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

151. Chapter 151

(A/N: Warning. Lots of exposition, foreshadowing, and scene-setting here)

(Warning: Animal death)

Emma lost her temper with me this morning.

Over the last few weeks, since I came home, she has become frustrated with my generalized sense of ennui, and overall… sulkiness is what she called it.

It took me a while and a long walk along the walls of the castle, but I am finally forced to admit that she has a point and that I deserved it.

And she does, I can't have been a good person to be around recently and I didn't know what to do about it. To Emma, it seemed that the answer was obvious.

"You're letting your readers down Freddie" She insisted.

"But Emma," I protested. You have to understand that I am paraphrasing a lot here. "The articles are done. I'm finished. There is nothing new to say on the subject. I have fulfilled my promise to those readers. There is nothing new to say about Witchers or what life is like with those Witchers. I promised that they would see what would happen when I went to go and see the Elder and they saw that. There is nothing else for me to say."

"Bollocks." She said. My sister can be pretty eloquent when she puts her mind to it.

"Emma, the rest of the stuff that I might want to say is tied up in the book that Yennefer is busy catching up on."

"Bollocks to that too."

I stared at her for a long moment, feeling a certain welling up of hurt and anger. "Alright then, miss smart-ass. What should I write about?"

She took on this kind of high-handed, big sisterly kind of air as she looked down at me a little bit.

"Freddie, I receive mail too."

"Yes I know, by the sack load. Far more than I get. It's almost enough to make a man feel inadequate. But what's that got to do with..."

"Oh leave your precious ego out of this for just a moment would you." She snarled. "I get mail too."

"But I bet most of it is about the trading company," I let my temper show, "followed by the wedding and people trying to ooze their way into getting an invitation so that they can get their slime all over you and the Empress and everyone in between."

"Well… yes…. But that's not the point."

"What's the point then Emma?"

"A good part of that mail is about you."

I considered this for a moment. "That makes me feel better actually."

She threw something at me. Not hard so it was relatively easy to duck. I might be rusty with my fighting skills but I am not that rusty. I think it was one of those wooden hoops that you feed napkins through to keep them tidy.

"So I also know," she went on while I cautiously straightened up from behind the table where I had ducked. "That you have been ignoring your post."

"Now that's an outright falsehood." I protested. I have done nothing of the kind. I have spent just about all of my time answering those letters."

"And yet you still don't give the readers what they want."

"What they want, Emma, is for me to keep writing. Leaving aside the fact that I'm getting married in a few months, that I also have books to write, research to do, Yennefer chapters to read and discuss with her… All of which I am trying to do between doing some lectures at the university and attending some social things in Oxenfurt and Novigrad that you don't want to go to."

"As you offered to do." She retorted. I ignored that.

"But all I do is answer that mail. I stay up nights answering the post. What more do you want me to do?"

"Give them what they want."

"There is nothing else to write about. I'm done. Finished. Run out of ideas. Got nothing else to say. No more topics to address."

"And again, I say, Bollocks."

For those people wondering. Laurelen had vanished into her laboratory early on in all of this, taking her bowl of porridge with her. Looking back, I wondered if there was some kind of signal between the two of them to let Laurelen know that Emma was going to have "words" with me later that morning.

"So again I say, sister mine, What should I write about?"

"Well, obviously, I can't speak for the letters that you have received." She began with sarcasm dripping from every word, "But over and over again, people are asking me to get you to write about a monster hunt. They want a good old-fashioned monster hunt. Something where Kerrass got his teeth into something and then didn't let it go until the…"

But that's boring." I said. "There are loads of those and they always go the same way. Kerrass gets the contract. Kerrass researched the contract in a couple of ways. Then, when Kerrass has decided that he knows what the monster in question is, he goes to have a look at the monster to see how right, or how wrong he is. When he's done that and adjusted his thinking in a couple of ways. He destroys the monster before getting fucked over on the promised payment. There is nothing else to it. It's boring, repetitive, insanely tedious, and utterly, utterly terrifying."

"Then maybe you should say that."

"I HAVE." I roared at her.

Emma narrowed her eyes at me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I feel like I'm waiting for the rock to fall, the other shoe to drop. I feel like I'm not doing anything worthwhile while, at the same time, my entire life is filled with pointless nonsense. I don't do anything. I've never been busier in my life but I feel useless. Like the fifth wheel on a wagon. But I shouldn't have yelled."

"No, you shouldn't." She agreed before taking a deep breath of her own. "But I forgive you and I understand that I've been pushing you recently. You're not useless Freddie. Everything you do has substance otherwise I wouldn't ask you to go to Novigrad to dine at the Hieraarch's palace. Whenever you give a lecture, you educate the people of the continent that little bit further so that they understand what is really going on out there. And when you answer someone's letter, you let them know that they matter. That you have read what they are sending you and they feel as though they matter to you."

"Which they do," I told her.

"There you go then." She said. "Also, just for the record. I was recently approached by a dwarven inventor who claimed that the fifth wheel on another axel is indeed pointless. However, six wheels closer together might help spread the load on the rear of a wagon."

I frowned. "I'm not sure how that would work."

"Neither am I but he thought that it might mean that bigger wagons could be built in order to carry more things."

frown deepened. "But the roads are only so wide. Surely we are limited by how wide the roads are in that regard."

"I agree, but he wanted some investment so I gave him some money and told him to come back with a working prototype. But we're getting off-topic.

"You are a hero to many." She told me as I cringed. "No," she insisted. "You are. You are a symbol of what can happen if a person steps out into the world in order to really see what's going on. The Conjunction has brought more monsters onto the continent and you have shown people how dangerous it is out there, as well as what can happen if people go out there unprepared. You have displayed all of your frailties and all of your passions. People have read along with you for several years now. SO as well as a monster hunt, they want to know more about your life. They need to know what is happening.

"And then they want you to tell them about a monster hunt."

"Which one?" I wondered with a certain amount of acid.

"I seem to remember a monster hunt that you promised everyone that you wouldn't go on. The monster hunt that happened immediately after you swore, to my face, that you were done with following Kerrass around for a year or two. The one where you…"

"Yeah ok. I get it."

"Right, good. I shall have some more paper and ink sent to your study and send a message to the magazine editor to let him know that you will have some new articles for him soon on the subject of your journeys with Kerrass."

"He's going to tear me a new asshole before he tries to fleece me for as much money as possible."

"Because you let him get away with too much. I shall negotiate this new agreement."

"Emma, he is also my friend. Please don't alienate him too much."

Emma had poured herself another cup of coffee. A drink that she had taken from Ariadne and now drinks far too much of for my comfort. More than two cups and I start to feel jittery and Emma seems to drink it by the barrel.

"I can make no promises." She said, leaving the room, taking the coffee pot with her.

So here it is. I know that I told you all that these articles are done and they are after this story. At least, they will be for a long time. I am told to never say never but at the same time, marriage, feudal duties and, so on. The hunt that Emma is referring to is that hunt that took place immediately after we went to see the Elder. Not immediately afterward as it took some time to develop.

I also want to say that when I wrote that the articles were done and that there would be no more of them, I absolutely meant it. And I thought that that was true. I wrote those last articles regarding my visiting the unseen Elder on the Dining table of Corvo Bianco, while a trio of Sorceresses got very excited about the notes that I had brought out of the caverns of Tesham Mutna. At the time, I absolutely intended to spend some time reconnecting with Ariadne, redoing some of the conversations that we had had in the past, that now seemed to be on a little bit of a shaky footing, and taking advantage of some of the offers of hospitality that I had been given from around Toussaint.

Kerrass waited for a long while. He had reverted back into being Kerrass-the-ever-present-nursemaid and he was watching Ariadne's and my interactions like a hawk. Eventually, though, he decided that we were as secure as we were going to be after he caught the pair of us standing together under one of the spring blossom trees on the Corvo Bianco estates, where I was putting a flower in her hair. After making loud retching noises he packed his gear and left shortly afterward, southwards in the direction of the Black Forest in order to hunt, find, or otherwise make contact with the Schatennman.

Reader, I lasted a week.

Just that, I was kind of disappointed in myself later, but at the time, I was just excited enough to get back on the road with Kerrass.

I lasted a week after his departure South before I finally lost my temper with everything, including myself, and departed, extracting a promise from Ariadne that she would tackle Emma on my behalf, I was back on my way, riding hard to catch up with the Cat Witcher who was, it has to be honest, not that pleased to see me. I mean, he might have been, a little bit, deep down, but when he actually saw me and he had convinced his companions that I wasn't some hit squad that was sent to kill them all, he let me have it.

And I can't say he was wrong to do so. But at the time, I didn't care. I was on the road and I was happy. And I also knew that Kerrass shared in my happiness, at least a little bit.

Why was he happy? Because he didn't entirely trust the people that he was traveling with.

But I'm getting ahead of myself in the story. Let's start with the recap of things to bring you up to date with how I'm doing.

As I write this, I am sitting in my study in Coulthard castle. There has been some restructuring since I was last here. Not least because the castle is going to play host to the greater share of continental nobility in the weeks and months to come. The preparations for all of this are already underway and there is a frantic air in the castle of people getting ready and preparing themselves for the coming of the storm. The guards are being mercilessly drilled by Sir Rickard who has now been permanently installed as the captain of the guard. Armour is being polished to within an inch of its life, swords and other weapons are being sharpened, polished, and oiled and even if nothing else is achieved, visitors to the castle will be able to see their faces in the breastplates of the men standing on the walls.

That is not the only thing that is happening. Rickard is overseeing a radical overhauling of the castle's defenses. His argument is that he is going to be responsible for the safety of some very important people in the near future and he wants to be able to vouch for every effort that can be made to guarantee that safety.

This effort has been taking place since long before I returned home, apparently. Since the retirement of the previous Guard Captain and Rickard's taking over, there have been changes to the rank structure and the organization of the castle guards. Under my Father's care, the castle was a very traditional one. Soldiers, wearing armor, standing in lines, with all of the standard siege defenses in place. Father had used this as a sign to show all of his peers that he was a traditional man when it came to military matters and that he would be able to defend Coulthard castle against any encroaching threats. That was one of the many different ways that Father tried to ingratiate himself with the court of Redania.

Emma didn't see fit to change any of this on the grounds that she didn't know that there was anything wrong. Not until Rickard turned up and started to point some things out. Rickard's opinions on the matter are that sieges should be won, long before the besiegers get anywhere close to the castle. The castle should be a trap that any attacking forces should be terrified to approach, but at the same time, have no choice but to take on.

He agrees that the walls of the castle are very impressive. He enjoyed the demonstrations of the siege engines and the various drills that my Father's soldiers performed. He particularly enjoyed the fact that Father had not had any knights under his command. Knights who Rickard describes as being "Untrained noble idiots who think that a title and the ability to afford the GOOD armor makes them better at warfare than everyone else". So he liked the military-style set up which could be based on competence rather than rights of nobility and the like.

He is also aware that when the castle hosts people like the Empress of Nilfgaard, the Queen of Skellige, and all the rest, that they will all come with their own personal guard. Many of whom will be exactly the kind of Knights that he is concerned about. So he is arranging situations, sections of the walls for these men to guard. He has set up war games in order to prove his competence and is regularly running wargames in order to prepare the castle against all attacks.

At his request, Emma has hired several mercenary companies to come to Coulthard Castle since Rickard took command in order to explain to Rickard how they would take the castle. This, after Rickard himself, and the surviving Bastards from the Northern campaign (which is what the battles against the cult of the first-born are now being called) staged a wargame where Rickard and his team of about a dozen skirmishers and archers, infiltrated the castle and made it into the keep before anyone knew what had happened. They had even made it to Emma's apartments before they were stopped.

So Coulthard Castle, as well as the walls and all of the other more traditional defenses, are now ringed with ditches and wooden walls that are deeply embedded in the resulting Earthworks. These prevent direct charges of soldiers and cavalry, while also ensuring that siege towers, battering rams, and all kinds of other siege equipment would now be useless. Why? Because to get any of those things to the walls, they would need to navigate the maze of ditches that Rickard and his engineers… yes we have an engineer corps now… have constructed.

As well as this, a Mage was hired to erect small hills around the castle walls to obscure the views of the castle from all approaches. Thus to prevent the easy sighting and aiming of siege equipment. And the same Mage has arranged any site that might be flat enough to house a siege camp or a catapult battery, has been littered with large boulders and standing stones that would need to be moved before those siege weapons would be able to be built, let alone actually set up and fired.

And all the time that the enemy soldiers would be dealing with these earthworks, ditches, and making their own counter ditches in order to prevent our sallies, they would be under fire from our, increasingly accurate, archers and siege weaponry.

Even the local villages, up to and including Oxenfurt, are not free from Rickard's meddling. Oxenfurt is protected by its own town guard and Imperial garrison. But Rickard has set up watchtowers and beacons. Little more than wooden towers with fires and oiled fuel to provide different colored smokes in order to warn people as to what might be occurring. In order to shut Rickard and Emma up, the town council of Oxenfurt has agreed to be part of the messaging system. A system that the church of the Eternal Flame approves of by the way, on the grounds that the signals are using fire.

Mine can be a simple religion sometimes.

The villages have their own instructions as to what to do in the circumstances of an attack. Where to go, who's orders to follow, and what to do. Supplies are prepared and if our entire population needs to vanish, then I am pretty secure in our ability to do just that. And ensure that any attacking army would find it almost impossible to live off the land.

The only flat area outside the castle, now, is the market square that is at the foot of the road leading up to the castle. Rickard had wanted to dig it up and change everything but Emma had finally put her foot down. Rickard had to console himself with the fact that he can fill that area with enough fired arrows, burning oil bombs, falling rocks, and whatever else that can be hurled from our castle walls so that a man would find it difficult to walk across it, should the need arise.

Other preparations are the kind of thing where, although I can see the necessity of it, I hope that these things are never used.

Dr. Shani all but lives with us at the moment. As in, she has established a surgery and a place to sleep. She's very rarely actually here as her duties to the crown often require her to be elsewhere and in the field. But she is on retainer to be at Coulthard castle for the duration of the wedding festivities and a month on either side. So if anyone gets sick or injured during the actual time of the wedding, there will be one of the finest physicians on the continent in attendance to be able to deal with it. At her insistence, we have also hired a pair of nurses whose names she provided for us.

This brings us back to my original point. I have been moved. Apparently, my status as the adopted brother of the empress as well as the future Count de Angral by marriage, means that I can no longer be expected to sleep in my old room. I told Emma and the Master of Ceremonies that I was quite happy with my old room but they looked at me for a long time before Emma laughed and the Master of Ceremonies just ignored me.

That is the other stage of preparation that is taking place. The etiquette involved in arranging as to who is going to stay in the keep and where, who is going to sleep in the guesthouses, and where is dizzying. The only time I've been in that room in the castle, I found Emma, the Herald and the Master of Ceremonies in the middle of vast stacks of books, charts of heraldry, and family trees while they tried to figure out who had precedence over who and therefore where should anyone sleep.

This might seem extreme and it certainly was to me until Emma explained.

She gave me an interesting example of the headaches that were being created here.

The Empress would be coming with a couple of her "ladies". As best as I understand it, "Ladies" are personal and private companions to the Empress that often provide certain services for the Empress that are too important to be entrusted to mere servants. Things such as hair, wardrobe, makeup, and all of the rest are administered by these women. Their other duties would involve keeping the Empress amused, advised, and entertained at all times of the day or night. They are expected to keep Imperial matters in their heads and be prepared to offer informed advice on any number of topics as well as being prepared to accept Imperial decrees at the drop of a hat. So that if the Empress stops in the middle of sitting for a portrait, inspiration striking as to what to do about the Aedirnian famine, then she can call on one of her ladies to record the decree and then issue it.

Francesca would have been one of these ladies had she survived.

Dammit.

Ok, I'm back.

But the status of being one of these women means that it can't be done as a job by commonfolk. Therefore they are often noblewomen.

Where is the headache? The Empress' seamstress is a duchess, easily on the equivalent of Duchess Anna-Henrietta of Toussaint only of a less famous province in Metinna. This means that she outranks the vast majority of guests. But she's a servant. But she's a duchess. Do you see the headache now?

Also, Emma would want me to point out that, as a family, we don't have our own herald or our own master of ceremonies. Father had need of neither as when he held a court, he was dealing with tenant farmers, small landowners, merchants, and village aldermen. The rarity was the man with a coat of arms and when that did come up, it was easy to figure out what was going on.

But for something this complex, we needed help. So the Empress sent help in the figure of one of the imperial heralds and one of the masters of ceremonies, the empress has multiple of both.

So, given this change in my rank, as well as the fact that I will be the groom making me, technically, the guest of honor, it was decided that I needed better rooms. So I have a suite up in the same wing that houses the chapel. I am alright with that part, what I am struggling with is the feeling of being a guest in my own home.

I have a bedroom, a study, and a receiving room. There's space for me to eat should I not feel like going down to the hall for dinner. I feel awkward and out of the way, almost lonely.

And I suppose that's the point. Keeping me out of the way and out of trouble in the run-up to my own wedding.

Where is Kerrass now? He's off, in his words, "running errands". I don't know what those errands are although, judging by some words and comments that he's made at various times, he is gone to pick up Father Jerome who is acting as Officiant. He is also on the make for some money. He is working on the basic contract methods, harvesting the last of the Necrophages from the battlefields in Velen. Something that he describes as boring, routine, mundane work that is only dangerous if you don't keep your head and let things get away with you.

I tried to tell him that we could give him any money that he might want but he gave me a withering look and I didn't offer again.

What does he need the money for? He needs to set things up for the inevitable stag party. I don't know who's coming. I don't know what's planned. I do know that it is set to take place a fortnight before the ceremony itself rather than the traditional night before on the grounds that, and again I quote, "You will need time to recover". It will also mean that those people attending who need to be elsewhere in the run-up to the wedding, can be elsewhere without causing too much of an issue. I'm thinking of Helfdan and the surviving crew of the Wave-Serpent who must also act as Queen Cerys' personal guard.

Ariadne's Hen weekend is happening slightly beforehand, by a couple of days. Why does she get a weekend and I only get a day? I don't know but there it is. Apparently, it's going to be attended by the majority of the lodge of Sorceresses as well as some other figures that I have been kept quiet on. It is moderately terrifying to me. I know one of them is the Duchess of Angraal and I shudder to think of what that lady will make of things if Lady Eilhart and Lady Yennefer have one of their semi-regular, "spats".

Why are the two parties offset? The answer is simple. Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Cirilla Elen Fiona Riannon of the greater Empire of Nilfgaard, Heiress to the throne of Cintra, Heiress to Inis Ard Skellig and Inis An Skellig, Princess of Brugge, Duchess of Sodden, Suzerain of Attre and Abb Yarra, The Lady of Time and Space herself, has declared that she wishes to attend both parties.

And when a woman with that many titles decides to attend a party, she can attend any damn party that she likes.

One other piece of news to answer some of the questions that have been heading my way is that Sam and I have made a tentative peace, which has led to his confirmation that he will be coming to the wedding and will attend my stag party.

Of all people, it was Sir Kristoff, now Sir Kristoff of Kalayn, who sat Sam down and told him to take his head out of his ass. Sam's words.

The reason I'm so surprised by all of this is that when I met him and spent any time working with him, Sir Kristoff and I did not get on. To me, he was the worst kind of arrogant military man who looks down his nose on anyone that hasn't actually served in any kind of military. He didn't like me for that reason and I may say that I didn't like him either for his arrogance. That situation was made worse when Sir Kristoff actively went after the Elves that did their very best to save my life and the life of Kerrass, Rickard, and my friends. If you would care for more context than that, I would refer you to my articles regarding the Cult of the First-Born. Sir Kristoff would then go on to do his very best to scape-goat those same Elves, Kerrass, Sir Rickard, and even myself for the wrong turns that were made during our flight from the cult. I will admit to cheerfully wanting to punch him in the throat.

The problem was made even worse than that when he tried to pick a fight with the members of the Knights of Saint Francesca when the Coulthard family were guests of the Duchy of Toussaint. There were some jurisdiction issues in that Kristoff wanted to provide security for Sam and the Knights of Francesca were offended at the suggestion that they were not up to the task. At the time, I remember thinking that Kristoff was just trying to make a name for himself when it comes to the matter of who is protecting who.

But according to Sam's version of the conversation, Kristoff is a younger brother and has told Sam that he would give a lot for a better relationship with his other siblings and that it was time to make peace. Apparently, the arguments went along the lines of the fact that Sam would need allies, he would need friends, and that he would need people at his side. And that should start with me.

Also, Kristoff told Sam in no uncertain terms that the issue of the trade deal falling through was just one of those things that were going to happen, that the people involved with the Jack conspiracy were scum of the highest order and that Sam was better of without him.

Sam and I are due for a long talk when Sam gets down here. Sam wants to make plans regarding what we're going to do in the future of the Coulthard family after Mark is no longer with us and he wants my input. I did write back to say that I was overjoyed with that kind of sentiment, but that I would be the Count of Angral and that therefore, he might want me to be well out of the way for that.

He refuted that rather brutally and told me that there was no future of the Coulthard family without his brother. I was oddly touched by that.

So that is another thing that is sorted out. It does mean that Kristoff is bringing some of Sam's personal guard with him and I don't envy the situation that will happen when Rickard and Kristoff are going to have to work together. I just hope that both men have some reasonable subordinates that can coordinate things with each other in a properly diplomatic way.

Or a superior in the form of a General of the Imperial Guard who can squash the pair of them.

Beyond that, preparations for the coming festivities are continuing apace. The logistical plans that are going into it all are mind-boggling to me and my hat, when I wear a hat, goes off to those men and women that are organizing it all. I tried to think about it one evening while I was sharing a drink with Rickard and Chireadean in Chireadean's inn near the castle. Rickard explained it to us like this.

"Just think about the food. I don't know the precise numbers of people that are going to turn up. But I do know that a significant number of people from the surrounding countryside are going to be at the festival part of things anyway whether we want them to or not. All of those people are going to need food and drink. So what do we feed them?"

Chireadean and I made some nonchalant noises. Chireadean runs the inn with his, now, wife, a pleasantly plump human woman who runs the kitchens with an iron fist and a happy smile. She's one of those Alewives that you thought only existed in stories until you actually meet her. Chireadean essentially met her, fell head over heels in love with her and the two appear to have a happy marriage.

Apart from anything else, she's already produced one half-Elven daughter who lives on her mother's hip with her lips fastened around the teat for milk. Apparently, she and Chireadean intend for a total of six babies.

Why six? Because Seven was too many apparently.

So Rickard, who knows about things like siege logistics started to lay it out.

"So these people are going to need a drink. What are they going to drink? Ale? Wine? Cider? Mead? A mixture of the lot. What about the children? They all need different things to drink. So there are going to be bottles and barrels of the relevant drinks. Now those barrels can't all turn up on the day, they have to turn up and be stored. But if you store some of those things for too long, they begin to spoil. So you need to vary the delivery times.

"Leaving aside the logistics for when those trade caravans need to set off, be paid for, the food that they take along the way and so on and so on. There are going to be losses on the road. Bandits, conditions, and so on. So how much do you order, when, and where. Then when it gets here, where do you store it. You can't just have a mead basement, a wine basement, and an ale basement. If it takes longer to get to one or the other then you might have problems. The castle guests are going to drink more wine than Ale with mead being an outlier. The coming villagers might drink more cider than ale but it's just as likely that everyone will suddenly and spontaneously develop a taste for mead.

"And that's just the booze. So let's talk about the food."

"Let's not." Chireadean was beginning to look queasy.

"Ok. In which case, let's talk about the grounds themselves. How many people are coming, where are they staying, who gets to stay where, where do all the servants get quarter, and so on. Then they all need to be fed before and after the party.

"From there, we know that there are going to be wedding games. Where are they going to be? There are going to be a lot of people here. I've seen the guest list. If only one person in six brings a horse then even the Coulthard stables are going to be overwhelmed. So we need to look into where else the horses can be stabled. It'll be autumn and although the sorceresses have promised that it will be nice weather on the day, there still could be rain before or after. Obviously, the Empress' horses will be stored in nice warm stables but what about the others. Will the Duke of the Upper Yaruga from Rivia and Lyria want his finest hunting horse stabled in a field when the rain comes?"

"No," I answered, I only knew the man by reputation and the question made my fists itch.

"So we need to build a temporary stable on one of the nearby fields. So timber and all of that needs to be bought. The field was a farming field and the farmer is losing his income from that field, so that loss needs to be taken into account. Also, with however many horses using the place as pasture, will that ruin the field or will it make the field all but barren for a year or two until the dung starts to be usable. I don't know but it's worth wondering.

"Then there need to be Grooms hired and tack rooms and straw and feed that need to be stored and…"

"Ok, we get the idea," I said, laughing at Cireadean's green face.

"And how about entertainment." Rickard was relentless, teasing Chireadean now. "How many lords are going to want to hunt in the late Baron Coulthard's hunting reserve. How many will want to bring their own falcons or hunting packs? Where are they going to live? Be fed and looked after?"

Rickard went on and on and on and that still wasn't an exhaustive list. I looked around the estates and the surrounding countryside with interest after that. I can't see any real ways that the landscape has changed, but I do know that I can see lots of piles of timber, rope, and so on being laid out. Serious-looking men that I don't know are walking this way and that way over the fields with bits of knotted rope and boards of slate and chalk.

Emma has called it the biggest social engagement that the continent has ever since the coronation of the Empress. And the difference there was that the Ducal palace of Beauclair was used to holding that kind of thing. Coulthard castle was originally a Redanian Garrison to protect from Temerian forces trying to outflank Novigrad. It was not really built for comfort.

I have never felt more useless in my life. A whirlwind of decisions has been passed under my nose and I don't know what to do about any of them. Mostly, and this is between you and me dear reader, the problem is that I just don't care.

I am looking forward to marrying Ariadne. We could do that in front of a priest in a deserted little chapel for all I care. She could be wearing her cream traveling robe and I could be wearing a simple shirt, trousers, and boots. Kerrass and other members of the family being there would be nice, but it is not important to my fundamental desires.

I simply do not care about what flowers I want to be festooning the chapel. Nor do I care about table stands and layings.

I swear to the Flame that there was a day where we auditioned bakers for the main cake. By the third piece of cake, it was all so rich that I could no longer pass any intelligent comment other than "I like it, it's sweet and kind of tangy."

Emma and Laurelen took it all in their stride and although busy and stressed, seem to be having the time of their lives. The baker chosen was undeniably excellent but I am also left wondering if there was any politics in his selection. I am being naive, of course, there was some politics there. With Emma and the Coulthard trading company being involved, there is always some form of politics.

So those are my days at the moment. I spend my day in a loose form of boredom, working on these latest articles, answering the mail or working on one book or another. And occasionally, a servant will come, as sent by Emma, who needs me for an URGENT MATTER that cannot possibly wait for another time. Then I am neck-deep in wedding preparation before the matter passes and I don't seem to be needed anymore. Then I wait for a while to see if the delay was accidental before I quietly make an escape. I have been out the door and on the road to Oxenfurt to get drunk with a couple of the other Professors before a servant or guard is sent to fetch me back.

Trust me when I say that time spent at the University, giving lectures and seminars feels like a holiday for me at the moment.

So that's where we are now. Frantically preparing for a wedding that still seems a long way off. If you see me in person, buy me a drink and ask me about the invitations. I had to decide on what calligraphy I wanted the scribes to use on the invitations that were being sent. I swear that this is getting out of hand.

So, is that sufficient an update on how things stand? I can't think of anything else. Please let me know if there are any burning questions that you would like to know the answers to. However, there is a caveat about certain things. I can't tell you any timing plans or anything like that. The security people will get very cross with me if I did anything like that.

Offers of goods or services are, of course, gratefully received, however, I think I am safe in saying that orders have been made to all those places and people that we expect to need things from for the foreseeable future. Should there be any need for overlap and redundancy… For instance, if our wine provider can't meet the order that we have set, then we already have backups in place. So I'm afraid that that ship has, in some cases quite literally, sailed.

Thanks for the offers though, even if some of you are getting a bit too insistent for my comfort. You need to calm it down now. Apart from anything else, I don't deal with that kind of thing. I haven't taken over the bits of commerce that are involved in Angral, nor will I if I have any say in the matter, and Emma deals with just about everything else that might be even remotely involved elsewhere.

So, that takes us back to what happened in the aftermath of visiting the Elder.

First of all, to talk about the war engine in the room. Ariadne and I are still in the process of working with each other to correct the trust issue that has crept up between us. The problem is both not as bad as you might think it is, but at the same time, it is also massively worse.

I meant what I said when I told you that the doubt was horribly insidious as it moved into both our heads. It wasn't just myself that was hurt or injured there but Ariadne was too. And that doubt, although small, is incredibly… subtle I suppose is the correct word. Even though I believe that Ariadne loves me, even if the word doesn't entirely sit well with her, there is always that doubt.

For example, she insists on buying me things in order to demonstrate her affection. She uses big words about it all but it's essentially overt demonstrations of affection. No matter how many times I try and tell her that I don't need them, she persists in the matter.

Don't get me wrong, I now have one of those Gnomish pens that sucks up the ink from a pot with a strange lever system. I am writing this to you all now with that same pen. It takes some getting used to as it's markedly heavier than just having a quill, but at the same time, it writes really well. It must have been ludicrously expensive and I was given a lecture on how, exactly, to take care of things by the dwarf that sold it, in order to make sure that the chamber that contains the ink inside the pen doesn't become damaged and start to leak.

I have a full set of new riding gear. A new traveling cloak, my armor has been remade by the finest armoursmiths of Beauclair. There are other gifts as well that I am not ready to talk about yet, save to say that they are enormously flattering and that I am incredibly grateful for the gesture.

But I had to instruct her to stop.

I know that she's trying to prove that she still loves me. I know this. I am even comfortable with that. But the doubt, that small seed that the Elder planted in my heart is still there. It makes me think that she is deliberately buying these things for me in order to continue to bind me to her. To put some kind of feeling of obligation there. And the wonder of the trap, the thing that makes it so clever, is that that's what she's literally doing. She is trying to keep me by her side, except she is doing it for love rather than the experiment.

Or rather, she is doing it for Love and the Experiment.

I still struggle with her insistence that this is the same thing.

I am trying to stop thinking about the doubt as a seed, because the danger of telling yourself that this is some kind of seed, is that seeds grow and spring into life. I am coming to prefer to think about it as a scrap of dirt or grit in my boot. A scratch on the lens of a microscope or a tiny patch of rust on the blade of a dagger. With work, it can be eradicated.

But it shouldn't take that work.

I have had time to think about this since then and for the record, I am not telling you anything that is private. Ariadne knows that I think all of this.

When Ariadne declared her interest in me, part of my fear of her was born out of the fact that I had been betrayed before by beautiful women that I had loved. It was astonishing to me that someone like Ariadne could even remotely feel anything for someone like me. So as time passed, and over and over again, Ariadne proved that she did love me, then I became increasingly comfortable with the idea. I enjoyed that process. I enjoyed coming to learn, coming to trust, that Ariadne loved me.

And with one breath, the Elder took that away from me, took it away from us. I resent him hugely for doing that.

After a flurry of gift-giving and receiving, we spent quite a bit of time just learning to love each other again. As we said that we would have to do, we redid a lot of the old conversations with the new knowledge that we had.

It was hard. I would be lying if I said it was anything else. But it was also worth it. I believe in that worth with every small part of my being. It was absolutely worth every moment that we spent with and on each other.

We spent our days walking with each other through the gardens of Beauclair or through the museums and the gardens of the other places that we visited. I forced myself to be comfortable with her monstrous shape. I made her turn into her feral fighting form a couple of times so that I could get used to the idea but at her request, her war form was to be pushed into memory.

Eventually, though, it became clear that there was nothing else that could be done for each other in that regard. We needed to back off from each other in some way and slowly we got back to work. Even that was an effort on both our parts. The first night that Ariadne returned to Angral to see to "matters" was rough. I won't like that either. I knew it would be, but going to be without a kiss goodnight and getting up without a smile and a hug to look forward to was tough.

As it was now only Kerrass and myself that were residents of the guest quarters in Beauclair palace, we felt as though we echoed in those hallways. We nearly started a diplomatic incident when we told the Duchess that we would be moving out. We were summoned into the throne room to answer the charges of undermining her or questioning her hospitality. I am relatively confident that it was all done in fun, but there was a small glint in her eye that suggested that she really was a little offended by it.

She told us that we were not an imposition and that we could stay as long as we liked. But by that stage, I was spending all my time down in Corvo Bianco anyway and Yennefer had already been making noises about my moving into the guestroom for convenience. This was so that when she realized that she was pulling an all-night work session, she didn't have to teleport up to the castle in order to discuss her findings with me or wait until the morning. It really was touch and go as to which seemed to be the most offensive in her eyes.

Kerrass and Lord Geralt went off together. According to Yennefer, Spring in Toussaint is when all the Insectoids start coming to the surface and that the Echinopsae start to bud and to seed. Kerrass still wanted to keep an eye on me though, so he was keen to keep me in sight at all times. My impression is that he found himself another lover during this time.

I know that Kerrass and Princess Dorne have exchanged letters in the time that we spent in Toussaint and Kerrass feels a little freer romantically. They intend to meet after the wedding and have a long talk. I have no idea what will come of this as I will be either sailing to, or have already arrived in Skellige by this point. I look forward to hearing about whatever comes of it though. Despite this, I should warn the romantics out there that it is unlikely to end entirely happily. Kerrass was not lying when he said that the Princess has duties elsewhere that cannot involve him.

For her part, Ariadne lasted the first night. Apparently, she was restless and could neither rest nor focus on her work and she eventually admitted to scrying me out to make sure that I was alright. She teleported back to Corvo Bianco the following evening to make sure that the parting hadn't embedded the doubt any further. She even got quite frantic on the subject for a while until Regis, of all people, settled her down a bit.

Regis was in the area. He, as well as Lord Palmerin, turns out to have a history with the Succubus Natanis. The two men are far too polite to actually have an argument about the matter. Both of them know that to a succubus, the concept of confining themselves to one person against their will is the equivalent of telling a human or an elf to literally eat shit. To the point that it will, eventually, kill the Succubus due to their equivalent of malnutrition. But my friendship and Lord Geralt's friendship with both men made life a little awkward occasionally.

Oh, and for whoever it was that complained about getting Natanis confused with Natalis. As in, Constable Jon Natalis of Temeria. I don't know what to tell you. I agree that having the two names being similar is confusing, but as I was involved in the choice of neither name, I don't particularly feel that guilty on the subject. My advice is to be very careful and not get the two of them confused. I have not met Lord Natalis but from what Sir Rickard tells me, he is a humorless man and will not take well to being confused for a famous Nilfgaardian Succubus.

Not that Natanis would care about the Nilfgaardian title. She recognises no human governance. What I do know about the lady is that she will be offended if you confuse her with a staunch humorless knight. The greatest sin that you can commit in the eyes of that particular Succubus is to be boring, humorless, and without vice.

I've lost track of where I was.

Oh yes. Regis settled Ariadne down. He took her off somewhere and they had a long talk. Ariadne stayed for dinner before teleporting back to Angral for the night. And that was how it went.

I would work during the day with Lady Yennefer. Sometimes on the book that was forming about the Elder and what he told me, sometimes on what I absolutely intended to be the final articles in this magazine. It started off that Ariadne would turn up most evenings if she had nothing else planned. She would dine at Corvo Bianco before I would "escort" her out the door and to a point outside of Lady Yennefer's wards. And then she would go home. On weekends, she would spend the rest day with me and we would take that time to travel around Toussaint, visiting with friends and reconnecting.

It was in this period of time that I instituted my rule. I wanted to put the events of the Elder behind me and I told Ariadne that that's what I wanted her to do as well. I was no longer going to bring it up and I expected her to do the same. If we really needed to bring it up, we should set aside some time and do it over a table and something to drink. However, the thought of that place and what had happened was no longer going to be a topic of conversation between two people who were in love.

Ariadne seemed delighted at the thought and threw herself into the role of being a young woman in love.

It was undeniably pleasant. I played at being the courting suitor while she played at allowing herself to be courted. The routine was only spoiled when she would occasionally "break character" to check that she was doing it right.

We even managed to drag Lady Yennefer away from her writing desk and reading couch in order to play at being chaperone with Lord Geralt. They were useless at the role. They would walk along behind us for a while in the spring meadows down by the river before we would realize that they were no longer behind us. The second time we looked… All I'm going to say is, we found them. And I shall draw a discreet veil over the rest of that anecdote.

Lord Geralt thanked us for the effort though. I still don't think we can call each other friends, but we are friendly and that night, after Ariadne had left, he and I shared a bottle of his better wine over a game of Gwent.

Best out of three full games. I am moderately certain that he let me win the second game. I was so utterly trounced in the other two games that it was a bit embarrassing.

Over a matter of weeks, while the book started to really take shape, Ariadne would reduce the number of days that she would come to spend the evening over time. She always came to visit at the end of the working week before kissing me on the cheek, looking deep into my eyes and telling me that she loved me. Then she would turn, walk a little way, cast the teleport spell before looking back at me as she walked through the vortex.

It was after one of these meetings that Kerrass declared that he was done, and it was time for him to be on the path.

It was a bit of a wrench, I won't lie. The thought of losing Kerrass was a weight in the pit of my stomach and although I wasn't really losing him in any real sense of that word, that is what it felt like was happening.

But he decided that he was getting fat and slow and he wanted to be back out there. The two sides of his nature were starting to show themselves and he was beginning to be tired of all the luxury and the laziness. It was time for him to be moving on, earning some funds which he hinted would be needed for the wedding. This was again, despite my assurances that if he needed money, that Emma would help him out in that regard.

It was always the plan, it had always been the plan for Kerrass to be on the road. I had always known that he would go off on one of the many planned expeditions that we had in mind in order to research one of the beings that we had in mind for a book. I even knew which one it was going to be. But somehow, deep down, it had never occurred to me that he might actually go.

But he sat us all down at dinner and declared that he was going to and hunt the Schatenmann in the Black Forest of Southern Nilfgaard.

To those Northern readers that are wondering who or what the Schatenmann is, (or schatennmann, Schatenmmann, or any variation on the matter. There seems to be no agreement on how the word is spelled properly) then let me explain.

In short, no one knows and because he is located in a stretch of what is largely wilderness, no one really cares either.

In the Southern part of the Empire as the land slowly melds into the mountains before you reach the maelstrom gulf, there is a large amount of, essentially, wooded nowhere. For reference, Dorne, the home of Sleeping Beauty is kind of in the middle of this area.

The entire place is made up of small mountain ranges that barely deserve the name, rocky hills, evergreen woodland, isolated rivers, and remarkably cold weather. I don't know why, given that the further south you go, it should get warmer according to sailors and those people that live in the coastal regions of that part of the world.

But inland it gets quite cold. It is further from the population centers and there are relatively few cities. There are isolated castles that breed dark rumors. In many ways, it might remind a traveler of the very Northern parts of Kaedwen.

The people there are hard men and women. Kerrass and I traveled through this part of the world when we were on our way to make an attempt to free Sleeping Beauty. Life is difficult there. Coin or money has little value, culture and education are all but nonexistent except in those places where priests and monks have traveled and have taken it upon themselves to help educate the populace.

They're not unfriendly, but they can be a bit suspicious. People will offer you a drink and some hospitality but then they will watch you while you eat and drink. They are a more superstitious people and tell ghost stories around their hearth fires that would chill the bones of even the hardiest Skelligan warriors.

Kerrass commented as we traveled through the place, that it presented an interesting paradox for Witchers that might travel to the place. It was true, that a Witcher would be able to find work there, really easily. You couldn't throw a stone without hitting some kind of Insectoid variant of the more common Endregas. Wyverns, Griffins, and Forktails are far more numerous. Drowners and spirits populate the marshlands. It's all quite pervasive. The problem with it is that the villagers, although willing to hire a Witcher, don't see the value in money. So they rarely have anything to pay the Witcher with. The town and village folk want to pay with a dozen rabbit skins, some cowhide, a few well-woven blankets, and a live rooster.

Which would be useful if he traded it the next village over for somewhere to sleep and something to eat, but it doesn't translate well to anything that a Witcher might need or want on the road.

As for trading it for goods and services in the city, the thought is laughable.

So Witchers rarely go there. Because a Witcher has to eat. And pay for repairs to armor and weapons and engage other services that are simply not found in these remote and isolated villages.

They make their living from the land. It is as though civilization is centered around Nilfgaard, the Pontar, and the Yaruga and then as you spread North and South, then that civilization starts to fade. Not that I would try and argue that with the people of the Hengfors League, or Kovir & Poviss but it seems that they are the outliers.

Ariadne once suggested that the people in this area of the world, are actually the oldest humans living on the face of the Continent. Those last remnants of those ancient races that came out of the Conjunction here rather than wherever it was that the Exiles came from.

Eventually though, as you travel through these lands, you reach a place where the roads, such as they are, seem to bend North and South. It is like there is a barrier that no road can penetrate.

Why?

The Schatenmann.

That's what the locals would say anyway, as well as the local guides and things.

That barrier, that… mass of primal, ancient woodland is called The Black Forest. I don't know why. As with so many things in that kind of area, it's just that that is what it has always been called. It is that part of woodland where all the rough woodland seems to coalesce into a single entity. It is untouched by logging efforts. There are no paths or game trails. It is just a mass of trees and associated foliage.

There is wildlife, but that is a long way ahead in the story.

Now I need to get technical before I go any further.

Yes, I know that there is a set of woodland called Caed Dhu, which translates to "Black Forest" in the Elder tongue, in Angren. I also know that this place is home to a group of druids. I have every respect for that profession and I wish them to take no insult from the tale that I am telling. But that is not the Forest that I am talking about.

I am also aware that, technically speaking, the term "Forest" does not necessarily mean a large group of trees. I know that it really means a royal hunting reserve where the royal game is kept. Hilly terrain can be a forest. As can fields and grasslands. But the locals call this area "The Black Forest" So that is what I am going to call it.

Those people that do know what and where the Black Forest is, refer to it as the last great bastion of wild woodland on the Continent. That might be unfair to places like Brokilon but it is certainly the largest. There have been little to no concerted logging efforts which have reduced its size. There have been no efforts to try and settle it. And as I say, using the hunting term of "Forest" for the place is laughable.

I have heard of no efforts to keep game or otherwise use it for hunting during my interest in the matter. Unless that hunter is some kind of otherworldly being. But again, I am skipping ahead in the story there.

Why has it never been settled? Why has it never been logged or farmed in any way?

The Schatenmann.

He is why. The locals will tell you about it, in detail, while looking at you as though you are mad and making suggestions that possibly, it's time for you to leave or that it's time for the children to go to bed.

So who, or what is the Schatenmann? Well, that's the big question, isn't it?

To the Witchers, certainly to Geralt and Kerrass, the Schatenmann is like an ultimate monster. He's like the unclimbable mountain to the mountaineer. The unpassable sea channel to the sailor and the impassable route to the explorer. He is the impossible metal for the Smith, the unmakable formula for the Alchemist…

That's a good one actually. To kill the Schatenmann is to the Witcher, what turning lead into gold would be to the Alchemist.

In other words, it's impossible, but that doesn't mean that people don't try.

For Witchers in times gone past, it was a rite of passage for a Witcher to attempt the Schatenmann. I can't speak for the other schools but both Kerrass and Lord Geralt can remember the names of those men that attempted the task and survived as well as some names of people that attempted the task and were never seen again. Geralt claimed that the last surviving man that had attempted it and survived in his knowledge was the fabled teacher of the Wolf school, Vesemir.

Both Witcher agreed that one of the things that were common to the survivors though was that they never talked about what they saw, or what happened. Why they survived and others did not. All they knew was that there was a reason. That it wasn't to do with skill, knowledge, or power. A novice Witcher taking the trial of the Mountain was known to have survived the attempt from the Viper school according to an anecdote that Kerrass claimed to have heard. While a Master of the Wolven school went and was never seen again.

(Freddie's addendum: The trial of the Mountain is a test administered to a Witcher that survived the mutations but not everything had gone to plan. They may be unable to see in the dark or might be allergic to certain potions or just unable to cast certain signs. They are given a test which is referred to as the Trial of the Mountain. Most often, that is a hunt of a particular monster that would normally involve the "thing" that the Witcher is particularly weak in. They would be accompanied by an older Witcher and generally, survival meant graduation.

Kerrass had to pass a trial of the Mountain when he recovered some semblance of sanity. He was given a test that involved the interactions with a village to see if that social pressure would return him to madness. Needless to say that he passed.)

So who is the Schatenmann? What is he?

No-one knows.

Kerrass and Lord Geralt's working theory was that he was some kind of ancient and powerful Leshen, Leshy, or Sylvan of some kind. Old and powerful. Their theory is based on their knowledge of the creature in question.

Leshen, or Leshy… There is a technical difference but I can never keep it in my head, are relicts of ancient times. They are the spirits of forests, coalesced and combined into one form.

Trying to explain it is difficult.

Ariadne once told me that there is no such thing as an individual mind of a bee. Bees operate as a single hive mind, often dictated by the Queen, and that the hive moves and acts as a whole. Ants, Kikkimores and many other caste-based insects work in the same way.

Leshen are like that. If all of the individual trees in the woodland were the individual insects of a hive, then the Leshen is their Queen.

They are nearly always malevolent. Why? Quoting from Kerrass here.

"Imagine how you would feel if a bunch of ants was turning up all the time and cutting bits off you to build their nests."

Startling thought.

It is known that the older the patch of woodland, the more powerful the Leshen. Also, the larger the patch of Woodland, the more powerful the Leshen. Powerful and intelligent.

They also have some form of intelligence. There are numerous records of Villagers that border on woodlands that are governed by a Leshen that have found ways to communicate. Offerings have been made and, in its own way, the Leshen protects and guides the community. It can be something of a harsh parent, expecting sacrifices and the like, but it does mean that the village is safe and often grows strong.

Based on this theory, we had discussed whether or not Leshen could be contacted and communicated with.

Our working theory was that, if the Black Forest of the South, in these chapters it will be called The Black forest. (Apologies again to the inhabitants and neighbors of the Caed Dhu), is the biggest and the most ancient patches of large woodland. Then the spirit of that woodland would be the most ancient and the most intelligent being that we could make contact with. If a lot of the other beings that we were trying to classify and contact had come to this continent and this sphere in general, with the Conjunction of Spheres, then the Leshen would have been here for long before that. So in theory, the Leshen would be able to tell us what the world was like before the Conjunction of the Spheres had happened. As well as being a strange, unique and ancient being themselves.

We also theorized that if the intent of the expedition was to make contact with the being, rather than destroy the being as so many of the other expeditions were based around, then it was more likely to succeed.

And this was the expedition that Kerrass meant to depart on. On the grounds that we knew where it was and that the being would not need to be tracked down before an attempt to make contact would be made. Unlike the headless horseman, the Rumpelsteldt, and various others that we have in mind.

I don't want to spoil future books in the series. Yennefer would yell at me.

Kerrass' intention was to depart with a horse full of supplies, a pouch full of potions, and to set out on the path. He wanted to take some contracts to "get his hand back in" which was also why he had been trailing around after Geralt for a while and then he was going to work his way South. As he got further and further South, he was going to hire a guide or two, maybe a local expert and a trained woodsman depending on how much he had managed to save in the meantime. He was not without hope.

Then he would do the deed before turning around and coming back.

That simple, done and done. He expected it to be a month in order to ride down there with an extra couple of weeks tacked onto the side of that for detours to hunt and meet potential hires. Then another couple of weeks to make contact with or… otherwise, hunt the Schatenmann. Then he would ride for the coast where he would find a ship that was sailing north and buy passage to home back to Novigrad, changing ships as he had to in order to make his way.

He was excited. Not for the prospect of actually meeting the Schatenmann, he had a healthy fear of so storied a hunt, but because it was one of the few times that he could hunt something with the prospect of wanting to talk to the thing without actually having to keep, in his back pocket, the possibility that he might have to destroy the creature.

That was stimulating to him and he was looking forward to the prospect.

I felt the pull of going with him that first night. After Ariadne had gone and when Kerrass had made his declaration about wanting to depart, I lay in Corvo Bianco's guest room and I couldn't sleep. Kerrass was off somewhere, chasing down one of the prettier farm-worker's daughters no doubt, or spending the evening with the Belles of Beauclair on the grounds that it would be ages before he could enjoy a decent woman. Yennefer was still working somewhere and I could see the flickering torchlight coming up from the downstairs room. Lord Geralt had gone to bed. He keeps to a fairly standard, dawn to dusk kind of a routine whereas Yennefer has a whole "when the urge to work is upon her" kind of a thing going.

But I lay there, staring at the ceiling, examining some of the artwork in the faint light of the second-hand candlelight and I was not comfortable. Don't get me wrong, despite the cooler weather, the room was nice and warm, the bed was soft and I have had many good nights' sleep in that place. But somehow, the bed was too soft, the frame was too creaky, and strange ghost itches would spread around my body with little to no warning, requiring a shift of weight, a turnover, and then a contortionist's effort to actually get to the offending body part.

Then I would feel the phantom urge to urinate and nothing would do other than I had to extricate myself from the blankets before padding across to the chamberpot in order to relieve myself. Which would, at best, produce a trickle on the grounds that I had only used the chamberpot a matter of moments ago.

I would then return to bed and to the nocturnal activity of mapping the ceiling, commenting on the artwork, and otherwise trying to convince my brain to let me get some sleep.

My brain wasn't cooperating. At the time, I didn't know why I couldn't sleep, but I later realized what I was doing on the grounds that it became a habit with astonishing speed.

I was working out what supplies I would need to pick up for the road.

The feeling got worse from there.

The following morning, I argued myself down. I kept Kerrass company while he worked with his little Alchemy set. Yennefer's Alchemy lab is off-limits to any but the most qualified of Sorceresses and as a result, neither Kerrass nor Geralt was allowed to use it.

Apparently, Letho is but that's a discussion for another time.

We talked about plans for my stag party which Kerrass refused to be drawn on so it would be more accurate for me to say that I kept asking Kerrass about the stag party and Kerrass kept refusing to answer. He eventually set aside one of the little copper bowls that he had just poured some ground herbs into that was then being heated over one of his hot rocks.

Then he looked at me.

"What's this about Freddie?" He asked.

"What?"

"You've spent the last month spending every waking hour with Yennefer working and when you haven't been with her, you've been putting the matter with the Elder behind you and Ariadne. A chore that I notice has been becoming easier and easier as time has gone on. But now I couldn't pry you from my backside with an Igni sign and a Sword dipped in Hangman's venom. What's going on?"

"I don't know what you mean." I didn't either, which Kerrass took a minute to see. He nearly got angry with me for a moment before he saw my expression and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"Your face." He pointed, leaning forward and examining his herb mixture over the flame before stirring it with a copper spoon. "You have this scrunched up, confused look that's a bit funnier than I think you are entirely comfortable with."

"This from the man that looks constipated whenever he's making the same potion that he must have made thousands of times since he left the Feline keep for the first time. What is that you're brewing? A… (Freddie: Name removed. Witcher secrets are still Witcher secrets)?"

"Close." Kerrass grinned. "It's a (removed)."

"But you've done that more often."

"I don't look constipated." Kerrass protested.

"You do, you look constipated." I tried to show him. "And that's when you don't have your tongue clamped firmly between your teeth."

"You should try doing that more often," Kerrass said. "It will keep your tongue from wagging unnecessarily and then you won't speak quite as much gibberish. And don't think you have distracted me from the original question. What's going on with you?"

I sighed. "I really don't know," I said.

Kerrass examined the mixture of dried herbs and removed the bowl from the heat. Into the bowl he poured a large measure of Lemon Pepper Vodka. This is not really a secret as any strong alcohol will do in a pinch. Kerrass liked the Lemon ones because he believed that it helped improve the flavor of the potions. Personally, I think that this was a matter of self-delusion and that it was just a psychosomatic thing. Bearing in mind that I've seen some of the things that go into those potions and I would want all the help that I can get to drink that stuff down.

He stirred the mixture a very specific number of times, counterclockwise while counting under his breath. When it was done, he poured the resulting liquid through a tiny sieve, very similar to a tea strainer, into a glass beaker, which he returned to the heat.

Then he turned back and looked at me for a long time before making a guess as to what was bothering me.

The wrong one as it happened.

"I will be fine Freddie. I survived for decades before I met you and I will do so again afterward. There have been times when you have been left behind while I have had to go off and hunt something. I will come back. I am desperate to see you and Ariadne finally get married. I want to be there and cheer while you carry her off to the marital chamber. I was there at the beginning of that whole thing and I want to be there to see all my hard work pay off. I am not going to allow some pissy little forest spirit to ruin that plan."

"Hardly a little spirit though is he," I commented.

"There are records that, providing the people in the nearby villages are respectful, then they can live and work nearby. That bodes well. He is undoubtedly cross but I can do this. And I will come back. You don't need to remind me of all the obligations that I owe you in order to keep me from doing something stupid. I am coming back, do not worry. At the very latest, I will see you in four months, but most likely around three months. That's it. You will see me riding up the path into Coulthard castle. I will mock Rickard and make jokes about sleeping with your sister. It will be fine."

I still didn't really know what it was that was bothering me about Kerrass going and his theory seemed as good as any.

"Make sure you come back," I told him. "I would rather have you at my side on my wedding day than I would have another book on something."

We hugged for a moment.

"You do know." He began seriously. "That one day, I will go out on a hunt and not come back though right? That's how this works. No Witcher has ever died in bed."

"I have heard that," I told him. "I require you to be the first. Or at least, you will do me the good grace of letting me die first. I insist upon the matter."

"Oh well, if you insist, then I suppose I shall have to listen." He had pulled out another small bottle of a dark green liquid. He used a pipette to drop three drops of the dark green liquid into the glass beaker.

Which exploded.

"Dammit," Kerrass muttered. "Temperature wrong again. For one of the most common potions that we use, you would think that they would come up with a more stable formula for it."

"The bad workman blames his tools," I told him, "or his potion recipe."

I quickly ducked the thing that he threw at me. It was a root of some kind that he needed to chop and peel. I considered stealing it but that would probably have ended badly.

So Kerrass was delayed another day while he went off and bought another glass beaker, plus a spare in case the same thing happened again.

I still didn't know what the problem was and I assumed that, given that a solution had been suggested and that the problem was out in the open, that I would be able to sleep that night.

But we were wrong and therefore, I couldn't sleep.

Or rather, I could sleep. It took me a long time to get there but I could sleep. The problem was that it was far from restful on the grounds that I had nightmares.

I sometimes have difficulty talking to people about nightmares as they normally just don't get it. It's a similar conversation to people who have headaches. When someone will say a sentence the equivalent of, 'I had a headache the other day, you just have to work through it'. Emma and I both have bad headaches which happen when we've been working too hard and overwork our minds. One time, I was in so much pain that it was obviously logical to me that standing on my head would alleviate my pain.

The logical process went like this. Rubbing my head helped with the pain. The harder I rubbed my head, the more this helped with the pain. So obviously, if I stood on my head, with all the weight of my body resting on the top of my skull, that would make the pain go away.

If you have a mental image of me, in my university lodgings, half-naked in the late spring heat, sweating with the pain and the heat, struggling to balance against the corner of my room so that I could stand on my head, you have the right idea. Funny isn't it. It wasn't at the time.

It's the same with nightmares. People tell me that they have nightmares and I look at them and want to scream.

"Really?" I want to say. "Really? Do you wake up in the middle of the night with a concerned servant or loved one desperately trying to wake you up because you've been scaring everyone. Have you woken up with your voice hoarse and your throat sore from all the screaming that you have done in the night? Have you attacked the person trying to wake you up because you feel so unsafe from the nightmare? Have you thought that the horror was so real that you have doubted the existence of the real world and wondered if it was part of the nightmare? Have you looked into the face of a loved one and wondered why they were smiling on the grounds that you saw them tortured to death before your eyes? Have you seen your soul ripped from your body before watching creatures from beyond the dawn of existence eat your soul before wondering if they could have more like that please so that the things servants turn towards your lover with hungry and calculating eyes? No? Then fuck off."

I have never said this aloud. Normally, Emma, Ariadne, or Kerrass have spotted the idiot in front of me and managed to steer me off somewhere so that I can have a shake away from all the stupidity.

As my nightmares go though, this one was not particularly graphic or disturbing, more of the disquieting variety.

I was in a clearing in the woodland. I didn't recognize the woodland or the clearing. It was dark and the brilliant night sky displayed all the stars that could be seen. I don't know if it was an entirely accurate star scape, but there were certainly constellations and formations that I recognized.

It was peaceful.

There was a stream running nearby that, in that way of dreaming, I knew was clean, fresh, crisp, and refreshing. Indeed, I also knew that there was a deeper section a bit further downstream that would be suitable for scrubbing the road dust from my body.

As I looked around, I was in the middle of fairly thick but relatively well-maintained woodland. I could see Oak, Sycamore, and Yew trees around the place. Small pathways could be seen in the undergrowth that could be places where game had broken through either recently or in the past. My horse was tied up alongside another horse that I knew was going to be belonging to Kerrass.

In the dream, I looked around for where he might be before I realized, he was off in the undergrowth collecting components for his potions. His bedroll was laid out in the way that he wanted it and the camp was all set up properly. I felt full of food, not just full, but satisfied as well.

There is a difference. You can eat canapes and finger food until you are full and I can't speak for everyone, but I am rarely satisfied by such a meal. I start to crave a sandwich or something elsewhere.

There was a pleasant buzz in the back of my mind and I guessed that Kerrass and I had been passing a bottle of something alcoholic back and forth. Knowing Kerrass, it would have tasted of apples.

It felt good, peaceful, relaxing. I had the ache of a hard days riding in my legs and lower body. The pleasant, numbing kind of fatigue, promising a deep and satisfying kind of sleep that will leave you waking up feeling refreshed. It came to me that I was putting off going to sleep and that I was going to lie down in order to do so very soon. I had spoken to Ariadne recently and we had told each other that we loved each other and all the preparations were done for the morning so there really was nothing else to do other than to lie down and go to sleep. But I was just waiting so that I could watch the heavens for a bit. I wanted to see the stars twinkle in the night sky and see if I could see a shooting star.

I was warm, dry, comfortable, and wrapped in a blanket.

And then I woke up.

Doesn't sound very nightmarish, does it? And it isn't, in theory. But when I woke up, it was the middle of the night, maybe a couple of hours after midnight and I was sweating, shaking and I felt sick. All the signs of a good nightmare. I got up and moved around a bit. Doing all the things that long habit has taught me about how to reset my brain after a nightmare. I relieved myself, took a drink of heavily diluted watered wine that is kept in my room for precisely that purpose. I cleaned the sweat from my body and changed the blanket for a fresh one so that I could feel dry and comfortable rather than having to lie back down in clammy sheets.

But then I couldn't sleep.

In the end, I dressed and went to work with Yennefer for a bit before getting Kerrass to run some spear drill with me in the morning.

I spent a lot of time that day, thinking about that nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare in the traditional sense. I certainly hadn't felt anything close to the amount of fear, revulsion, or horror that normally accompanies such a thing. But the nightmare worked its way into my brain and I couldn't shake free of it.

There have been hundreds of nights, just like that one over the years since I have started traveling with Kerrass. Literally hundreds of them. Nights where I have whiled away the time, talking with Ariadne, making notes, sketching something that had caught my eye over the course of the day before eventually falling asleep. Literally hundreds of days like it. It wasn't a memory that I could identify, I couldn't remember that particular clearing although I supposed that it was perfectly possible that it was just one of the many, or it was a combination of many of the clearings that we might have stayed in.

I do not know what it was, nor did I know what it meant.

Ariadne is very interested in my dreams, especially my nightmares, and when I told her about this particular one, she was audibly fascinated by the sequence. She didn't even have to use her regular catchphrase of 'fascinating' in order to let me know that.

"It is entirely possible." She told me after some moment's thought We were trying another day of the two of us being separate from each other. We were getting better at it but we were still desperate to talk to each other on a regular basis.

"It is entirely possible that you are beginning to feel nostalgic about your journeys." She told me. "For you, the beginning of your time with Kerrass is beginning to take on a rosy glow of memory. You are beginning to forget the bad times and only remember the good times."

"I don't know," I replied, taking a sip from the cup of mulled wine that I had brought with me. My habit, when using our link to talk to each other, is to wander out into the gardens of wherever I am at the time in order to get some privacy for the conversation. Close friends don't care, but servants and other people don't understand what's going on when they see this weird northern lord talking to himself. In this case, I had gone out to Yennefer's garden gazebo and was sitting in the shelter, cupping my hands around a warm cup of spiced wine that Corvo Bianco's cook makes for cold nights.

"I don't know," I told her. "I remember a lot of horror at the time. I remember cold nights, an unfriendly Kerrass, muscles aching from hard training, disliking the food, and constantly having my views challenged by the common everyday things that I found on the road."

"You had fewer cares." She replied. She was doing her estate accounts. I had the sense of an abacus and a lot of notepapers. She used to have an estate manager, but the man had thought he could cheat her on the grounds that she was a woman and wouldn't understand the maths. "When you started your journey with Kerrass, you were just a student in search of a subject of study. You were not yet famous and you didn't have to deal with public life. Your friends loved you for who you were, you didn't have to constantly worry about who was being friends with you in order to get to your sister or one of the other important people that you are now acquainted with. Your father was still in your life and none of the tragedies that have since befallen you and yours had taken place. The amount of horror that you had witnessed was still relatively low. Your correspondence was small. You were just a student, with a simple target that needed to be achieved.

"And I may point out, you didn't have a terrifying vampire engagement to fulfill, a wedding in your future and you weren't going to be a Count and one of the more important lords in your area."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." I teased. "You are not a bad thing that has happened to me. You are one of the best things that have ever been put into my life."

I could feel her blush. Yes, as I've said before, vampires blush.

But she had an answer.

"Even good things, especially things like, dare I say it, love and marriage, can be stressful. It was a simpler time for you. Do not be too concerned."

I took the problem to Kerrass and he laughed at me. Even Geralt cracked a smile. Lady Yennefer was nose deep in a book and I honestly think that Geralt and Kerrass could have been having a sword fight around her and she wouldn't have noticed.

That's not true, she would have noticed and glared at the pair of them until they apologized and took their duelling practice elsewhere.

The two Witchers were maintaining their gear. Lord Geralt's work was reminiscent of a basic movement of maintenance whereas Kerrass had the determined look of someone who was going to be depending on his equipment for their survival very soon. He was making sure that he had the good oils and the clean scouring pads, carefully folded. He was replacing a buckle on his sword harness when I found him.

"Remember all the bad stuff Freddie," Kerrass told me. "Remember all the small injuries. Remember the cuts and bruises that you suffered at my hand. Remember the thin gruel that we had to eat occasionally. Remember the nights where we couldn't find a dry patch of ground to sleep in, where the only hope was to wrap ourselves in one of the blankets and hope that the water and the mud didn't soak through and give you a chill. Remember the times when we were chased down the road by Lord's guards when I demanded proper payment for my work. Think about the saddle sores and the explosive bowels that we both had after eating some food that wasn't entirely healthy for us. Remember the fear, and the anger and the mind chilling terror."

"I know," I said. "And there's more. I can remember the stench of marshes, even when we were some distance away. I can remember the suspicion on villagers' faces and the scorn that they had when they saw me and realized what I was. I remember all the times that we were cheated and there was nothing that we could do about it. I also remember having to go weeks without bathing properly until we both reached the point where our stench became a physical thing that could punch us in the face, and if we did try and clean ourselves up in a river or something which, you kept pointing out, was really stupid anyway, we had to peel our clothing off ourselves."

I took a breath.

"And I remember those times when I was forced to kill and I remember the feeling of my humanity slipping away. I remember all of those things Kerrass, but there were good things as well."

He stared at me for a long time before sniffing.

"I don't know what you're talking about Freddie. I always smell delightful."

I had the nightmare again that night.

Kerrass spent the following day, his last full day with us before departing, saying goodbye. It was not as poignant as it might sound. We worked hard on my training and he gave me some drills to perform that he wanted me to practice every day on the grounds that he rather thought I was slipping.

I wasn't, I was having a bad day after having had two bad nights' sleep in a row.

Then we went and had lunch with the Knights of Saint Francesca. It was a rowdy affair with lots of throwing of food, oaths of everlasting friendship, including from people that I was pretty sure I had never met before and boasting. It was a bittersweet good time. Especially as they have a tradition of toasting to Francesca at the beginning of every meal and when they depart for "duty" there is a statue of her that they touch with reverence before they depart.

We stayed until mid-afternoon when we were finally able to extricate ourselves from all the well-wishing and gratitude before we rode to the palace where Kerrass was formally thanked, by the Duchess, again, for all of his services. He was given the gift of a grand tournament shield with his new coat of arms. Partially from the small estate that he had been given as his reward for the Jack affair, but there had been some adjustments made. Lounging at the food of the actual design itself was a large black Panther. Kerrass liked it but told the court that he could not possibly carry it on the path with him. He was told that it would be mounted above the hearth in the cottage, for when he returned.

Kerrass looked suitably moved, but I honestly couldn't tell you if he had any intention of ever going back to that place.

His last stop was a less formal meal at Corvo Bianco. Obviously, Geralt and Yennefer were there but Guillaume and Lady Vivienne turned up with a bottle of wine. As did Palmerin with Natanis on his arm looking as beautiful as only a Succubus at the height of her power can. Syanna and Damien also came, arm in arm and the party soon became rowdy. I even think that Kerrass was particularly moved that so many people had come out to bid him farewell.

I say it was a good night, but I felt sick through most of it and my appetite was utterly lacking and I drank very little.

I didn't have the nightmare that night, by virtue of the fact that I didn't sleep. I was not alone though, Damien and Syanna left early to see to "things", leaving me wondering if Syanna's desire for a proper courtship had already fallen by the wayside. Palmerin left to escort Lady Vivienne back to the palace, Natanis made it clear that she wanted to thank and say farewell to Kerrass properly which the older knight didn't want to see or be remotely near.

He would say that he knows that his jealousy is pointless, but that he cannot help it when it flares up.

Lady Vivienne had to rise early for an important meeting. Guillaume had no such commitments and we stayed up for quite a long time chatting.

Apparently, Gregoire was taking to the life of a virtuous Knight well. There were some people that refused to believe that he had been redeemed and there were rumors of his recruitment being a sign that the Knights of Francesca were corrupt. But he was having a grand old time escorting the ducal customs inspectors out to the ships in the harbor. Guillaume told us all a story about how one, famously belligerent sea captain, wanted to refuse certain aspects of the inspector's craft. Gregoire had stood near to the man, eyes glaring, grimacing, and growling under his breath until the man lost his train of thought.

Anne was out at the Gorgon estates, settling in and putting her stamp on things. She no longer enjoyed Beauclair society, there were too many memories there, too many people to remind her of what she had been in the past and she wanted to wait until such a time as she could move past that before she did much socialising.

So in theory, it was a really pleasant evening that I enjoyed very much.

But I felt sick, physically nauseous, tired, and with a growing headache.

Kerrass left the following morning. Later than he had intended, due to nursing a hangover, the slight limp of the thoroughly shagged and far more disheveled than he wanted to be. As a result, he wasn't going to make the pass during the day but resolved to stay at the inn near the Southern border. I offered to travel with him, stay the night in that inn before returning to Corvo Bianco the following day. He looked at me strangely before insisting that I remain behind.

I stood there and watched for a long time as he rode away.

Things went downhill for me from there.

There were many problems with what was happening. I missed my friends, Kerrass, Ariadne and so on. Staying at Corvo Bianco was fine but Lord Geralt and I have very little in common and Yennefer was working. Geralt did his best to make me feel comfortable. He gave me some lessons on how to use my new Knightly sword and I don't think that Kerrass would be offended if I said that Lord Geralt was a far better teacher than Kerrass was.

Both Witchers would argue that learning a second weapon was easier than learning the first, but that is just flattery really. Geralt agreed with Kerrass' assessment that the sword was not quite the right option for me in the long run and added his argument to the list of people that suggested that I learn how to use Father Gardan's axe. But that was up in Coulthard castle. So we trained and he helped me out with my dagger work a bit. But beyond that, we have very little in common.

Yes, it is true, that Kerrass and I have very little in common, except all of the shared experience. That makes a difference far more than you would expect.

Yennefer and I are closer, but all she wanted to do was to work. Geralt claimed that she goes through phases like this. She will lounge around for days, weeks, months at a time before something will occur to her, and then she will work solidly from the moment she wakes to the moment she goes to sleep at night. He had a couple of good anecdotes about having to carry her to bed after peeling the working papers off her face or finding her in bed with a book deliberately laid out ready for her the following morning.

And the level of work that she was doing was over my head. My bit of the book on the Elder was all but done. It was little more than an expanded and edited version of the chapters that you will have already read, removing the things about Ariadne and expanding on the behaviors of the other Vampires. And then moving into an annotated transcription of our full interview. It was fascinating stuff, but it was one of those times where the best thing to do was to get out of the way and let the subject speak for themselves.

So I was done. The next job in that regard would be after Yennefer is finished and we start putting the book together in earnest. But even that was going to be months away and Yennefer wanted the first crack at that anyway.

My other friends in Toussaint were busy with their own duties. The Knights of Francesca were increasing their influence, the business of court carried on apace.

I could eat the finest foods, drink the finest wines, attend parties and plays put on by the finest performers on the continent. I even did many of these things, but there was always an underlying feeling that I wanted to share these things with the people that I loved.

Looking back at what was going on, it is easy to see the truth with the benefits of hindsight. The dreams, the boredom, and the longing for something. It's easy to look back and correctly identify what was happening. But at the time, it was a mystery.

I was longing for something. I felt as though there was something missing in my life and I didn't know what that was.

The dreams increased in their vividness. It expanded to the point where I would now dream of making camp, cooking the food, doing a bit of training before Kerrass would head off and I would lay down to get some sleep. It often came in small pictures of disjointed processes. Sometimes I would move forward in the story of that little campsite and sometimes I would move backward. The dream Kerrass and I would speak about some topic although I could never remember what we had talked about afterward. The same with the conversations that I had with Ariadne. I knew that I had them, but I couldn't remember what they were for the life of me.

Then I would wake up. Do some exercises before breakfast. If Geralt was about, we would have some breakfast together before we would do some training for the morning. Then he would depart on business. Often to do with Corvo Bianco or any of his growing business ventures. Occasionally there were things to do with him being the Lord of the Land and occasionally he would be called in to "consult" on a monster infestation.

It turned out that "consult" meant that he was asked to deal with it on the grounds that he was a Witcher and no one else was entirely qualified to walk into a larger Kikkimore nest.

So the afternoon was my own. I would wander up to Beauclair, walk around the same old shops, walk through the same art galleries and the same museums. I even plucked up my courage and went through the display about Francesca once. I finally saw the funny side of things and imagined walking through the paintings and the sculptures of the holy figure that my sister was becoming with her shade next to me. I was finally able to see the ridiculousness of it all and had many a conversation with the imagined shade of Francesca.

It was… healing.

Then, when I ran out of things to look at or things to do, I would return to Crovo Bianco where I would borrow something from Yennefer's library and read that. This would often result in my trying to read something technical and magical that went straight over my head and was all but impossible for me to understand. Or I would read one of Geralt's books on Monster Lore.

He has quite a collection. Many of them are annotated in his own hand with comments like "WRONG" and "THIS WILL GET YOU KILLED." On one of her brief breaks from work, Yennefer found me chuckling at one of the notes that questioned whether or not the man who had written the book would be able to find his own dick in order to pleasure himself.

"He collects them." She told me. "He pretends to get all outraged, but I think he enjoys it. He claims that he is keeping them from getting out into the wild and spreading their poison into the ears of the naive."

Then she asked me to look over the latest chapters and our old argument of information versus ease of reading will begin again.

After a couple of days, this self-perceived laziness started to get to me and I started to find chores to do. The servants looked at me strangely but largely ignored me. Geralt and BB's only comment was that I was a guest and that I didn't need to contribute.

The cook just handed me a paring knife and a pile of carrots. I think she understood what was happening to me more than anyone else.

When I ran out of chores to do around the Vinyard, I started maintaining my own equipment. Expanding my own weapons training and working on my armor. I didn't need to. If everything went to plan, I wouldn't need to do any of these things for quite a while.

And that was how life went. As I said near the beginning of this article, I lasted about a week before something happened in my head and I snapped.

I was wandering around the lower parts of Beauclair. The city has no fears for me now. It is far better patrolled than Novigrad, most of the knights and the guards know me by sight and I was in no danger of being anonymous. I wasn't going down any dark alleys either.

I was just walking along the dock front. I had a skin of wine in my hand that I had bought from one of the dockside taverns and had ordered it heavily watered down. I still had my spear over my shoulder and my dagger in my belt, because I'm not completely stupid.

There was a horse merchant there. It was not a fancy horse merchant. The proper knightly, war or hunting horses do not get bought from a stable, they turn up to your estate or to your posting with the horse trader. You tell them what you are interested in, in advance, and they bring several examples from which you choose.

This was a stable for workhorses and riding horses.

What happens is that the wagon trains come in by ship and that often means that the horses come with them. Also with passengers when passengers want to ship their own personal horses along with them. It happens in Toussaint regularly when knights come to tournaments.

The problem with that is that horses, sometimes, don't do well at sea. Normally due to a lack of expertise in the caring of the horses. Diet, and stimulation, and so on. But also weather and things can make a horse sick or cause them to be lost overboard rather than them panicking and causing more damage than anything that the storm can do.

So when these Merchants make port, they need to get replacement horses. Either to pull the wagons or to ride themselves. There was a cooper and a wagon maker nearby as well that performed similar services.

For the interested, the horse trader didn't have any of the warhorses or hunting horses. Those steeds are specially trained and any Knight will either look after his horse properly or will have brought minions with him to do the tasks for him. If a Knight lost a horse at sea, which does happen, then he would just turn around and go home on the grounds that any lent steed or new horse would not be properly trained to the correct signals. Hunting steeds can be loaned.

But that afternoon, I was wandering backward and forwards next to the dock and I had stopped to look at one particular horse.

Kerrass has told me off about my talking down about my own expertise with horses. It's one of those things. My father insisted that all his children learn how to ride, ride well, and know how to look after horses. It was a passion of his and the Coulthard stable was, and still is, famous for its quality. I grew up thinking that I knew relatively little about horses because of the condescending nature of the expertise of the castle stablemasters, my tutor, and my father's passion. The truth was that I don't love horses. I can see why they're useful and I have grown attached to the various horses that I have ridden over the years. But they are still a tool first in my deepest heart of hearts.

But all of my tutoring paid off and I know a good horse when I see one. I also know what I'm paying for.

Like when I proposed to Ariadne, I have no conscious memory of deciding that I was going to do what I did. I didn't set out to go down to the market to buy a horse. I didn't need a horse. I don't remember waking up that morning with the idea in my head. But as I was walking around the docks, I was walking past this stable and I saw this horse that was being exercised in the small yard attached to the stable.

I leaned against the fence and watched for a moment.

In the way of horse traders everywhere, the merchant saw me and approached.

"You know your horses, sir." He said with a carefully professional smile. "Good stock that one. As fine a riding horse as has ever come through my stable."

I watched her walk for a while before nodding and enquiring as to the price. And then we were haggling. Everyone knows how this game is played so I won't go blow by blow. I did all the usual things, checked her feet, teeth, and her breathing. I had a short ride with her around the yard to see if we could be friends. I haggled the man down, chose a saddle, some riding gear, and instructed the merchant to have the horse reshod before I picked her up in the morning. I gave the man my note, which he could have cashed in at the bank, and I walked away with a strange lightness in my heart. I did some other shopping before returning to Corvo Biance with a smile on my face.

Geralt was away, Yennefer was working and no one really noticed as I packed.

I continue to swear that I had still not made any decisions.

The following morning, I wore my traveling clothes and armor, packed the rest, and arranged to have them taken north to Coulthard castle with the next shipment. Then, all there was left to do was to collect my horse and ride out of Beauclair, stopping at the bank to withdraw some cash for the journey. Money lending notes are fine, but sooner or later, Innkeepers and food vendors start to want to see the color of your money.

The horse was happy to be out of the stable and snorted as I let her have a little trot to stretch for a bit before I set off South.

I traveled through Toussaint in the middle of their planting season. I rode easily, taking my time, still not really knowing what I was doing. I bought a slice of bread slathered in butter, a leg of chicken, and an apple at one of the vineyards that I rode past and simple food had never tasted sweeter. I would be prepared to swear that it tasted better than some of the feasts that I had had at the palace.

I made it to the inn that is at the foot of the pass that leads South before I realized what I was doing and suddenly I was drenched in cold sweat.

I saw to my horse, paid for my room, took a bath to clean the sweat off me, and had something to eat before retreating to my room to wait for the inevitable.

I sat next to the window, looking out into the night sky, listening for the sounds of the horses that I was convinced would be sent after me when I felt the gentle tickling on the edge of my mind that lets me know when Ariadne wants to talk to me.

"Are you running away from me?" She asked in a quiet voice. There was a terror in that voice and I felt awful.

"What?" I exclaimed. Normally, I hate the word 'exclaimed' but here it was rather fitting. "No. Of course not. It was just…. Why would you think that?"

"Oh." She said in a small mental voice. "I just… You disappeared without warning and I thought… Since we had…" The mental equivalent of a deep breath seemed to drift over. "I thought that you had run away from me. You vanished, you didn't tell anyone where you were going and Yennefer called me, and when I didn't know?.."

There was another long pause.

"Yennefer said something," Ariadne went on. "She probably meant it to be off-hand and something but it really got to me, it really scared me. She said "I thought that the pair of you talked about this kind of thing. I know that she didn't mean to say that there was anything wrong with our relationship. I know it was just an assumption that we would have talked about whatever it was that you were doing. But it hit home a bit closer than I thought it would."

I took a deep breath. The sinister, uncomfortable part of me wanted to say that of course, I didn't want to leave her in a kind of angry, condescending way. I loved her, how could she think that. But I was also aware that this wouldn't achieve anything. And further to that, it suddenly occurred that if I was allowed to react irrationally, then so was she. After that, it occurred that any admonishment I delivered was based on what I knew inside my own head. Ariadne didn't have that luxury.

I took another deep breath.

"I am sorry," I told her. "I didn't mean to hurt you. That wasn't what I was doing, I love you, I haven't stopped."

"So you're not running away from me?"

"No. I told her.

"Right." Then she asked me one of those questions that shows just how insightful she could be. And also how well she knew me. "So who are you running away from Freddie?"

I had no answer to that and the shock of the question kind of drove the words out of my mind.

"Because if it is your sudden fame," Ariadne went on. "Or if the pending hugeness of the wedding, or the pressure of working with Yennefer, or any of all of that was getting on top of you, then we can go elsewhere. I don't care Freddie. We can go to the moon if you like."

That caught me up short.

"The Moon?" I asked.

"Well, not literally the moon, there is nothing for you to breathe there and you might… It was a figure of speech Freddie."

The small question was hiding the fact that I didn't know what was going on with me. "I don't know Ariadne. None of that sounds right… I mean, Yennefer is not the easiest person to be around. I don't know how Geralt stands it long-term…"

"He goes off on his hunts," Ariadne told me. "And the two of them are not jealous now that an actual commitment has been made. You haven't seen it yet, but Geralt occasionally likes a soft, gentle love and Yennefer is obviously not that. And Yennefer's taste for dominance occasionally goes beyond what Geralt is comfortable with. And they go and find these things on the condition that they go back to each other afterward."

"How do you know that?" I was appalled, the thought of such a system was shocking to me. I thought about it later when my shock began to dissipate and it seemed more pragmatic than I was entirely comfortable with.

"Yennefer told me. I was asking about marital relationships and how it works, especially for long-term relationship systems and I was curious how it worked with the pair of them, especially with Geralt's famous promiscuity. She promptly told me that it wasn't all one-sided and that they both occasionally had needs that the other couldn't provide."

I considered some of the interactions that I had seen between the pair of them in a whole new light.

Then I shook myself.

"I mean, as I say, Yennefer isn't the easiest to be around, but she's not that bad and she always apologizes after she's snapped at me for getting into her eye line accidentally. The marriage… I don't know… I mean, I want to marry you. I really do and I genuinely can't wait. But I also can't wait for it to be over. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

"I mean, I can't wait to see everyone there. The Wave-Serpent crew. I want to see Rickard meeting Helfdan, that will be a meeting of minds. Seeing Father Jerome again, I need to thank that man for everything he did for me. I want to sit and drink in the courtyard. I want to see Ciri and I want to … I don't know. But I have the growing feeling that we are incidental to the whole thing. That we aren't really needed and that if the two of us snuck off somewhere, then the entire thing would carry on without us."

"Probably true." Ariadne admitted "And the thought of eloping is a pleasant one. But we can't do that…"

"That's not what I mean. I feel like a soldier in a grand campaign. I've read all the books by Coehoorn, Natalis, and the rest and they all say that the most important post in the army is the logistics officer. The person that makes sure that the arrows and the food and the clean water all turn up in the places and at the times that they are meant to. That without that person, then the entire thing falls apart.

"I feel like the Logistics officer in all of this. That we are the logistics officers, that if we just walked away, it would all be for nothing. But that this wedding is happening anyway and that we are being dragged along for the ride. I am looking forward to marrying you. I am. I'm looking forward to the moment when I can change my thinking about you and stop thinking of you as a fiancee and start thinking of you as my wife. I am looking forward to not having to guard myself too closely when I am with you in public. So I don't need to worry about showing my love and affection and… desire for you to others. Where we have to carefully ensure that our clothes are not rumpled after any time that we spend in private in case we accidentally give people the wrong idea.

"But I am looking forward to that more than I am looking forward to the wedding itself. I am looking forward to a quiet evening in Skellige, just the two of us while you pretend to like my watery fish soup and we can work out how we fit together in a bed. That strikes me as a wonderful process that I am really looking forward to.

"I am looking forward to that too," Ariadne admitted.

"I am looking forward to our wedding in a sense that I am looking forward to it being over. I want it to be done. But I am not afraid of it. I would rather run towards it so that it can be done and over with as soon as possible."

"So are you running from something?" Ariadne asked. "Or are you running to something?"

"I don't know," I said and I could feel some hysteria climbing up my throat. "I know that that isn't useful. I know that it isn't satisfactory but I don't know that either. I don't know and I'm sorry that I keep saying that."

"It's alright." She said, her voice more confident now. More confident and soothing. "It's still an answer. People only yell at you for saying 'I don't know' when they think that you do know the answer."

I considered that for a moment. "My experience is different than that," I said. "My experience suggests that people get angry at that response when they think that a person should know the answer despite all possibilities to the contrary. Even if it was impossible for the other person to know the answer, people will still yell."

It was Ariadne's turn to take a moment to consider. "You have had some very bad tutors over the years." She told me.

"I don't think I would argue with that," I admitted.

I took yet another deep breath. This entire conversation seemed to be a series of deep breaths.

"I don't know Ariadne. I swear I didn't decide to do this. I promise I didn't. I certainly didn't mean to hurt either you or anyone else in doing this. All I know is that I was standing in front of the horse trader and suddenly I bought a horse and was on the road. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't want to do it, although to say that suggests that I hate this. I didn't not want to do it either. It was all… as though I was doing things without thinking. Like when Kerrass describes the basic force of fighting. When you practice the movements over and over and over again until they become second nature to you. It was like that. It was as though the movements, buying the horse, arranging supplies, and the rest. It was like they were the basic moments of simply surviving. The same way that I would eat in the morning or take a shit."

"So do you know where you are going?" She wondered.

"I don't…" This time the response was an automatic one. And I realized that it was a lie. I did know where I was going but I couldn't have told you that before that precise moment.

"I'm going after Kerrass."

I could feel the emotions that Ariadne felt at that moment. I felt her disappointment, a touch of anger, a certain embarrassment, and then acceptance.

"I should never have left you alone." She said. "I should have seen this coming."

"You can't…" I tried.

"No, I could. It seems to be the most obvious thing in the world now that you say it aloud. I should have known that Kerrass' departure would trigger something in you. How long ago did he depart?"

"A week, I think."

"Then I think you have done well to last a week. I should have been there with you and I should have told you to wait for me."

"What would you have done."

"I would have been there Freddie. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I should have arranged for you to stay with Yennefer, I could have warned her that this might happen. I could have taken you with me when I left or insisted that Emma take you home. Or I could have taken you to Coulthard castle when I left."

"Yennefer and I were working on…"

"And she can teleport." Ariadne retorted. "It would have made her life inconvenient, but then she would have gotten over it. But we should have seen this coming. We should have. Alright, I'm going to ask you a question right now and I want the first answer that comes into your mind. The first thing that occurs to you. No right or wrong answer."

"Right?"

"Are you ready?"

"I think so, I mean…"

"If I came and got you now in order to take you home, would you…"

"No," I responded. It was a sudden and visceral response. "No, I need to…"

"It's ok Freddie. It's ok. Right… I have another question to ask. And I want you to think long and hard about this one alright?"

"Alright?" I felt myself frowning in concern.

"Seriously Freddie, I need an honest answer."

"I get it, what…"

"Is this about Francesca? I know what the kind of thing Kerrass is looking for. I know that it was on your list of people to talk about that might be able to tell you some more things about what happened to Francesca in the past. Is this about her? Hunting down answers to a puzzle that's already been solved."

I took a deep breath. "No," I said. "Or being a bit more honest, I don't think so."

"Right."

"I want to sleep under the stars, Ariadne. I want to travel through villages and argue with innkeepers about the prices of rooms. I want to…"

"You want a last hurrah," Ariadne said before taking what felt like a final, decisive breath.

"Then I have a deal for you my love, are you ready?"

"I am."

"You can go and have some fun with your friends. I will take the heat with Emma and whoever else is going to be disapproving of this and you will go. But when this adventure is over, you are coming back north. One last adventure."

"I agree," I said promptly.

"I'm not done. If it gets too rough, or it gets too risky, then I will come and get you. Kerrass has a week's headstart. If you can't find him, I expect you to get back to me and I will come and get you."

"Right?"

"And finally, if it turns out that this is about Francesca after all. If there's even remotely a hint that that might be the case. You are to tell me and I will come and get you. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Do you agree?"

"I do."

"Good. Then have fun with your friend and make sure you come back alive. Or I will ensure that you regret it."

"Just out of curiosity." I began "What would have happened if I had admitted that this was about Francesca?"

She thought about this for a long time before giving me my answer.

"Then even if it meant the death of your love for me, I would have spelled you to sleep and taken you home."

"Fair enough," I said.

We spoke for a while after that, talking about small things and each other's day. She asked about the horse that seemed to have triggered this whole thing and I asked about the small business of what was going on in Angral. It was all very... not romantic... normal was the easiest thing to admit.

When she was gone, I allowed myself a hot meal on the grounds that it was the last that I would have for some time. Even in the height of summer, the mountain passes into and out of Toussaint are famously cold, and then I slept better than I had done in quite a while. Something about the harder, lumpier beds of the inn being better than the soft, gentle sheets of either the palace of Beauclair or Corvo Bianco.

The food tasted better too. I went for dinner late in the evening so all that was left was the kind of watery, traveler's stew that was served to late-coming travelers.

It was strangely delicious.

The following morning, I woke early to take advantage of joining one of the formal guides through the pass. It's one of those rocky things where it is easy to get lost. The likelihood of that was not great, but at the same time, why risk it. There was a wagon train leaving Toussaint and I paid my fee to take advantage of it. The journey over the mountains would take a couple of days and I thought I would be glad for the company.

It was alright. I was invited to join the head of the column so I wasn't riding through the mush that the other wagons would make of the road. On the downside, Merchants only really have one topic of conversation and that is trade. And because I was a Coulthard, it was assumed that I would know all about trade and therefore be interested in it. I was soon introduced to everyone as "Freddie Coulthard, yes of that Coulthard family."

It was an uneventful trip although there was an incident towards the end of the journey when a wagon master who had fallen afoul of Emma's machinations at some point in the past, tried to take his vengeance out of my hide. I doubt that Emma ever knew the man's name but he came with a couple of his wagon teams on the first night after the wagon train and I had parted ways. They were heading for a coastal city and the markets there while I was heading into the deep South.

That night, I had set my camp and these three men walked into the firelight. I had partially been expecting them and my spear was assembled nearby. They had clubs and knives and I wasn't concerned. I stood to greet them, let them air their grievances for a while while I leaned on my spear, and then they went away again. I waited a bit before following them to make sure that they were really gone and listened to them complain about "I thought you were going to attack him, and then the merchant complaining that his henchmen hadn't done their jobs while the henchmen complained that he wasn't paying them enough to die on the end of a spear. It looked to be getting ready to devolve from there so I made my escape and moved my camp into somewhere a little more concealed.

And that was how the journey went. After the slow start, I stepped up the pace. Kerrass had a week on me and I needed to catch up. The other problem was that I knew roughly where he was heading but not the precise location, so I needed to be careful not to miss him. It was Spring and I was traveling South so it was perfectly pleasant to camp outdoors. I was only forced to find an inn on a couple of occasions. Particularly when I was riding through an especially bad storm and as a result, the chances of finding a safe, dry campsite were slim.

Kerrass was not that hard to track as Witchers are rare enough to elicit comment. I found a village where he had refused the payment of the village virgin instead of the coin that he had been promised. I met the girl and I would have refused too.

She was not bad-looking as these things go, but the reason for that was that she was thirteen and even in the most backward of places, she would only just have started to come into marriageable age. In that part of the world, they are rich enough to wait until a girl is in her later teenage years.

Kerrass had thrashed the girl's father which had left her in tears and had taken his payment in some goods which he sold in a nearby village. This kind of interaction is not unusual for a Witcher on the road.

I found other signs of him hunting on the road. He had been hired by a small, local merchant concern to destroy a Wyvern that had decided that a particular trade route was on its hunting territory. I found a cave system that had needed to be cleared after the inhabitants of that cave, a pair of trolls, had refused to be moved to make way for a mining expedition. That had not ended well.

I traveled through a city and found the palace where Kerrass had stayed, where he had eaten and otherwise enjoyed himself. I did not partake of the carnal parts of the excursion, but I did enjoy the food and the company while leaving a considerable tip.

I did have to kill a couple of people when they thought that a lone traveler was easy pickings. The problem was that to get news of Kerrass I had to spend money on bribes and things. Which meant that people thought, not unfairly, that I was rich and that I would be worth mugging or ransom. But Kerrass' training proved true and although I was not the best I had ever been. I was more than enough for common city footpads and a set of bandits on the road.

Kerrass' choice of my weapon worked well. Men with knives look concerned when you can keep them at bay with a spear and I had no qualms about using that extra range. Both times, I killed a couple and seriously injured a couple more and the rest fled in search of an easier mark.

And then I moved on. Just as the town guards will use a traveling vagabond like a Witcher in order to "solve" whatever crimes that they can't be bothered to investigate properly, they will also arrest a traveling nobleman's son. This is because they, like the bandits, figure that he will be good for some bribes in order to get out or to get a ransom paid in order to have them avoid the noose. I was unable to avoid paying a bribe of twenty marks before I collected my gear and camped just outside of town.

And on the journey went.

I was enjoying myself immensely.

As I say, I was traveling hard, but not too quickly for fear of missing him. Kerrass would be delayed by his insistence on paying his own way. He would want to stop and hunt things that would delay him and that started to be proven right when I started to get news about him that was more direct. People would start to say that the Witcher was only a couple of days ahead of me which meant that I was right on his tail.

In theory that was a good thing but it also meant that I was following his trail directly. Whereas before, I could make some educated guesses as to which way he was heading or going before taking a shortcut, now I needed to stick to his trail in order to not overshoot him and lose him altogether.

The landscape was becoming more and more dominated by trees now. Towns and cities either were, or had grown out of, logging concerns and the timber that had been sent.

The only time that Kerrass sped up his march considerably was when we moved past the road you take to go to Dorne and the land of Sleeping Beauty. The heart of the Black Forest which is where we were going, is somewhat North of Dorne itself but at the same time, it was clear that Kerrass didn't even want to be tempted to carry on that way.

And so we went and the signs of Kerrass' passage became clearer and easier to follow. I came to a village that was in the process of weeping as they laid a couple of young men to rest. Kerrass had hunted a wraith there, had found out that the woman who had become the wraith had been betrayed, raped, and murdered by one of the men's fathers.

Kerrass had told the relevant authorities of this and the young man and his best friend had accosted the Witcher, demanding an apology. When Kerrass had informed them that that was the truth, it was what he had found, and to pretend otherwise would be to endanger the village further. The father was long dead and couldn't defend himself so the son and his friends attacked Kerrass with predictable results. Kerrass had still demanded payment and although he had got it, the village was still in the process of cursing his name.

They assumed that I was some kind of Bounty Hunter, coming after the Witcher. They gave me food and lodging and told me all about how evil he was. I filed away the stories to produce in order to amuse Kerrass later.

He went through another nearby village and destroyed an Endrega infestation before he took a detour to a nearby town which surprised me. Kerrass normally operated on a recognizable rhythm and he wasn't due to go into a town for a couple of days' debauchery for a bit yet. But I followed him anyway. The detour proved to me that I was making the right decision in following him closely. I had been tempted to take a couple of shortcuts a couple of times but that would have meant that I would have missed this.

Sure enough, in the town, he stopped and stayed at an inn for a little while, where he was seen talking to a series of shady individuals before moving on.

He went to another smaller village where he cleared a set of old, Elven ruins of Gargoyles, ruins that I was sorely tempted to stay and explore, but I didn't have time and I followed after. Then he went back to the town and left going south. I would have assumed that he would spend the day in the town but it seemed that he just passed through before heading South.

I was a day behind him, maybe half a week after this when the same thing happened again. He was in the town, spent a day there meeting with people before he headed off, performed a tricky hunt, collected his pay, and then came back to town to travel off again.

In total, It was maybe just shy of a month after I left Toussaint that I finally caught up with Kerrass. And although we would laugh about it later, that meeting did not go well. The problem was that I did not even think about what Kerrass might have been doing in those towns. I was so fixated on catching up with him that things nearly ended in disaster then and there.

It was a country lane like any other. Built on a slight embankment and the road was a little twisty and turny due, I guessed, to providing borders between the lands or different fields. The countryside was pleasantly rolling and the various communities had hacked their lives out of the local woodland. It had, by my estimate, been a long time since there had been anything like a large-scale war in this part of the world and as a result, the people were fairly settled in their lives. The roads were well maintained and although the patrols were not common, they did happen. I had been stopped a couple of times in order for officers and knights to inspect my paperwork, despite the fact that one of them blatantly couldn't read it and had to get an educated soldier to read it for him.

The locals were all armed and I was riding along, generally having a good time in looking around myself and engaging in my sense of curiosity when out of nowhere there was a twanging sound and an arrow slammed into my horse's flank.

The horse reared and another arrow struck followed by another. The horse was staggering now and it was going to fall. I have fallen off enough horses in my time that instinct took over. I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and leaped free, making sure that my spear was in my hand. I landed hard and rolled, nearly off the embankment and into the ditch next to the road.

Someone was shouting something but I was too busy seeing what had happened as well as having the wind knocked out of me by the fall.

Two archers had reared up next to the road. A man and a woman by the look of them. He was older than her by a considerable margin with a long beard and scraggly unkempt hair which was kept under a fur-lined hat. As I came to my feet he was putting his bow aside and picking up a large woodcutter's axe from next to him as she fitted another arrow to her bow. I had enough time to see long brownish hair and a scowl.

I ducked behind my horse that was still thrashing about. Somewhere in my mind was the thought that my horse was dying.

"Stand Villain, stand and face me."

Yes, people really do talk like that.

From the other direction on the road, from ahead of me, came a man carrying a large sword, similar in length to Kerrass' blade, and looking at him, I could see that he knew how to use it. He wore black armor that protected all the important bits as well as a suit of chainmail. His helmet had a plain nose guard as he jogged to intercept me. Next to him but running in a way that suggested that he planned to flank me was another man, grim-faced and scarred who carried a long sword and a buckler.

I had time to glance into the fields but it was clear that there was no cover from archers and they would shoot me down if I tried to run.

It was a strange group of bandits to be sure. Not many bandit groups have women in them that young and what little I had seen of her would suggest that she was not bad looking. And certainly, a man who called another "villain" was not usual in such a band.

I waited, hunkered down behind the cover of my dying horse until I had no choice but to leap into the attack. I needed to get past the armored man and buckler so that I could use them to protect me from the arrows so I feinted one way, darted the next, and leaped the other, trying to get round and past them.

They were wise to me though and the first thought that this might be where it all ended started to cross my mind.

I wasn't dead yet though and I did my best to remember Kerrass' lessons. The danger was the buckler really, the other weapons could be parried and the armored man could be outrun. Then it would be a case of finding some cover to avoid the archers and to just get away while the bandits cut their losses with the contents of my saddlebags.

I leaped towards Buckler, trying to make him put his back to the edge of the embankment and the road so that I could push him off or cause him to lose his footing. He saw the ruse though and backed off, backing enough so that armor could join the fray.

I had room for a glance backward and I could see that axeman was advancing a bit more cautiously, covering the archer woman who had an arrow nocked and ready. If I attacked back that way then I would quickly get an arrow to the face and there was another man climbing up the side of the embankment with a sword in his hand.

Fine then.

I attacked Armor. He was good. I have fought better but normally that would fall under the umbrella of people that have fought in wars and whose only job was to train and practice and keep themselves in top shape. He was certainly much better than the average bandit. I advanced quickly, lunging at his face and pushing him backward. He parried and blocked with a healthy respect for his own safety, which is rare in this kind of encounter. Most people want the fight over and done which leaves them taking too many risks.

Buckler came back in and I was fighting defensively.

I darted towards one side of armor, pushed his blade aside, and drove my spear butt into his groin area. I connected with something but I have no idea what as I was turning to worry about Buckler who was swinging his sword towards my head. I had room enough to sway aside from that and I could have continued to fight defensively, but Axeman was behind me and closing along with the other man that had climbed up the embankment. I was covered by a bowshot and it wouldn't be long before I would be forced to surrender and hope they didn't just kill me.

I drew my dagger and slashed out at Buckler's sword arm as it passed me. I felt the blade bite into the body and I saw blood but I was too slow. I turned and saw the pommel of a sword coming towards me, I ducked, but not fast enough and the pommel struck my temple. Blood flowed from the injury and ran into my eyes.

I staggered and slashed about with my spear in an effort to drive my assailants back and give me room to clear my vision.

"STOP," screamed a familiar voice and I felt the huge cushion of air knock me from my feet, sending me flying and staggering into Armor who staggered as well. But I was falling and landed on my back, my head bouncing off the ground.

I blinked and I saw Buckler standing there with a familiar dazed and confused look on his face which he was shaking off.

It seemed to be over and I wasn't dead. My head was swimming, leaving me feeling dizzy and nauseous.

A face swam into my view.

Of course, it was Kerrass. The man that had climbed up the embankment.

"Dammit Freddie, we nearly killed you." He was not smiling. In fact, he looked furious.

The entire fight, from the moment the first arrows struck the horse to when I took the blow to my head, was less than a minute. I have no idea how long it really was but it was certainly less than a minute. So to you, it might have been obvious what happened, but to me…

And the adrenaline just dropped out of my system and I blinked at Kerrass stupidly.

"You killed my horse," I said

Then I vomited and burst into tears.

Battle reaction can take you in a number of ways and it hits hard, especially when you weren't prepared for it. Strong hands helped me into a sitting position and I felt a waterskin at my lips, from which I drank freely. My weeping moment finished as quickly as it started.

I looked around for Kerrass who was arguing with Buckler. Something about "If you ever use your Sun blasted tricks on me again Witcher then I'm going to remove your testicles."

"So you are the famous Scholar?" The Armoured man said as he helped me to stand. A cloth was pushed into my hand and I pressed it to the head wound. "I am Brother Stefan of the order of the Blazing Sun."

I nodded to him before regretting it and having to take a couple of deep breaths.

"Easy there." Came a heavily accented, older voice. "Let me have a look at you."

I felt the cloth taken out of my hand as the injury was examined.

"Your healer," Brother Stefan smiled, "is called Henrik, and his daughter, the lovely Trayka is behind him."

"Call me lovely again Stefan and I'll cut your fucking balls off." Her voice was harsh and unpleasant. There was only a little bit of anger in her voice though, it sounded like an old argument.

"Language," warned the older man who was examining my head. "Speech like that is not going to attract a proper…"

"Fuck off Father. I have told you and told you..."

The older man sighed. Brother Stefan, or whatever his name was, caught my eye and rolled his own. I found myself liking him as Kerrass finished his argument with Buckler who's name, I would later find out was Piotr. Kerrass stamped over to us and glared down at me. "Will he live?"

"He's going to have a cursed bad headache for a day or so." The old man Henrik said. "And there's no telling with head wounds. But nothing is broken and he doesn't need stitches and I can make him a drink for the pain."

"Fuck that." Kerrass snarled, "Let him suffer. Walk with me, Freddie." He ordered.

It took me two attempts to climb to my feet and some deep breaths to fight back nausea. But Kerrass was relentless and led me a little way down the road.

"You killed my horse." I protested.

"Fuck your horse." Kerrass growled, "And fuck you too. We had heard there was someone following us and asking after us but it never occurred to me it could be you. What the fuck are you doing here? I swear that I am one cunt hair of the Goddess away from letting Piotr slit your throat."

I stared at him in shock.

"ANSWER ME FREDDIE." He yelled at me.

"I just…" I began. "I couldn't stay behind." I felt the tears of reaction threatening at the back of my throat again and felt the shame of them.

Kerrass, for his part, sighed.

"Freddie, look at me."

I did as I was told.

"Is this about Francesca? Is this about your sister?"

"No," I said.

"Because I swear on the Goddesses perfect ass-cheeks that if this is about your sister then…"

"It's not Kerrass. I swear to the Holy Flame, it's not about that. I just… I had nothing to do, my bits are finished and all that is left for me to do is to wait for the wedding. I've not felt this useless since the early days of traveling with you. I wanted to do something and I wanted the open road so bad that I could taste it. And I missed you, is that so bad?"

He stared at me flatly for a while. "Does Ariadne know?"

"She knows. She said that she should have seen this coming."

"So should I," Kerrass admitted, finally losing some of his anger before he found it again and turned on me. "Listen closely, Freddie. We are not just you and me here. We are a team and I am in charge. Do you get that?"

I nodded.

"You will have to play your part as we go and hunt the Schatenmann and we are all here for our own reasons. But you? Let me make a couple of things clear. If you have just lied to me, even if you didn't mean to lie, then I am going to tie you up and send you to the Empress. I mean it Freddie, And I will indulge myself a bit and knock the fuck out of you first. Do you understand?"

I nodded, a bit too eagerly for Kerrass' comfort.

"And I will not be the one that carries news of your death to Ariadne." He said. "If I tell you, you call in her and any other Sorceress that she can find. And if all else fails, she comes to get you to take you away, you understand?"

I nodded again, feeling the first stirrings of excitement.

"I mean it, Freddie. The Schatenmann's no fucking joke. This is not a nest of Nekkers or a Cave Troll that we're dealing with here."

"I get it…"

"Do you? Because if you endanger the rest of the team, more than one of them will slit your throat in order to save their own skins. Good people, but they have other priorities than either of us. Do you understand?"

I nodded. What else could I do?

(A/N: Thanks for sticking with it.)