadne and the Witch continued. Why didn't we go in to help? By this stage, there was so much fire and energy crackling around the place that I doubt that either of us could have got clear. If the Witch won then we would not be able to flee her wrath fast enough although, to be fair, I didn't really consider that to be an option. I was convinced of Ariadne's superiority and when Ariadne won, I wanted to be there to thank her for coming to our rescue.

The girl sobbed for a while longer, wrapping her hands round the hot tin mug of tea as she stared into the flames of our tiny campfire. We had wrapped her in a blanket against her shivering. Both against the cold and the torment that she had endured.

Guillaume and I stood together and watched the cottage that was now well ablaze. A spray of purple sparks shot out one of the holes in the roof.

"So...uh…" Guillaume began nervously. "You and your lady still happy together?"

"Yeah." I said after taking a moment. "I think I frustrate her sometimes by not looking after myself properly. She mostly seems resigned to that now."

"That's good." He sounded relieved. "I don't think annoying her would be a healthy occupation."

A Panther emerged from the undergrowth and charged into the burning wreckage of the cabin.

"I'm pretty sure that I've annoyed her before now." I said. "She finds my behaviour bewildering sometimes. The differences between Vampire and human somewhere."

"Speaking as a man that has been married for a while now. Believe me when I say that those differences are nothing to do with the different species. She is a woman and you are a man. That's all the differences you need."

Presumably the same panther rolled out of the cottage with a large spider seemingly latched onto it's back, the panther tried to roll around to get the arachnid off it's back but the spider was clinging on with all eight legs with what looked like grim determination.

The spider was on fire.

"The difference." Guillaume went on. "Is whether or not the two of you are willing to bridge the gap. Whether you enjoy the differences or they make the two of you angry."

"She claims to be fascinated by the differences."

"Fascinated?"

"Her very words. Word to the wise, when, as I hope, we are able to get to know each other on a more social basis after all this is over, be prepared to answer an awful lot of questions. And then when she says something like "Fascinating," or "How interesting." Then she may just… sit there for a while while she works it all out."

"I can cope with that I think. I will also warn Vivienne."

"Also be warned, that she has no boundaries regarding sex." Guillaume reddened. "Even while she tends to refer to the whole thing in strictly scientific terms. She will also probably ask your wife for tips."

"It's not Vivienne that finds that kind of thing embarrassing." Guillaume admitted. "Vivienne will be delighted. Any opportunity she gets to throw my own prudishness into my face is a good one for her.

The Cabin exploded. There really is no other way to properly describe what happened. It exploded, a lot like a firework even with brightly coloured sparks and flames shooting in all directions. A burning comet seemed to shoot out of the wreckage and soar towards the heavens where it turned southwards, still accelerating, until it was out of view.

Ariadne emerged from the wreckage of the cottage, tossing aside a burning beam as though it was nothing, swatting away some drifting, burning thatch while also brushing the ash from her hair.

She was also, mostly, naked. The remains of her dress and other clothing hung from her frame, now reduced to a thin spider's web (Freddie: Pun not intended) of loosely connected strands of cloth and leather. Some of which was still smouldering. As she walked towards us… sorry, as she swaggered towards us she had a glow about her that was more than just to do with the magic expended. She looked like the cat that has just stolen a tasty morsel. Or the horse that was showing off for it's master.

She was smiling smugly.

The panther that had had a flaming spider on it's back fled. Halfway to the trees, the spider jumped off and burrowed into the ground.

"Now." Ariadne said as she approached. "I do need to check something. I need to make sure that I get this right. The Phrase is "By the flame but I enjoyed that." That's right isn't it?" She asked me with a little look of anxious concern in her face. Just a touch though, the main characteristic of her face at that time was smugness.

"Yes." I told her. "That's the correct phrase."

"Good, then I can say with feeling that, by the Flame, I enjoyed that."

She laughed and did a little skip which did interesting things to certain parts of her anatomy. I looked away hurriedly, which Guillaume was already doing.

"There is something satisfying." Ariadne went on. "In properly being able to cut loose. I don't get to do it nearly often enough. I mean I've practised and trained with the other ladies of the lodge and I'm better at combat casting than I think I've ever been, but there is always a feeling of holding back."

She sighed happily.

"Freddie?" She wondered. "Why aren't you looking at me. It is traditional in these parts for the damsel to award his rescuer with a kiss is it not?" She gave a little laugh.

"Ummm." I took a breath. "You're naked Ariadne."

There was a pause while I imagined her examining himself.

"That dress was expensive." She commented. "Ah well." There was another pause and a rustling of cloth. "Very well, you can turn back round now."

She had changed into a simple black robe and dark cloak.

"Forgive my appearance." She told Guillaume. "But for some reason I always default to black when I have to conjure clothing."

"After your rescue of us Madam, you could wear sackcloth and I would still call you beautiful."

"Ah," she smiled. "That was a good line. You see Freddie? That is how you compliment a woman."

I chuckled. "I was going to say that you would be so beautiful in sack-cloth that your use of sack-cloth to make dresses would become the fashion."

She smiled.

"And," I continued, holding my finger up. "I would have said so, even before you rescued us."

"Ah you see," She turned to Guillaume. "There is a reason that I am marrying him. Now Freddie, about that kiss."

I gave my rescuer her well deserved reward.

The girl sobbed. She hadn't noticed or even taken in anything that we said. Ariadne pulled apart from us and put her arm round the girl and held her for a while until the girl seemed to doze off. Ariadne produced a pillow from somewhere and tucked our blanket around her.

"Is she alright?" I asked stupidly.

"She will be." Ariadne replied. "She is very strong. I do not think that the problem was with her father's death so much as it was with the fact that she had expected rescue and safety when she came here and all she found was danger and torture. That betrayal hurt her I think. She will sleep for a little while."

"We do need to ask her some questions." I said. "I know it's heartless and harsh but…"

Ariadne raised her hand. "I understand. Let her rest for a little while and she will be better able to help you."

I nodded and sat down, pouring Ariadne some tea as well as a cup each for Guillaume and I.

We sat in silence for a while before I realised that I was sitting separately from the woman that I love and scooted over to put my arm round her.

There are some simple pleasures in life and one of them is to be able to hold onto the woman that you love. She snuggled closer and smiled at me. The kind of smile that I hope I remember in my dreams.

Guillaume saw it and smiled.

We sat and listened to the sounds of what was left of the cottage collapsing.

"Forgive me for being curious Madam." Guillaume began. "But it rather seemed as though the two of you knew each other."

"We do, or rather we did." Ariadne straightened up from where she was resting her head on my chest, listening to my heart beat. Just one of those things she does occasionally that some people might find creepy but I find to be endearing.

"So who… what… is she? I assume that that comet that shot off into the sky was her?"

"It was." Ariadne sighed as she took up a stick and poked the fire with it.

"It could go either way as to it being a long story, or a fairly short one and I am struggling to think of where to start."

I muttered something under my breath but Ariadne heard and glared at me. "Yes I know. Start at the beginning." She snapped comically.

"She is the Woman Wronged." Ariadne told us. "I know that isn't an answer but it's the only answer I have. I have no idea what her name is or even if she has one. It is more likely that her true name is a closely guarded secret so that it cannot be used as a weapon against her. She is a very sad story and I feel sorry for her just as much as she infuriates me."

She refilled her own cup as she frowned in thought.

"Since Freddie has made a study of these things, I have begun to realise that she is very possibly a similar being to Jack. Far less powerful and far less frightening than himself of course. But I think it's a good theory." She smiled at me. "You have a lot more things to write about Freddie when you are done."

"I hope so." I said softly, suddenly feeling a small sense of fear. Ariadne heard it of course and reached over to take my hand and squeeze it.

Ariadne took another breath. "I think that's right though. I think that she and Jack are from the same race of people. I think…"

She stared off into the distance for a long moment before shaking her head.

"She is the Woman Wronged." She said. "It is as though she is the personification of that story."

"What story?" Guillaume wondered.

"If you think about it, in every romantic story there is always a woman that doesn't get the love. In stories where there is an arranged marriage between a boy and a girl where the boy doesn't love the girl and runs off with someone else. The girl left behind is always portrayed as being unlikeable or somewhat repulsive but if you examine such stories, you normally find that the trope is a contrivance for the readers or listeners, to side with the romantic people. But the behaviour of the woman left behind, is actually right. She is the one that remains faithful to the man that does not love her. Doing her best to be a good wife despite the man's inability to communicate with her. Her only crime is to be a woman in the arranged marriage. Or, she is the woman that is left behind by the man that is pursuing his obsession over her. Neglecting his normal duties, such as looking after the children or providing for the family in some way so that he can… I don't know…"

"Become a great Knight." Guillaume suggested.

"That's a good one." Ariadne replied. "Another common one is that the man goes off to pursue some kind of artistic, or athletic dream. Such stories always end up with the hero emerging triumphant, along with getting a new, far more pliable and understanding romantic interest. The fact that she is often portrayed as being more beautiful as well is by the by.

"The exception to this rule is when the boy is already obsessed with something before the girl meets him. These are the women that I have no time for. I would never ask Freddie to give up his studies because they are part of him, part of the man that I fell in love with. Just as I would imagine that Lady Vivienne would never ask you, Guillaume, to set aside your lance and sword to become a courtier's husband. That is part of who you are.

"But I digress. There are other versions of the tale that are becoming more popular in modern times, where this woman, the wronged woman, is the heroine of the tale and she goes on to be a strong independent woman who forges her own destiny, but that is far rarer than the former. Even then though, the woman in these stories, the "wronged woman ends up alone, with maybe a friend of some kind as well as the children that her former lover, husband or paramour have left her with. They tend to be the kind of story where she triumphs against all odds and "learns the strengths of being alone."

Guillaume nodded. "Triumph is all well and good but what you describe is a very lonely story. Triumph is a dish best shared."

"Well those stories are about her. Or rather she is the inspiration of those stories in some way. She seems to have moved into the public consciousness in that way. So it might be that she was the original, that she was human once and that she is morphing into a Jack-like being. I do not know the answer."

Ariadne stared into the space over the fire for a moment, watching the sparks rise up into the night sky.

"When we first knew her. She claimed to have been cursed in some way. And for all I know it's true. Back there and back then… well… how to put this. The Lodge of Sorceresses is not the first knitting circle of powerfully magic women. Freddie has met a number of the old guard now and you will have heard of still others. I was one of course, Francesca Findabair was another along with the Elf Sage Ida aep Emean. Maleficent was another along with a Vodyanoi who's name I cannot pronounce in this shape. Our numbers were never large, some would come and go while others were constant presences" She smiled at a memory.

"We were not so formal an organisation as the modern lodge. There were no meetings, votes or agendas. We were just a group of women that were all studying magic at the time and doing our best to chart and understand the magical chaos that was infusing the continent. The male magic users were far too full of their own self-importance and arrogance to be entirely to our taste and their research was always along the lines of… how to explode things or break things down to their basic elements in order to figure out what was going on. The ladies of the equation much preferred to just go with the flow. To examine the natural order of things.

"Don't be fooled into thinking that our own circle was entirely friendly though. There was also more than a small amount of rivalry amongst us all as well. A very distinct feeling of the human saying "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." If we watched each other then there was no chance that we would be able to sneak up on each other. I certainly would have destroyed any of them in order to preserve my own power and position. But in doing so, it would have weakened me enough that any of the others could have destroyed me easily.

"So in that regard, we balanced each other out. And after a couple of centuries, it becomes clear that people that were once enemies have more become rivals, which in turn becomes a friendly rivalry, which in turn becomes friendship. Maleficent told me that she would have avenged my death if she had known who was responsible and I would have done the same for her. None of us ever said the word "friend" but that's what we were.

"Eventually this woman came to us. She called herself Nessa back then. She claimed that she had been cursed by another woman. Nessa had been minding her own business and had been delighted to be approached and seduced by a handsome man. Only to later find out that the man in question was already married. So the wife cursed Nessa that she would live forever until she met a man who would not break her heart.

"The curse was worded more poetically than that but that's the best translation that I can come up with. And that had become her life. She was obviously beautiful, relatively kind if that was your poison. Fiercely intelligent for her particular walk of life. Proper education hadn't really been invented yet in that time and place. She was already a local herbalist and medicine woman. So she had no problem getting a man. What with everything that she had going for her in that regard. The problem was keeping them and for them to not betray her."

"There are many ways for a man to betray a woman." Guillaume said hollowly. "And for a woman to betray a man also. Especially if they are in love."

"And I think you are coming to the crux of the matter here. Who is betraying whom tends to be in the eye of the beholder. At the time, our observations were that the problem was largely on her side. She was so desperate for love and affection that she would often overwhelm the target of her affections and drive them off. She would just be too much for them, showering them with gifts, indefatigable sexual appetites, constant and overbearing affection. Sooner or later it became too much for the poor man to cope with in this situation. They would be smothered by it all in a very real way. They would not be able to see friends or family because they were always needed to ensure that she was as happy as possible. And woe betide them if they had any female friends, let alone attractive ones. If he didn't reciprocate then she felt betrayed. If he could not satisfy her sexual appetites, even for the simplest reasons of sickness or fatigue, if he did not return a gift for a gift, if he wanted some time to himself away from the constant attention and affection. Then she would lose her mind."

"I am struggling to believe that there was no-one willing to step up to that kind of thing." Guillaume said.

"Oh there was." Ariadne looked at me unhappily. "Several in fact and for a while there she was quite happy."

"What happened?" I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"She is immortal." Ariadne wouldn't meet my eyes. "They grew old, died and in doing so, they broke her heart more completely than if they had simply run off with another woman."

"I…" I tried but Ariadne held her hand up.

"Yes Freddie. That betrayal is in your future too, and mine." She took a breath. "I hope that when that time comes, I weather it better than Nessa does. And I do not blame you for it. I walked into loving you with open eyes."

I nodded. "We are going to talk about this further." I told her, reaching out and taking her hand.

I noticed that Guillaume had turned away, not looking at either of us.

"Eventually," Ariadne took up the tale again. "She started to learn magic from us. She had some talent although that talent would be dwarfed by someone like Triss Merigold, Fringilla Vigo and the rest. Let alone Yennefer. But she started and she was determined. With our failure to be able to help her with the curse, she had resolved to help herself. In doing so, there were even more avenues for men to disappoint her of course. Eventually, she came to the limit of our understanding in such things and wandered off in an effort to try and find a different solution to her problem. We would hear of her around the continent and beyond. Trying to find the man that could properly satisfy her. A man that would make her happy.

"We tried everything to help her as well. We found eligible lonely men, but she would find fault with them all, often with regards to their physical appearance or capabilities. We found her eligible creatures as well, beings that would be as immortal as she was, if not more so. Such beings were far more common back there and back then. But she didn't want that. She was meant to be with very specific people and as a result, she simply wouldn't have it. We even tried setting her up with women on the grounds that maybe the curse could be broken in that way. By finding love with a woman rather than a man that would always be out of her reach. Maybe that would be able to break the curse, true love being the breaking of all such things. But nothing that we tried seemed to get through to her. Nothing that we tried was properly satisfying to her.

"So on she would travel. Meeting with one or other of us over the years, learning as much as we were willing to teach her before she would try and take everything that we weren't willing to teach her. At which time she would grow angry when we defended our secrets and then there would be fighting and then she would head off into the rest of the wide world.

"We kept a watch on her of course. We were responsible for her after all and many of us were territorial. We would not have suffered a rival in, or near our places of power. Several times these disputes would come to blows. Where, between any of the rest of us would have backed down over such a thing after a few brief and subdued exchanges, more tests than anything else. She would go all out in her efforts to the point that she would need to be spanked down.

"When she went after the Elven magic, Francesca and Ida slapped her around a bit and taught her the errors of her ways. She came to see me after that and wept that we had turned on her and I had to explain about the balance of power. She left promising that she would not impinge any further but I know that a decade later she had a run in with Maleficent and was burnt for it. Literally and figuratively.

"I am not surprised to find her here after all that. The most romantic land on the continent."

Guillaume snorted.

"She was angry though." Ariadne ignored him. "Angry enough that I would suggest that she has recently lost another lover. She is, or was, far more open to visitors, especially if they are polite and deferential to her. But she seemed to want to pick a fight."

"She nearly won." I said.

"I agree." Guillaume said. "And although Freddie here can make it up to you with flowers and jewellery, such things would be inappropriate for me to express my gratitude in such a way. If there is anything I can do to help you, I beg of you to ask."

"A man should be careful about making such promises Sir Guillaume." Ariadne warned although I could tell she was pleased. "It might not end well."

"And I would not offer except that I know you to be an honourable lady."

She snorted unhappily. "It was not always so."

"Maybe not. But Freddie is a good man and I would trust his judgement."

Ariadne smiled. "Yes," he looked at me, meeting my eyes again. "Yes he is a good man isn't he."

We looked away from each other.

"She could be a good friend though." She took up the account again. "The woman wronged also meant that she had plenty of Empathy for those people that had had their heart broken. She was also… clever isn't the right word. Experienced might be a better one. She knew how to talk to people. She knew how to… She knew the difference between what a person wanted to hear and what a person needed to hear. She did have a bit of a tendency to play the "woe is me" card. Where she would complain that the other woman's heartache was nothing compared to her own.

"But beyond that, she had the trick of knowing what to say to someone in order to get them to forget their broken heart and move on with their lives. In the end, she would become the kind of forest Witch that gives other wise women a bad name. Being off in the woods looking all beautiful and forbidden, luring the men of the village off by being horrible to them in every way." A smile flickered across her face at a memory. "Odd how being horrible and obnoxious seem to attract a certain kind of man. The very opposite of the saying, attract more flies with honey.

"She would help the broken hearted girl who had been taken advantage of and curse, or seduce, the man that had done the taking. She would help with the babies that resulted from these entanglements and I recall that nothing made her quite so angry as to see a baby being denied a Father's love through laziness.

"But she could never stop falling in love. No matter how hard she tried. She was the female version of Dandelion. She just couldn't help falling in love at the drop of a hat. A well developed musculature, a sense of rugged danger, a pretty face. A similarly broken hearted man that she would want to care for. An older man who had lost his wife and despaired of finding love again. The lonely drunk. The choosy Lord. The wandering knight. The chaste, innocent and beautiful monk. The powerful bandit. She would love them all and, inevitably and often predictably, her heart would be broken and her wrath would be terrible. Sometimes so terrible that someone would need to step in."

"I feel as though you are trying to tell us something here." Guillaume said. "There is a parable to your tale but I just can't tell what it is. I am a stupid man milady and I would beg you to speak plainly."

Ariadne smiled. "I am guessing as I do not know the full circumstances of the thing. But I would guess that the girl's heart is broken in one form or another. The Wronged woman would not have helped her if it wasn't. But what she did, keeping her prisoner and hurting her. That might have been as a result of the woman's jealousy, or rage at a recent heartbreak. But it might also have been something that needed to happen to goad the girl into action.

"The Wronged Woman is old. Far older than me and she did not look like that when I first knew her. You would be mistaken to underestimate her."

"Is she gone permanently?" Guillaume asked. "People have often eyed the woods near here with regards to timber. There is a series of caves nearby that often house bandits and it would be useful if we could set something up to prevent their use. ANd more land available means more Vineyards and wineries. The presence of the Witch has always prevented this."

"She will return." Ariadne decided after a moment's thought. "Especially if I am correct in believing that her treatment of the young Countess there was a ruse of some kind. She will have known that you were coming to rescue her and what the consequences of that would be. It would astonish me if my arrival was not expected."

She thought on the matter a bit further. "My professional advice on the subject would be that you should watch this part of the world. It is not a coincidence that she built her cabin on that particular piece of ground. In a day, maybe two, you will look up and see that the cabin is rebuilt. There will have been no wood-cutters or wood-workers. There will be no-one who saw it being rebuilt but there it will stand. Shortly after that, there will be an eldritch light seen in the window and people will become afraid again with little to no new impetus. Then you will know that she has returned.

"If there is no new house there in a month, then you can consider it safe to develop the area."

"I will pass that on." Guillaume shivered.

The girl was asleep at this point, the sleep of the exhausted and drained. We didn't have long and we needed to know what she knew but to wake her up now seemed harsh. Ariadne, who knows more about this kind of thing than either of us, suggested that it would be better to let her rest for a while and so we followed her advice.

Countess Vasseur reminded me of Princess Dorn in many ways although more due to the differences than any kind of similarity. They were the same age physically with Sleeping Beauty being a little older now, both had long hair but where Sleeping Beauty's hair was, golden yellow, long and straight, hanging like a curtain, Countess Vasseur's hair was a reddish gold. Almost exactly the same shade of colour as the Duchess' hair was. Almost, not quite.

The main difference between the two was that it rather struck me that Countess Vasseur had not quite grown into her face or body yet. There was a sense of girlishness about her form that suggested that there was still some maturation to come. She would, undoubtedly be a pretty lady, especially with the help of people at court that could teach her how to… be. But she had the sense of not quite being fully formed.

Whereas the Queen of Dorn is everything she is. She is comfortable in herself, even while she occasionally despises the things that this has made her a victim of.

Guillaume promised to watch over her for a while as Ariadne and I felt the need to go off and speak quietly. Or rather, I should say that I felt the need to take her off and speak privately. I will not detail that conversation as it was a private one. Given what we had just been talking about, I wanted to make sure that she was alright.

All I will say is that I love her with all my heart and I do not foresee a situation where that would change. We were mostly done when Guillaume called us over to tell us that the young Countess was waking up.

As we returned to her, I was once again reminded of a similar situation with the then Princess Dorn. The young Countess sat with her knees drawn up, hands cupped round a mug of tea which she was blowing across the top of in order to get it cool down. Every part of the image was different. Curly hair instead of straight, curtain like hair. Guillaume instead of Kerrass. Being outside instead of in an old, mostly ruined castle.

But the physical situation was the same. That and the fact that Ariadne was beside me.

I sat down while Ariadne remained standing. If I was being uncharitable, I might have suggested that she was lurking but far be it from me to suggest that she was doing something like that.

Guillaume passed out a cup of the strong, bitter tea, serving Ariadne first because of course that was the correct way round before passing me a similar tin mug. It occurred to me that he had brought extra mugs as part of his gear. Shortly before it occurred that he had possibly gone through my things to find my mug. But I didn't quite believe that, it didn't seem as though it was in character for him somehow.

I also noticed that he placed his own mug of tea at his feet without taking a sip from it.

"You haven't asked how I'm doing yet." The girl said, presumably at that point where the silence became oppressive for her.

Guillaume deferred to me, I sighed. "Would it help?"

For just a moment, it looked as though her face was going to crumble. "No," She said, "No I suppose it wouldn't."

"I lost my own father." I said. "A little more than a year and a half ago. I know it's not the same for me as it is for you as our walks of life are very different. But there are some things that I find that I can tell people that sometimes helps. Things that no-one else seems to have the courage to tell us."

She looked up through tear stained eyes.

"The first is that it will always hurt." I told her. "Always. That never goes away."

I saw Guillaume nodding out of the corner of my eye.

"It will always hurt whenever you think of your father. You will consider the things that you should have said and did not say. The things that you did, or did not do when you had the chance to take a different path. It will never go away. Never. But gradually, over the course of the day, you will just… not think about it as much. It's like having a sore tooth, a headache or some other kind of injury. It gets to a point where it is always there but you become used to it. You will think of other things, for a moment, for an hour, for a morning."

I took a breath.

"And then there will be a day where you don't think of your father, or the fact that your father is dead, at all. I will not lie to you. That day is awful and I remember having a friend take me to an inn and get me so very drunk that I could barely stand. The kind of drunk where you have to hold onto the ground to ensure that you do not fall off."

She giggled through the tears.

"It is easier with friends though. Friends rather than family. Your family, if there is any, will be going through their own things and will not be much help to you. But friends? their only connection is through you. So they can spend all that time caring for you ahead of all other concerns. Use that."

"Was your father murdered though?" She asked with just a hint of bitterness. "You are an old man."

Ariadne hid a snigger.

I carefully did not tell her that I was only just into my twenties. I remember being sixteen and anyone older than twenty was ancient.

"You are an old man," She said again. "Parents are meant to die."

"Yes they are." I told her. "But yes, my father was murdered too."

She checked with Guillaume to see if I was lying. He nodded at her. "My father died in battle." He said. "I have less fond memories of my father. He was often away on duties."

The girl turned back to me. "Did you catch the person that killed your father?"

"I did." I told her. "Along with the help of a number of friends. We caught them, we tried them, and in the end, my father received justice. It did not make me feel better. I would much rather have my father back. But in the end. He was my father, and if I cannot have him back, I will take the justice."

She nodded before staring back into the fire. "Thankyou for your honesty." She said. "I agree, it is not the kinds of things that people say in stories. They say that things get better, that there will be hardship and things but that everything will be alright in the end. It always struck me as being a little unrealistic."

"Things are never completely alright." I told her. "They just get replaced by other things."

She nodded to this too as she took that in.

"My name is Lord Frederick von Coulthard." I told her. Her eyes widened a little which I took to meaning that she recognised the name. "Behind me is Madame La Comtesse, Ariadne du Angral and with me is Sir Guillaume de Launfal."

She nodded at the names, quailing in fear at Ariadne but also being reassured that neither Guillaume nor myself seemed to be afraid.

"We are looking to bring the people who killed your father to justice." I told her. "And to ensure that no other people have to die."

She nodded before seeming to screw up her courage. "My name is Caroline de Vasseur. Countess de Vasseur now I suppose although it doesn't really mean that much other than the title itself."

I smiled. "I remember thinking such things myself. And now I am on first name terms with the Empress and my fiancee is a Countess and a vampire to boot. The world can take funny turns at times."

She didn't believe me, I found myself wondering if I had been that naive when I was sixteen. Also wondering whether or not I had been that bad at hiding what I was thinking from anyone watching my face.

The answer, for those who are wondering, is that of course I was that bad at things. I was sixteen and resenting the fact that I was working for the Redanian intelligence corps when I would much rather have been with my brother actually fighting the enemy.

I am no longer that naive and am well aware that I owe my survival to the fact that I was not assigned to the front. Barely knowing which part of the sword to grip would have had an important effect on my chances of survival.

"As you say," she began carefully. "I cannot have my father back. So on balance, I too will be forced to settle for justice over a miracle. What do you need from me?"

I took a deep breath.

"We know that Lady Moineau was killed. We think you warned her in advance. How did you know that that was coming?"

She took a deep breath. "I didn't know. I strongly suspected. I rather thought that she was in danger and that, if I had the chance, I should warn her. She didn't listen."

"People rarely listen to those kinds of warnings." Guillaume said. "Especially from younger people."

"But how did you know that?" I asked.

"I overheard." She said before sighing. "Could I have some more tea please?"

Guillaume refilled the cup.

"I don't really know where to begin." She mused.

Ariadne kicked me in the back and I shut my mouth with a snap. Thus avoiding my usual saying in the face of that kind of declaration.

"I know who I am." She started much more decisively when she got given the cup back. "I know that I am rumoured to be the daughter of my father, the late Count Vasseur and the Duchess Anna Henrietta." She smirked. "Believe me when I say that I heartily wish that this was not the case. It would make my life so much easier.

"But before I go any further, it is important that you know that I don't actually know whether any of that is true or not. I never knew my mother. I have met the Duchess once when I was introduced at court a couple of years ago but I was one among many. I curtseyed and didn't look her in the eye as I had been taught. She complimented my frock and asked after my father, re-emphasising that they had once been close friends. I have seen her from a distance of course, but I don't think that she could pick me out of a crowd.

"I know that I resemble her but the more people I ask about that, the more it seems that the only similarities seem to be about my hair colour and posture.

"The other option for my mother is a peasant woman. If I try really hard I can remember the smell of cooking herbs and bread. The rumours about that kind of thing suggest that she was a woman that my father chose for her similarities to the Duchess, I don't know whether that was true or not, although there are certainly days where I prefer that tale of my birth. It would make life so much easier.

"I asked my…" She coughed and swallowed. All of this had the cadence of a story that she had told many times, a practised speech even. "I asked my father who my mother was on several occasions. Well, three times. The most recent being when all of this began, and each time he gave the same answer. He told me that it did not matter who my mother was. He said that all I had to know was that he loved me and that my mother loved me."

Mother loved me. The suggestion that she was still alive. I put that away to think about it later.

"He told me that it was important that my background stay ambiguous. He said that if I was definitely the Duchess' daughter then I would never have a quiet life again and that I would become a tool for the use of less worthy men. But then he also said that if it was confirmed that my mother was a peasant woman, then the reputation of being a common born bastard would tarnish me forever.

"So there I was, trapped between two worlds. Neither important enough to marry, or kill but important enough to open doors.

"To be honest, I found the entire thing rather tiresome. There would regularly be men who would come by. Strong Knights on tall horses with shining swords. Beautiful men, ugly men, old men, young men. They would gather in my father's private study which was little more than a room with a desk, a spare chair and a bottle of brandy. Then they would talk for a while before either my father would get angry, or they would get angry and the visitor would leave.

"The other side of me also got suitors. There was a farmer's son that seemed, to me at least, to be much more agreeable than all of the Knights. But father wouldn't have it. It was one of the few really bad arguments that we had and neither of us ever apologised for what we said. He told me that the daughter of a Count deserved better than a farmer's son and I told him that I didn't want to be a Countess anyway."

A tear rolled down her cheek. I was a little frustrated. I wanted to get to the meat of the matter but I could also recognise a person in full flow. Someone who was talking themselves into telling the story.

"I don't know when exactly it started." She had gone back to a quieter, smaller voice. "But I think it was quite a while ago. The first time that I knew anything about it was that a Knight rode up. There was nothing unusual about that. There have always been Knights coming to our door. He was fully encased in armour, helmed with a full face plate so there was no way of knowing who the person was but again, there was nothing unusual in that. He was just a Knight.

"Something was different though. I could just tell. He moved more confidently. He was more comfortable around my father. Father was more welcoming. More friendly. The kind of thing where I look back and think… I should have seen it coming."

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing." I told her. "But it is also an overrated tool. Learn from it, but don't use it as a whip for flogging yourself."

"That is what Father would have said." She nodded.

"All I know is that the Knight and Father went into Father's study. There was nothing unusual about that. That was always what happened. They stayed there for a while and talked. I tried listening at the door but they were speaking quietly and in the end I gave up and went away. There was always dinner to prepare and the like, always a chore that needs doing when you live in a countryside cottage. Father was never patient enough to be a good cook and now it felt like we would have an extra mouth to feed. Although I couldn't believe that a Knight like that one would be satisfied by our simple rabbit and turnip stew.

"In the end though, the meeting was over far quicker than I thought it would be. Father and the Knight emerged, shook hands in that stupid, wrist to wrist way that seems to make men feel as though they're more masculine than they actually are. The Knight climbed on his horse and rode away. A different direction from the one that he used to ride up.

""Who was that?" I wondered aloud of my Father, who seemed to be more cheerful than I could remember him being in some years.

"I remember him being startled from a thought process. "With a bit of luck," he said, "That will be your husband."

""Who is he?" I asked. I remember being wary. Not least because Father had taught me to be wary of men that approached me.

""His identity needs to remain secret." He told me. "He is running a great risk by approaching us but out of all people, he has the most to lose here."

"I remember watching my Father for a long time. "You don't like him." I guessed.

""I am your Father." He joked. "I would dislike anyone who came to take my daughter away from me."

"I remember thinking that it was a diversion. I know a little bit about courtly politics and I could recognise an effort to divert attention away from a particular subject when I saw it. But past history had already taught me that Father would not have responded in a positive way if I had pushed it too much further. He didn't want to talk about it and when Father decided that he didn't want to talk about something then even if the continent was ending in fire and smoke, he still wouldn't talk about it."

She stared into the fire.

"After that I received a letter." She said the words bitterly and scornfully. "It was the first of many. There was not much in it. It was a poem, a love poem actually. It was well written, both in the poetry forms and with careful penmanship. It talked about a chaste and far off love that was pure and noble of heart and intention.

"The following day, a single red rose turned up on our doorstep. No-one could say how it got there and when we asked the local villagers if anyone had been seen with such things, then we were told that there were no strangers in the local area.

"I showed both the letter and the flower to Father. He nodded, he kind of pursed his lips in that way that I always think of as being my Father's version of pouting. But then he nodded and moved on.

"And that was the way it worked. Every day or so there would be a small gift. Flowers, a poem, something."

Her face scrunched together as though she was in pain. "I thought it was romantic…" She sobbed.

We were just at the stage of stopping so that the poor girl could have a rest when she brought herself back under control.

"Gradually it became clear that we were building towards a meeting of some kind. I was guilty of it too, I wrote to him, leaving letters in specific spots where I had found my own gifts, begging to be allowed to see his face. To see who it was. A name, a sign, something so that I could know who my admirer was. I took my problems to Father but he didn't seem to be concerned. As though he knew something that I didn't. I could have pushed, I suppose but the other truth is that I was a little in love with the mystery."

She shook her head violently.

"I first saw him at dusk. I received detailed instructions. I had already guessed that my admirer was a Knight of some kind…"

"How?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"It was in the way he spoke." She told me. "The penmanship was round and basic. The writing of a man that had learned his letters and then decided that it was unimportant. That he had other things to worry about. Other things to do."

I nodded. That would make sense.

"I remember walking through the meadow as the sun sank beneath the horizon. I could hear the birds in the trees and hear the buzzing of the bees in the flowers. It was the most romantic night of my life as I came to the place that I had been told to wait. I stood and waited, watching the sun as it sank further and further towards the horizon before I would turn away when the brightness became too much.

"And then, just as the last rays of the sun were shining over the mountains. I saw him. Sitting on his horse a short way off. Beams of sunlight bathing his armour so that it glittered. His horse neighed and reared up as he drew his sword in salute." Her words became broken and bitter. "I remember thinking it was so romantic. This stolen glimpse of a man that I was coming to love. He was wrapping me round his fingers so very easily because I wanted it to happen. I wanted to be seduced."

I said nothing. I was remembering another sixteen year old girl. And I remembered Marion telling me in a quiet voice that sixteen year old girls, sometimes, they just want to have sex with something. I had to concentrate not to shake my head in disgust. She seemed like a girl who was torn between self-loathing, grief and hatred of others. Walking the Knife edge before she fell down the cliff.

"After that though, the tone of things changed. Father received a letter and he called me into his office. It was not a long conversation. He told me that he had friends at court and that they were telling him that I was in danger. What that danger was, he couldn't tell me. I got various little hints later that seemed to suggest that the Duchess was communicating with foreign powers for a new husband. And rumours of my parentage were resulting in the foreign power demanding that I be removed so as to clear the way for any issue of that union, a straight line to the Ducal throne."

Guillaume shifted in his seat.

"Father told me that I would need to stay at home for a while. That going outside, especially away from the cottage would be dangerous. It was not the first time that I had been threatened in such a way or for such a reason. I have sometimes even wondered if the Duchess herself had sent warnings in the past. My admirer added his own words to the warning, advising me to do as my Father said so that I could be safe and that there would be no problems. He told me that he loved me and that he would do anything to help.

"I was writing back to him regularly now. He had told me a place that I could leave letters that would be sure to get to him safely and that no-one would be able to interfere with. I begged him to tell me what was going on, I begged him for more signs and I begged him that I might be able to see him again.

"He started to visit. Still in his full face helm to protect both himself and myself, or so he told me. We would go for walks in the meadow as I was beginning to get grumpy that I wasn't allowed outside and I still prefer the smell of fresh air whenever I get the chance. I pleaded with Father to let me go and in turn he would insist that this Knight be allowed to accompany me. It was all very chaste, I would walk with my hand resting on his as he helped me over logs and streams that I would normally have leaped over anyway but it was nice to be looked after.

"He would speak in whispers, quiet words so that I was forced to bend closer to him in order to hear. Now, I can think that it was a tool to increase physical intimacy, but then, it added an air of clandestine romance to it all. I loved it."

She stopped speaking again. The words have been tumbling out of her quickly and fluidly. So teh stop was jarring.

"One night we were walking among the trees and he stopped, staring into the woods before he stopped and turned to me. "Run." He said. "Run back to your home." And then he drew his sword.

"I fled. What else could I have done.

"He came later. Father had taken down his sword and stood guard and we could hear the clash of armour as he walked up to our door. I ran out, I couldn't help myself and there was my rescuer, my protector."

She snorted bitterly.

"My Guardian. He was injured and was pressing his hand against his side. We helped him up to my room where we had to take his armour off. I know a bit of healing and I was insistent. I told him that I needed to take his helmet off and that I needed to examine the wounds. He fought at first but it soon became clear that I was going to overpower him and he relented.

"And so I saw him for the first time."

She shuddered. "I still get excited at the thought of it. I still feel my breath catch in my throat. He was… he was beautiful. I cared for him with a few pieces of advice from Father. I bound his cuts and strapped up his side. He… said things to me. He told me that he loved me and that he had come to love me as he cared for me and fought for my safety. He told me that I had a gentle touch, a gentle soul and then... he took my hand…"

She shook her head. "Before I knew it, I was kissing him. And then…" She shook her head.

She shook her head in denial.

"You don't need to say." I whispered. Feeling the need to console but also not to break the spell.

"What?" Her mind caught up with her ears. "No. Nothing happened. Not then anyway. Father clumped about and I pulled away from him. My rescuer… who's name I still did not know. Sat up and told Father that it was becoming dangerous for me to stay there. That I should leave and that I would be protected. Up until that point, I would have fought it. I would have insisted upon remaining in my home and away from strangers but an odd kind of longing was in me then. I wanted to go with my rescuer so badly that I could almost feel it. I was…" She drifted on lost thoughts.

"You don't need to explain yourself." I said. "I know what it's like to burn for someone."

"Yes," The girl crowed. "That was exactly what it was like. I burned for him. His touch set my skin on fire and I… would shudder with it."

I nodded.

"I begged Father to be allowed to go. He told me that he would protect me and I had to ask him, I had to ask him how he would do that. He was, after all, crippled. Once, he might have been the best sword in Toussaint but now?"

She shook her head.

"Oh Father, I'm so sorry. That was your last effort I think, looking back. That was your last effort to save me. If I wanted to stay behind then he would have known. But I didn't listen. I didn't."

"We never listen to our parents." Guillaume joined in with the comforting. "We never listen, they know that we are not going to listen but they have to try, and they love us for it regardless.

"I left that morning. Clinging to the back of the man that I was becoming convinced that I had fallen in love with. He seemed to be more stable. More relaxed. I asked him whether his injuries were troubling him given his obvious pain when he had been on the bed. He told me that my touch had been magical and that I had all but healed him."

She snorted

"He brought me to a cottage in the woods after we had travelled for a day or so. We took the long way around, far from the roads and the villages."

"How long ago was this?" I wondered.

"A couple of months ago. This will have been in the early autumn or so." She snorted. "I thought it was all romantic."

Guillaume and I exchanged glances. This had been going on for a while then.

"It was a nice cottage. In truth, it was nicer than the house that I shared with Father. The Knight told me that it was his hunting lodge, that the people that I saw there were absolutely trustworthy and devoted to my safety. That I had nothing to fear from any of them.

"I remember being scared. After the Witch and everything that happened later, my fear seems ridiculous to me now. They were, after all, only men. But at the time I found their rough manners and ugly faces frightening. But the insides of the house were lovely. Thick wall hangings, warm carpets and the bed was luxurious and wonderful. A far cry from my straw stuffed mattress at home. There was a large Kitchen with all the supplies that I could need and there was a heavy scent in the air. I was shown a place where there were several dresses and things for me to wear. I was shown where the well was and the best way to heat the water should I want a bath. I was overwhelmed by it all. I didn't know what to think or what to do."

I looked over at Guillaume, wondering if he had come to the same conclusion that I had. The Knight had taken this poor girl to his love nest.

"He left quickly after that. Leaving me to the care of the maid. She was a nice woman called Elise who looked after me while my rescuer was gone, to see to my protection he said. He didn't come back for two days and I felt myself beginning to get scared. I needn't have worried though, I was perfectly safe and I should have known that. I should have…

"He came two nights later and sat me down to talk to me. His speech was long and flowery and I don't really remember that much of it as I was too busy… heh… drowning in his eyes. He spoke softly, lovingly. He would go to touch me and stroke me before pulling back. Hardly seeming to realise that I was longing for his touch. He told me that I was in danger. That people were coming for me because of what I might mean for the Duchess. He told me that he was part of the faction that sought to keep the Duchy safe. They were loyal to the Duchess but they weren't sure who else was and so they had to move carefully. He told me that he was to keep me safe but in doing so, in watching me from afar, he had come to love me. That he had grown to care for me as more than the symbol and come to know me as the woman."

Again, she shook her head bitterly.

"The following day he came back with a cut across his brow that he asked me to help him stitch up because he couldn't trust anyone else not to poison him during the healing.

"My heart wept for him then." She sneered as she said it.

"He did not come back for some time. There were other men there. Always there were other men there and they kept Elise and I in the cottage, forbade us from having fires at night that might give away our position to marauding killers that might be in the woods. We would huddle together for warmth and shiver with fear around the fire boxes that we heated with the embers from the fire but they never keep the heat properly.

"Then he didn't turn up one day. And another day and another and another. I fell for it. I curse myself every day, but I fell for it. Like the stupid, naive girl that I am. I fell for it. So that when he finally came through the door, looking tired and weary I leapt at him and covered his face in kisses. He told me that it was wrong. That he shouldn't. I argued that he had already admitted that he loved me and so, in return, I loved him.

"And I did." She looked at the three of us with the huge eyes of a person that was concerned about their own sanity. "I did love him. I did."

"We know." I told her. "It's ok. We don't blame you."

"Agreed." Guillaume rumbled although he was unable to keep the anger from his voice. "You were poorly used child, poorly used and taken advantage of."

She bridled a little in reflex anger at being called child and that anger derailed her tears a little. Like I had so often while working with Guillaume. I wondered whether he had done it that way intentionally, or whether he had just said it aloud for that reason.

"You don't know the half of it." She said. "My blood was up. I was desperate to show him how much I loved him. I was desperate and I begged him to let me love him. He protested. He told me that he was given to a loveless marriage, to a shrew of a woman that his parents had forced him to marry. He couldn't have drawn my heart to him more if he tried. I promised that I would love him and that I would not betray him. So many promises. So many oaths as I wept and I pleaded with him to love me.

"He relented. Of course he relented and he allowed me to take him into my room. It was all over so fast and… and it…"

"It hurt." Ariadne said gently.

The girl nodded miserably. "I thought it would be this wondrous thing. This glorious thing that would combine our two souls into one. I thought it would be the ultimate expression of love and instead, I was sore, it was messy, it was kind of boring and when he rolled off me he reached for the jug of watered wine that I kept at the side of my bed, poured himself a cup without offering me one, and said "Well that was different.""

"Ok. That's enough." Ariadne stepped forward and wrapped the girl in her arms. "From one woman to another there are things that you should know."

"But you're a vampire." THe girl protested.

"I still have the relevant bits." Ariadne told her with a smile and the young Countess smiled.

"Sometimes it hurts. Especially after you've had a break and not done it for a while. Sometimes it is boring, especially when you yourself are not particularly invested in the act or the person that you are with is not particularly skilled." Ariadne considered. "Or they are only interested in their own pleasure."

"Which amounts to the same thing." I muttered. I was hoping to say that under my breath but of course Ariadne heard me.

"Quite right Freddie." She said before talking to the girl again. "But it can be wondrous. It can be glorious and it can be…. What did you call it? The ultimate expression of love. As well as providing you with enough pleasure to melt your thought processes. But to get to all of those things, you need the right partner, a little practice yourself and you need to know what you yourself like. I agree with Guillaume in that you have been sorely used but do not think that this is all that romance has to offer you. You are young, strong, charming, intelligent, brave and beautiful. This is not the end of things for you. Someone will come along that can make you feel the way that you want and need."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Yes it is." Ariadne admitted. "But one day, when I am proven right, you will remember this moment. But for now, time is growing short. Please continue your story."

Countess Vasseur nodded. "The following day was worse. We barely spoke. He just arrived, hung his cloak up, turned to me and said "Come, be a woman to your man." The only thing that could be said about the second time was that it hurt a little less. But after he was gone, I realised what had happened. In the cold light of the moon I started to reexamine everything that had happened up to that point and I realised what had become of me.

"I had become the man's mistress. I was just a toy, a play thing, a pretty jewel that he had added to his collection. I looked around and I saw all the signs that I was far from the first either. I saw the dresses that didn't quite fit me that were obviously made for someone else. I saw the gaudy and cheap jewellery. I examined the events that had led me to this place and I began to see how easily I had been seduced. It was not hard. One of my few escapes from a young age had been reading and there are many stories that speak of exactly this kind of seduction. Not a year before I had read a romance where a woman was rescued from just a situation as I found myself in. My Knight might as well have copied the method used to make me his from exactly that book.

"I remember, as I had read it, that I swore to myself that I would never be that stupid. That I couldn't be that stupid. I even said that the stupidity in the book was a contrivance of plot and although I enjoyed the basic romance of the story, I ridiculed that particular part for being too unrealistic. And I hated myself for it.

"The fictional heroine was eventually rescued by a noble Knight and they married and had many wonderful children. But now I found that my eyes were opened. Such things happen in these romantic fantasies but this was the real world. So I resolved to make the most of it while I could. When he came to give me gifts as I was sure he would until my beauty, or youth, or whatever it was that had drawn him to me, began to fade. He would need to keep me sweet, keep me hooked onto his charms. So I would take those gifts and I would keep them. And when the time came I would flee, sell the jewels and the dresses and I would go somewhere.

"I didn't know where I would go of course. My first thought had always been that I would flee to where my Father was but it was clear that My Father had suspected what was going on. If he hadn't known it directly. So as well as myself, I also had quite a lot of anger towards my Father as well."

"Not to your seducer?" Guillaume wondered.

She laughed bitterly. It was an old noise. There was an age to that laughter that seemed odd to come out of so young a person. "No. I did not hate him. He had played the game and he had won. He had won me and I deserved what was happening to me now. And…" She looked over at Ariadne. "And I loved him. He had played me so completely that I still wanted to believe that there were other things to happen. That he was protecting me from some dark and sinister faction within the court. I knew there wasn't, but I wanted there to be those things.

"So I started to relax into my new life. He would come to me for a few days in a row and then he would stay away for a week or even longer. Then he would come back to my life. I would be lying if I said it was completely unpleasant. I found that there was even some enjoyment and the ghost of pleasure in the bed chamber, even if it sounded as though some of the things that the villagers had told me were a bit exaggerated. But as I became used to them, the sensations were far from unpleasant.

"I even learned to enjoy my life. They had let go of some of the pretenses. We were no longer kept from keeping a fire in the evening so the food was simple, but of good quality. Amazing to think that even with simple food, the better quality ingredients can make all the difference. Eventually, I was even allowed to go into town on my own errands. My… heh… Paramour was encouraging of this. He wanted me to have some dresses made and I was learning what to say and when to say it in order to get some small luxuries. The means that I would eventually make my escape which I kept under one of the floorboards.

"And that was my life. I exercised, we spent time together, he and I and I liked to believe that we were coming to an understanding. He was charming, witty, but there was a lack of pretense to our relationship then. He moaned about his wife a lot. He complained about people putting him under undue pressure. He complained about how people weren't keeping to the old traditions and such like. Not paying him the respect that he deserved. I was a little sympathetic to that I will admit. After all, I lived in poverty and yet people call me Countess. But he rather seemed to take it to extremes.

"I also found out his name. One of the men-at-arms that was around the place called him Sir Alain which did not please him very much. But then there was no avoiding the matter. He was forced to admit that he was Baron Alain de Moineau. Which put a new wrinkle on things and I was concerned for a while. Now that I knew who he was, there was more risk involved in the scandal. As a result, it might be more expedient to simply slit my throat and bury me in a ditch in the woods.

"I knew who he was now of course and gossip made it clear that I was the latest in a long line of young and pretty women that he had taken to his bed. I did not delude myself into thinking that I would last any longer and started to make a point of letting what friends I was making, know where I was and what I was doing.

"Eventually, this would have been a few weeks ago now. I screwed up my courage and asked him what was to become of me. He looked confused as I recall. I told him that I was aware of my status, I told him that I loved him but I was trying to be realistic. I told him that I knew that he would eventually tire of me and that I would be set aside, even killed to prevent a scandal. He reacted wonderfully."

Again, the sarcasm and disdain was obvious in her voice.

"We were by a stream at the time. Having a picnic. I told him all of that and the most eloquent expression of horror came across his face. He told me that he was waiting and that he begged that I be patient. He told me that his wife was not performing properly and had been unable to provide him with an heir. So she was not far off from getting to the stage where she would set aside.

"He told me that he loved me and that he would marry me then. I told him that I was aware of his reputation and wondered if he said that to all the women that he had known. He took it surprisingly well. He caressed my cheek before asking in a small and broken voice, if I truly thought so little of him.

"It was a good line and excellently delivered. I let him screw me next to the stream. We called it making love but I don't believe that any more."

"When did you know things were getting dangerous?" I wondered. My impatience finally getting the best of me.

She thought about this for a while. "I realised that he was becoming less interested in me. He gave the impression of a man who was doing an unpleasant chore when he came to see me. He was still playing me wonderfully, seeing to it that I was happy and enthralled with his charm and his beauty. And I was, but I also felt that he was… I'm not quite sure how to put this. He was getting bored with me."

I nodded. That would track with what we knew of Sir Alain. Fickle wasn't the word for it.

"He was becoming distant, bored, perfunctory about things. I felt like a duty and it took me a while to find out why. At first, I just assumed that that was it. That he had grown bored with me. I thought that there might be a time if and when someone rejected him knowing his reputation, and that he would come back to me with renewed… vigor. But instead, another man came to see him.

"I didn't know him. I am sure that I had never seen him before, nor did I recognise his voice. He was dressed in a plain suit of chain mail and rode a plain horse. His sword was also… boring. It was dull and unornamented."

I nodded. I smelled a disguise, which was significant, but it didn't help us identify who it was that had come to pay a visit.

"I was told to go and wait in the other room as there was private business to discuss. As it turned out, the cottage wasn't just his love nest, but it was also the place where he had the meetings that he didn't want to be talking about in public."

"You listened didn't you."

"Of course." She said, seemingly affronted. "I was Sir Alain's mistress now. I knew it and he knew that I knew it. Whether he knew that I was putting away some of the gifts that he had given me against the day that he grew bored of me or not, I have no way to check. But there are more than one kinds of treasure and information might be invaluable. If only because it might give me a clue as to where to go when I was thrown out. Or even where not to go."

I nodded. It all made sense. "I wasn't condemning you." I told her and she calmed.

"They made small talk for a while, talking about business and things. I noticed that the other man had a harsh voice, I rather thought he was a foreigner. Strange to Toussaint. He was also more concerned with trade routes than others might be. He had a hold over Alain of some kind although I couldn't tell what it was. Certainly, Alain was behaving in a subservient manner. He was looking for the foreigner's approval in some way. Offering drinks, cakes, that kind of thing."

I nodded again. That was important information.

"Then they got to talking about their plans. It seemed that things were moving into place to their satisfaction. There had been a set back to the first part of their plans it would seem. Something had gone wrong. Their first "target" had not gone well but the recovery had been made. Alain had seemed to sympathise. I remember him saying something like "That's what you get for hiring amateurs." The other man agreed.

"But apparently they both answered to a third man. This man had come up with an alternative. This man had suggested the idea of using the pretense of Jack in the matters of things. That would mean that less would need to be involved. That the superstitions of the peasants would work against "them" which I took to be talking about the Knights of Saint Francesca given the context.

"Accordingly, things were turning out well in that regard. That the Knights hadn't caught proper wind of things yet but things were moving. Soon they would be able to move onto some proper targets. The stranger asked Alain if he could suggest any more targets that might provoke scandal. Alain asked what kind. He was told "girls who rejected your advances. Alain gave him a list of names."

"You are sure that that was what was said?" I wondered. "Proper targets?"

"That was what they said. They were working up to some people that they needed to die. I don't know why they didn't just go straight into those targets but… It seemed as though they wanted diversionary names."

"Was one of the names "Marie Tratamara?"" Guillaume wondered

"It was. Alain suggested it to the other man as someone that had rejected his advances. I didn't know who she was or I would have warned her too, I swear I would."

"It's alright." I reassured her. "What did they say then?"

"Alain said that he was becoming impatient for that part of the plan to move on. That things at home were becoming tiresome and that his wife was spending more and more time moping off with that friend of hers rather than properly staying at home and loving him the way that a wife should."

""And it will free you up to marry…" The other man said. The way he said it left me certain that he was talking about me. The way he tailed off suggested that he nodded towards my door.

""Yes of course." Alain said. I remember it clearly.

""Is she pregnant yet?" THe other man asked.

""Not yet. Although it isn't for lack of trying. Like my wife, she is stubbornly refusing to get pregnant." Alain replied.

"I was a little upset at this. I was not averse to becoming pregnant, it would more closely bind Alain to me. It would mar me even further in public but it would mean that my exile would be more comfortable. And having a child to love… I hoped that it would help mend my broken heart a little.

""Yes well." The other man seemed uncomfortable. "You should devote yourself to the matter more surely. I am not the only one who has noticed you in the company of Lady Bescond."

""I need to maintain my…" Alain was defensive so I knew he had been caught out."

""Yes you do." The other man agreed. "But the girl will make our plans that much simpler. Getting her pregnant will ensure that she is properly compliant with what we need her to do.""

""She is young." Alain said. "Once my wife is... removed then she will fall in line at the promise of a proper marriage rather than life of shame."

""I agree." The man said. "However I also agree with the others that point out that it would ensure matters more if she is pregnant."

"I withdrew from the door then and started to make some other plans of my own. I was angry and disappointed. I will admit, as I say, to not being averse to the idea of marrying Alain. He was handsome and charming enough when he wanted to be. Nor was I resistant to the idea of being pregnant by him. But I was hurt by the truth that I was clearly an afterthought. He had been sent to me. Instructed to seduce me. It was neither my position, charms or looks that had drawn him to me.

"That hurt. That really hurt. It might make me naive, childish and girlish, but I hated that I had been so easily seduced. I started going over all the events that had led me to this point and this place. The threat of bandits, the injuries that I had helped heal. All the things that he said or did that made me love him that little bit more.

"I wept at the betrayal and I still wept when he came to me that night, presumably with a view to attempting to follow his instructions. He asked me why I was weeping and I told him that I wept at the sudden premonition that I might lose him. That he believed me is still astonishing to me."

"Men believe what they want to believe." Ariadne told her.

Guillaume grunted in agreement. "Especially when it comes to matters of a lady's affections."

I was astonished at Guillaume's cynicism there.

"I wondered whether any of it was real. Any of it at all." The girl seemed to have missed the fact that we had been talking. "I thought about the scars from that night when he had "saved me" from the bandits. I remembered how straight they were and how… shallow they were. To the point that they did not leave a scar after a matter of days. I remembered all the stories about brave warriors that are covered in scars to their front which always show that they faced their enemies rather than turning their backs on them. And then I tried to think of any of the other scars that my lover had over his body. I realised that he had none.

"He chose his fights. I was aware of his reputation about his skills with a sword but then I knew. He chose his fights. He didn't defend me, he didn't defend Toussaint. He chose fights where he knew he could win.

"I remembered the ease with which he climbed aboard his horse the day after he had been injured. I remembered that and all the other ways that he had convinced me that I was in danger. All the other ways that he made me believe that he loved me… and then…" She sobbed.

It was an odd thing to watch. She seemed to clench up as though every muscle in her entire body just fired at the same time. She visibly gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut. And then it seemed to drift away from her. All of that emotion that had her in the grips of whatever it was that was going on just seemed to gradually drain away, as though it was water swirling down a hole.

And she opened her eyes.

"I hated him then. I felt less of him and in the early hours of the morning, I finally started to calm down and go over what he, and this other man had said. The main thing that stood out was that they referred to various "targets" and one of those things was about how Alain's wife would be removed. The suggestion was that I could then take her place.

"My father had insisted on ensuring that I had a proper education in certain matters. I was also well aware of my potential status. I thought, and still think really, that the entire thing was ridiculous. I would have been much happier if he had let me go off and be some farmer's wife, to tend to family and a house of my own. But I could see the danger. I was going to be used as a weapon against the Duchess. I was going to be a tool to allow Alain to sit on the throne of the Duchy. I could see it quite clearly. I guessed that the "targets" were going to be people that would undermine and disrupt the protection of the Duchy and it would culminate with the death of the Duchess and that I would be produced as a living heir.

"I had little doubt that Alain was a figurehead. He was charming, handsome and skilled with a blade. But it was all the surface. I knew that now. It was a mask to get on with things. He would be a puppet and there were others behind him that would take advantage of that and use his naivete, and mine, against us. And then, at some point in the future, I would no longer be required and something would happen to me. Leaving Alain as our Duke and leaving him free to marry for politics, or to marry a younger and prettier face than my own.

"And I decided, in the early hours of the morning that I wouldn't stand for it."

"Hold on." I jumped in. "I just want to go back to the stranger that met with Sir Alain."

"Don't call him that." Countess Vasseur snapped. In that moment, I began to see the Countess, the noble woman that she could become if she was allowed to grow up and survive. I even think that she would make a good Duchess given the chance. "Do not call him that. He is not a Knight. There are good men and fine warriors that deserve the title more than he does. There are women, villagers and farmers that have done more for the Duchy than he has even dreamed of doing. Call him Alain. He barely deserves even that much."

I nodded. I had an almost overwhelming urge to bow.

"What else can you tell me, tell us, about the stranger?"

She closed her eyes and leant her head back. "He was tall, a little shorter than Alain, but still tall. He was in disguise and I never saw his face."

"What did his voice sound like?" I asked. "You said that he sounded foreign?"

"Yes. Yes he did."

"What did it sound like. Did it sound like my voice?"

"No, it was a rounder sound. A little more clipped."

"I suppose I should ask the obvious question. Did you recognise the voice? Or the accent?"

"No. I think he was disguising his voice. Especially in front of me. He spoke quietly as well so that I had to strain to hear him through the door. I didn't know the accent. Sorry. I don't hear many different accents in living with my Father."

"That's alright." I said, leaning back.

"What about his armour?" Guillaume asked. "You said it was dull and plain. Was it polished, like mine?"

"No. It was dull and grey. Tarnished and scarred."

Guillaume nodded. "How did he move in it? Was he comfortable, was he used to it? Did he move easily?"

She thought about this for a while. "He seemed used to it. He certainly seemed to move well enough." She thought a bit more. "He groaned when he sat down on a chair. And," she grinned at a thought. "His armour made him look overweight. You see that occasionally with some of the older Knights that occasionally came to visit father. Men who have not been in the saddle as much recently and attended a few too many rich banquets."

Guillaume nodded. "Thank you."

"You were telling us about your early morning schemes." I prompted.

"Yes." She took a sip from her drink and frowned. Guillaume offered her a top up. "I reasoned that I was probably safe. They needed me for their plans. So I decided that I would have a certain amount of leeway. They could threaten me, but not only did they need to keep me safe and happy, but I thought that no-one else I knew was at risk. If Father was threatened or... " She swallowed. "Or killed. Then I would not be so malleable. They knew this so I.. naively," She grimaced. "Thought that I could get away with it. I would need to be careful. I couldn't go too far or they would cut me out and I wouldn't be able to help anyone.

"The one target that I knew about was Lady Moineau. I had seen her around in Beauclair on those times that I had been into town. She is not hard to miss. There is… was… this cloud of gossip that followed her around. This wave of sympathy for her and her circumstances. I had no idea that things were so bad for her or I would have felt more guilt. I only found out that that was the case when I went looking for her. I soon learnt that the story about her dying or living in disgrace was just that. A story. The common accusation was that the reason that there were no children was because Alain was too busy chasing after other women than being at home in his marital bed. I felt… sorry for her. But I found her eventually and arranged to have someone pass her a note."

"We know about the note." I told her. "We know that you met her in front of the Nilfgaardian embassy."

"She did not take it well. But I suppose, how do you take news like that well. Here was this younger, prettier girl telling her that her husband had a mistress, in the figure of said younger, prettier girl. And that her husband was planning her death. I handled it badly. Of course I did, but in the flip of my earlier comment, how do you do such a thing differently.

"She grew angry. Called me a liar and threatened to call the Watch before she stormed off. I told her that she could leave a message with a dressmaker that I like and trust. I had become a regular customer there since my… being taken in by Alain.

"And then I waited. I waited to see if I would overhear anything else. If there was some other way that I could counter Alain's or the people he worked for, plans. But nothing came up. And then, it will have been last night… A Witcher came to my door. And by door, I mean he climbed through the back window into the house.

"I remember wanting to scream."

"A lot of people have that reaction when they first see Kerrass." I couldn't help it. The line just popped out of my mouth before I could have a chance to head it off.

"I can agree with that." Ariadne added. "Although I was busy decomposing at the time."

We were rewarded by the young Countess giggling at the thought. "He was dirty, pale, his eyes seemed to glow a little bit and there were these thin spidery lines underneath his skin. There was a moment there where I could have sworn that he had fangs."

"I knew it." I cheered to much amusement. And by amusement I mean that there was some wry chuckling.

"I opened my mouth to scream and he gave this strange series of gestures to me and I found myself calming down when he told me so. Then he told me to stay where I was as he strode over and listened at the door.

""Who else is here?" He asked and I told him about Elise who was probably asleep at that time of night. It should be said that I was in a nightdress. I had long since decided that Alain was not going to be visiting that night and as such, I had changed into some warmer, heavier clothing rather than the thin, sleeker material that Alain prefers me to wear, the better to protect myself against the cold. I was suddenly filled with all of the old stories about the unnatural lusts that a Witcher must suffer through."

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut, but I won't lie. It was a close run thing there for a second.

"He prowled around the room for a while, he had this strange, silvery medallion in his hands that he was waving around as he looked inside my wardrobe, in the drawers that I kept my… more personal items in. I wanted to complain. I wanted to shriek my outrage but I just couldn't.

"When he was satisfied, he turned to me and looked me up and down. I am aware of what I look like and I am aware of how my… body as well as my rank and background, can make me more attractive to the average male. I have seen appraising looks where people look at me with lust in their eyes. But there was none of that here. He was… appraising. As though he was trying to guess how valuable I was.

"He didn't waste any time. He pulled a small bottle from his belt and drank it off at a swallow. His eyes stopped seeming to have their strange glow, his skin became closer to a normal colour and even as I looked, I could no longer see fangs, or the black lines that had seemed to dance under his skin.

""I can see why he likes you." Were his first words.

""Why who likes me?" I demanded.

""Come now Lady." He said. "From everything I have heard about you, you are far from foolish. The fact that you have a large stash of gems, small coin and several other valuable items under a hidden floorboard, over there next to the chest of drawers, speaks to that. However, I would suggest that in the future, should you need a hiding place, I would recommend against a floorboard that squeaks when you move over it."

""Where should I hide things then?" I demanded. "Underneath my pillow?"

"He had a strange, half smile. "No, that would be worse. If you are confident that you are not going to be stripped naked or searched, then you should have them on your person. If that is impossible, they should be kept in a spot well away from the house. Someplace that only you could think of. Somewhere safe and secure where no wanderer, or monster would find them. It is no good hiding them in a cave if the cave is then inhabited by a swarm of Kikkimores."

""I shall remember your advice." I told him, doing my best to disguise how scared I was.

"But he knew. He stared at me for a long time before turning away, finding a chair and sitting in it.

""Would you believe me if I told you that I meant you no harm." He asked.

""No." I responded carefully.

""Good. I do not of course. In fact, I believe that I am here to thank you."

""Oh?" It was not the wittiest thing I could have said. Indeed, I have spent some time since decrying the thing and thinking of other things that I could have said instead.

""You tried to warn Lady Moineau of the danger that she is in?" He asked. Of all the things that I was expecting him to come out with, it was not that. How to connect the presence of a Witcher, not even the famous local one, climbing into my bedroom window and walking around. I can't remember what I said, I might even have said nothing.

""I see that you are." He said. "And you are the Mistress of Alain de Moineau?"

""How do you know that?" I snapped.

""I knew he had one." The Witcher responded. "A man like that always has at least one. The local people on his lands are not that pleased with the matter and they do their best to tell him of their dissatisfaction whenever they get the chance. One of the ways that they manage that is by telling me, a Witcher, which path he takes at night. From there it was a matter of tracking him through the woods."

""He claims great skill at his wood craft." I felt an absurd urge to defend him.

""I have no doubt he does, claim so at least. But there is only so much you can do to hide the passage of a war horse and a man in full armour. And he lacks the true paranoia of a man who knows that he is being hunted by something that could easily kill him."

""Can you?"

""Can I what?"

""Easily kill him."

"He seemed to consider that.

""I don't know." He said. "I would rather like to find out though. Sometime soon preferably, but he is in the city at the moment and that could mean one of several things." He seemed to drift off into thought for a moment and I suddenly had the realisation that he hadn't slept properly in a while. I was just about to prompt him, make a break for it or do something else that was probably foolhardy when he shifted and started to speak.

""As I say," he began. "I came here to thank you. For warning Lady Moineau. I only hope that your warning didn't come too late."

"A realisation hit me. "You are Lady Moineau's lover." Rather foolishly, I had said aloud but in my defence, it was in the early morning, I was cold and painfully aware that I was naked under my night robe.

"He raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure that?"

""A mistress recognises a Paramour when she sees one."

"He snorted at that. "Yes, I supposed that is what I am."

""You love her too, just as I love Alain."

"He had gone into one of his long trains of thought again and was startled by my statement. "No." He said after a moment. "No, I don't love her. My heart is given elsewhere to a person that I cannot love. Nor she me."

""How very Toussaint of you." I heard the anger in my own voice and regretted it almost straight away.

""Yes." He admitted. "Unrequited love is a thing that you people seem to worship." Then his eyes narrowed. "Just as you love Alain, but he does not love you back. He has no room in his heart for anyone or anything except his own reflection."

"I burst into tears. It was true what he said. I knew it was true, it had always been true. I would just be a pretty thing to hang off his arm, even if we did marry. A pretty ornament and a route to power. But it is one of those truths that you do not want to hear. Even while I knew it to be true, I did not want to hear it.

""You deserved that." He told me, he was right about that too. "I love the idea of her. I love the thought, the fantasy of the beautiful noble woman who falls in love with a Witcher. I might come to love her, given enough time. But she loves Alain as well. Too much to allow that kind of thing to continue. Which is the other reason I can't just murder Alain in his bed. It would break her heart. No matter how tempting it is."

"He was not joking as he said that and I felt myself becoming afraid.

""Still." He said rising to his feet. "As I say, I am grateful and as a result, I would pay you back if I can. They will know, by now, that you warned her. The man in charge of their little group is not about to forgive that kind of thing and they will see to it that you are punished for it. Probably fatally."

""They cannot dare kill me." I told him. "They need me."

""Oh. Why?"

"I told him about my heritage and what I had overheard.

""That is interesting. It does fit in with what others have told me or suggested. They are destabalising the rule of law and the rulership of the Duchess. And they will replace her with you. The last targets will be the Knight Commander and maybe the Duchess." He seemed to be thinking aloud to himself. "Then there will be a need for an heir. Out you come as the heir apparent and everyone will fall in line. It is a clever scheme. It will probably even work. The noble daughter, hidden in a peasant's hut. The romance of such a thing will appeal to the common man and woman of Toussaint."

""Targets." I finally growled. "What targets?"

"He stared at me in surprise. "You are aware of the Jack killings?"

""I am."

""I do not know for certain." He told me. "But my friends and I are pretty certain that your lover is part of a conspiracy using the spectre of Jack to hide a series of murders. Those murders are designed to undermine confidence in the Duchess' rule and the protection of the Knights of Saint Francesca. There are others as well but we don't know who they are."

"I was staring at him in shock. I didn't want to believe it. But it felt true. He was telling me these things in a flat, matter of fact way.

""These others will not hesitate to kill you." He told me. "But before that, they will torture you in order to find out exactly how much you know as well as how you came to know it. They are ruthless, cunning and utterly without sympathy to your plight. I would be willing to believe that they already ordered Alain to seduce you and they view you, and your entire gender, as being little more than tools to be turned to their hands.

""I have spent most of this night doing my best to ensure Lady Moineau's survival. If she makes it to the morning, then I can have her smuggled out of her lands and towards freedom. I hope that we can then use whatever she knows to be able to start to unearth the people that are behind all this. But for tonight, she is completely in their power. I have done all I can for her as those lands are heavily guarded and I cannot get near her."

"He rubbed his eyes. "Believe me when I say that I have tried."

""But in the meantime," He went on. "If they catch her, if they question her, they will learn of your involvement. And there men are perfectly capable of adjusting their plans to include your death. They have shown the ability to adjust their thinking long before now. You should leave. Take your valuables and go. Tonight. Now. Immediately. They only kill one person a night, but they could just as easily take you in the morning and keep you somewhere so that they can kill you at their leisure tomorrow. And these poor women are dying hard."

"He finally turned to go. "Lady Moineau did not heed your warning and it might very well have killed her. Do not make the same mistake that she did."

"And then he was gone.

"To my lasting shame, I didn't listen. I told myself over and over again that Alain loved me and that he would never hurt me. That I was essential to those plans and no-one would do anything to jeopardize them. I even slept for a short while.

"I did not sleep for long though. Nor did I sleep well. And it might be this last thing that saved me. I woke early, dressed and went into the main room of the house. I could hear the splashing of water and I assumed, like she always did, that this would be Elise the maid drawing up the water out of the well. I went to check though…"

I couldn't help myself. I nodded in approval.

"... And what I saw was that it was some guard that I did not recognise hauling the water out of the well. Elise was standing nearby reporting to another guard. She was gesturing back at the house. She seemed calm, collected and withdrawn. A far cry from the almost timid maid that I had known previously. Looking past them, I could see that there were other men in the trees. They were spreading out and I panicked.

"I ran into the other room, slamming the door when I should have been quiet. I unearthed my valuables and ran for the window. The same window that your Witcher friend had climbed through earlier. I was out and into the tree line in a flash where I hid and watched what happened. Some guards came crashing through the trees to cut me off without realising that I was already beyond them. I could see a guard going through my things which made me stupidly angry. There they were, planning on killing me and the thing that I was angry about was the fact that they were going through my clothes?

"I waited until it was clear that they were going to mount a search for me and then I fled. What the Witcher had said about men in armour moving through the trees turned out to ring true. I could hear them coming long before they would find my trail and I had grown up playing in the trees surrounding my Father's cottage. I soon lost sight of my pursuers. This was still in the early hours of the morning.

"I found a horse in a stable nearby and rode out quickly. Heading for my father's cottage. He was still there and was suitably angry with everything that I had to tell him. But he pointed out that in my panic to get as far away as possible, I had run to the one place where I would almost certainly be looked for straight away. He advised me to flee. When I asked where I should go, he suggested the Witch on the grounds that I had obviously been betrayed by a man and she was known to help such women. I took some supplies and followed his instructions. The Witch took me in and kept me prisoner. You know the rest.

"So there is my story sirs. Once again, I find myself at the mercy of men that hold all the power. I would like, if at all possible, to strike out at my enemies. But beyond that, what would you do with me?"

I regarded her for a while. She honestly looked as though we were going to demand that she give in to amorous advances there and then.

"I would speak with Sir Guillaume a moment."

"I will stay with the Countess." Ariadne said "And we will speak as girls do."

"But you're not a girl." The Countess protested again, a little more humourously.

"I am certainly the female of the species and that means…" Was the end of the argument that we heard as we walked away.

We walked towards the cottage and watched it smoulder for a while.

"What an awful story." Guillaume said. "I mean I know that such things happen. I know that it is not uncommon for people, Ladies as well as Lords, to take a lover, house them in some out of the way cottage, and then use them. I even know that it happens to people younger than her. But to hear it like that. She sounds like an old, experienced woman. Not a girl of sixteen."

"It doesn't just happen here." I told him. "There are stories from all over the North. Kerrass has hunted so many wraiths that I know of, that are the results of just this kind of life. Indeed, I wonder if Lord Geralt will have his work made for him in a decade or so, with the spirits of these dead women that were slain by "Jack" start to come back to life."

Guillaume nodded. Another one of the cross beams of the cottage gave way and fell into the mass, sending a stream of sparks into the night sky.

"Well," Guillaume said as he peered at the moon. "By my reckoning, we have a few hours before midnight which is when Jack likes to strike. If he hasn't already. So what do we do now?"

"I have no idea." I told him. "We believe that Alain is involved but we can't prove it. Does her word equal his word in the courts of Toussaint?"

"It might, if she had a champion to fight for her corner. But Alain wins that challenge, every single time. Even if I was on my best day, and he was on his worst, then he would probably win an honour duel and that would be the end of the matter. If it's just her word against his, he could swear down that he never met the girl except in passing and that she was lying. With no champion to step forward, or worse if a champion did step forward and was soundly beaten."

He shrugged. "The Knight Commander claims that she is talking to the Duchess about removing the trial by combat from our legal system. I don't think she will manage it though. It's part of Toussaint as surely as her Knights are."

"So we have a girl's word. We know he did it but we can't prove it."

"So what do we do now?" Guillaume asked.

I still didn't have an answer.

(A/N: Well, that got away from me a bit. Thanks for your patience everyone and I will post again soon. Please stay safe)