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

164. Chapter 164

(A/N: Unfortunately, the power of the spell-checker is melting my crappy old laptop again. So this one is edited by my crappy amateur eye and without technological assistance. Please be gentle and thanks for reading.)

(Warning: Contains some extreme language. Also some anecdotal graphic imagery presented in the form of recalled memories.)

Hello again.

Dorthan, Professor Coulthard's publisher, I'm still here and still afraid.

The first batch of translations of Professor Coulthard's diary has headed off. Some have left on the barges that are heading north towards Novigrad and the rest of, well, anything that comes from the North. I spread it out amongst the barge owners with promises of payment if they present it and my note to the bank, that way I can be pretty sure that at least some of them will get through and won't be just tossed overboard.

Other bundles have gone South and across the bridge into Velen. The Baroness of Crow's Reach is known to be a good and dependable woman and the Empress was coming North from Vizima so we know that she is encamped somewhere along the road that leads through Velen. We hope that news will be able to reach us as to where exactly she is so that our messages can reach her in plenty of time to mount a response towards…

Well… Again, we don't know much.

My wife and children are long gone, as are those family members of my other workers. So even though the threat, whatever it is, is still largely unknown to us, I feel more than a little bit reassured as to what the future holds. The same with my other workers. We lost a few, especially those newer workers that we don't know very well. But otherwise, we are feeling pretty secure. The word is out there now. We have done our duty. The only thing left to do is to do as much of it as we can before our duty is no longer tenable.

One of my deputies did ask why I didn't wait until the entire diary was translated and we could print the entire lot. The answer is that I thought it vital that we get the basic message out there. Even if the first chunk of things is not particularly relevant, something that we have no way of being able to assess, then that opening message from Professor Coulthard was the vital piece and I had visions of the escape routes for the messengers being cut off. It needed to be out there that Professor Coulthard had been betrayed and that Countess Ariadne is a threat.

I am deliberately not doing too much speculation as to what is happening because I am concerned that if I speculate then that might colour the translation and printing work that we are doing. Professor Coulthard has given me many lessons on how to be a historian, although there are times when an opinion needs to be expressed and there are times when a person's perspective can affect things. When you are translating the words of the eyewitnesses and putting them in, a printed medium, it is the job of the publisher, the editor and all of those others involved to remove themselves from the process. We must be objective so that the events and words of the writer or the speaker can come through unfiltered.

I hope that I have been successful in, at least, that part.

But today, it would seem that I myself, am interacting in history.

So first I must add a disclaimer. My publishing house was one of those businesses that benefited from the Coulthard family increasing their influence within Oxenfurt. After the University formal that Professor Frederick spoke about, a formal that I attended, the Coulthards came into town and threw around a LOT of money. I don't know all of it but the amounts that were spent in my house alone were breathtaking.

I was able to hire a significant amount of new workers and order the parts to build two new printing presses, one to replace the old one that has seen better days and the other so that we can have two printers running at the same time. We were also able to move from our small, dingy, slightly damp cellar and into a large warehouse that was being adapted for purpose, mostly so that we could maintain the weight of the press without the floor sinking and so we could keep the damp out from damaging the fragile machinery.

One of the effects of building a city on an island that is largely made out of silt.

The newer chapters of the adventure of The Schattenmann were printed on this new printing press while we are still waiting for the parts for the other press to arrive. But now I am left wondering if all that I am going to have done is waste the money that was spent on a printing press that now, may never arrive.

I was, and remain immensely grateful to the Coulthard family as they found a dwarven printer and invested in him. Before I was able to rise to prominence in Oxenfurt, the majority of the printing for the University had to go to Novigrad or south to the Viziman war college who had no interest in anything that wasn't technical. So to have a printing press that was Oxenfurt's 'own' press has been invaluable and, I daresay, has made me rich.

In return for this grant of money from the Coulthard wealth, I had to sign a contract on behalf of myself, my press and all of the people that might own and operate the press after me. Breach of contract would result in the building and the machines being repossessed. However, I was quite happy to sign it.

The contract allowed me to call myself the official Oxenfurt University press. A name that hasn't been used before. I would be able to have the first refusal on the publishing rights of any academic book or paper that came out of the University, either written by the faculty, alumni or students. In short, if someone wants to publish something academic in the city of Oxenfurt, they have to come through me first. If I don't want it, then they can go elsewhere. Or if they don't want the good name of the Oxenfurt university attached, they can do that as well. The Chancellor of the university, who came with the Coulthards to meet me, was happy with this arrangement. It meant that my publishing house would become a guarantee of quality and that was what they wanted.

Existing publishing contracts would peter out and then I would take over.

I could not have been more excited. I had and still have so many plans about how to further this enterprise.

Further to this, I was forbidden from adding any kind of declaration that this was a Coulthard family press. If Professor Coulthard or any member of his family wanted to publish something then it would need to follow the same process as anyone else. They didn't want any kind of illusion that I, and the university, might have any kind of bias towards the family.

They were very insistent regarding this. I wanted to put a plaque on the new presses out of gratitude. Something like "paid for by the generosity of… blah blah blah." But this was forbidden by the terms of the contract. It was enough that I knew who had paid for it and the University knew who had paid for it.

It was suggested that the new press might be tainted if people knew that the Coulthards were involved. Which was fair enough.

And, as far as I know, this was the way that it went forwards for just about everyone that was a beneficiary of the Coulthard charm offensive on Oxenfurt. I know of several business leaders that have had their pockets lined by Coulthard gold. I know a landlord of a failing inn that now works directly for the university to provide relatively cheap housing for students that can't afford rent. This is for the scholarship students who are often priced out of being able to attend university because although fees might be paid, that doesn't pay for food, rent or laundry costs.

Speaking of which, I know several seamstresses that are being paid to provide clothing services. Inns that will be providing subsidised meals for students.

I saw the deans of the medical college openly laughing. Something that I just didn't think was possible. There are merchants that are going to be even richer than they were before as new equipment is being sent for, new buildings are being planned, new…

New Everything.

None of that might matter now and even this old dwarf's throat is thick with emotion at the thought of all of that waste.

So that is my perspective on what had happened. I don't have much to say about the rest of it. The Anti-Coulthard sentiment was real but most prevalent among the uneducated and those people that were outright rivals of the Coulthard people. Those nobles that believe that they have a right to be awful to those people that have less money than they do, awful to those belonging to different races and a less worthy name. They were the people that hated the Coulthard family. People that refused to believe that their darling little treasure of a boy could have been involved in something as horrific as a gang that would ritually hunt, torture and abuse people.

And worse, those people that believed that it was their right to do so. Those were the people that hated the Coulthards in the first place.

And I might be able to offer a perspective on that too.

"How dare these people rise to the point where they have power over us? They should know their place."

That is the song of these fuckwits.

Why have the Coulthard family become so powerful? The patronage of the Empress will only take them so far although I suspect that was part of it. I think that the former Lord Coulthard was more clever than people give him credit for. I think he planned this climb to prominence. I think he knew what he was doing when he sent his children into the places that he did.

So that is my perspective on what has been translated so far.

I share the reader's frustration that there are no concrete answers in Professor Coulthard's diaries. We do not know what has happened, or why. The clerk is translating as fast as he can, and we are now held up more by the process of printing than we are about that. I have no idea how much there is to go. I have learned that the best thing a dwarf can do when he pays his subordinates to do a job is to get out of the way and let them all do their jobs. So I sit up here in my office, watching the eastern sky burn and writing my own thoughts down.

I have never done this before. I fell backwards into printing and publishing. I wanted to be a poet but I did not have the knack for making the words dance as the best poets do. After that, I tried to write fiction, specifically romantic fiction. But it turns out that what a dwarf like me thinks of as romantic fiction and what the average consumer of romantic fiction is are two different things.

Not as many readers are into women with beards. What can I say?

So I became a printer. I am excited about helping those people who do have this gift, pass it out into the world. And now one of them is running for his life, if not dead or already captured.

Poor Professor Coulthard.

Poor Freddie.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

Well… It's now the early hours of the following morning but if all had gone correctly, then I imagine that there would still be revellers dancing the night away.

I mean to add my own words to the next lot of Freddie's diary that is printed and translated. I hope that I can add some perspective or context that the following investigators might find useful.

Today… yesterday was the Autumnal Equinox. The day of Professor Coulthard's wedding, as was originally planned.

However, as the reader will probably know, those plans fell through and the wedding was delayed by a week.

The delay was, as far as I can tell, perfectly innocent. A storm blew up out at sea which kept the Skelligan delegation in Port. The storm was so fierce that even Lord Helfdan, Jarl of the Black Boar, Admiral of the Imperial navy and Skelligan ambassador to the Imperial court, refused to sail in it. Saying that the Queen of Skellige would stay in port whether she liked it or not.

The same storm turned the roads around us to mud which delayed many guests including that most important guest in the body of the Empress herself. I met the lady myself as she was present at Professor Coulthard's stag party and I learned that there are two women there. The one is Ciri, the friend, comrade and drinking partner of the Professor. The other is the Empress Cirilla, she of the more titles than anyone else on the continent put together.

Ciri would just steal a horse and come to see her friend and adopted little/big brother get married. The Empress has to bring her entire court with her wherever she goes. This was the root of the delay I think.

So it was agreed by all parties that the wedding would be delayed.

Professor Coulthard was heartbroken but spent a while telling his friends that he had waited several years to be married to the woman of his dreams and that he could wait a week longer.

There are still many guests up at the castle though and it was declared that there would be a dinner held for those guests tonight.

I am useless with books which is one of the reasons that I didn't take to writing. I can never resist knowing the ending and nearly always turn to the back of the book to see what happens. Well, I did it with Professor Coulthard's diary too, insisting that the Clerk skips to the end.

The diary ends with the final entry being the morning of that dinner and the Professor Coulthard that wrote that entry appears to be relaxed and relatively happy. So by my calculations, the last entry was written this… now yesterday's morning on the morning of the Autumnal Equinox. And the entry does not comment on the coming disaster.

So what happened? While the next load of Professor Coulthard's writing is being translated, I will tell you what little bit I can

Here is what we know, what anyone in Oxenfurt, let alone the friends of the family might know.

We know that the full, surviving Coulthard family is up at the castle in preparation for the coming festivities. We know that this includes Lord Samuel Coulthard, Count of Kalayn. Cardinal Mark Coulthard, Ladies Rose and Emma von Coulthard.

Lady Rose has been allowed to set aside her religious duties while attending the wedding of her youngest son. She arrived incognito a little while ago as part of a pilgrimage to the Novigrad cathedral. She had gone to the cathedral and then had come back where it was agreed that she would stay at Castle Coulthard until the ceremony was over at which time she would return to Ellander to take up her holy duties again.

Lord Samuel arrived a couple of days before the Stag party, to take part in the party itself and as such, I met him. I have to say that although he was charming and friendly, there was an attitude about him that suggested that he was keeping everybody at a full arm's distance. He seemed to be very tired and worn down to my eyes. It was certainly clear that Ciri didn't like him. I didn't know him and he agreed to continue with the work that his Elder Brother and sister had started in Oxenfurt, as such, I don't have anything to comment on.

We know that the dinner was due to start at the seventh hour after midday. Only the closest friends and family were invited to that dinner which meant, essentially, the groom's family and those guests of the Countess that couldn't find other lodgings. Meaning the Duke and Duchess of Angraal. Those closest friends of the Countess are mostly Sorceresses and as such, could make their own arrangements.

We know that the Empress, after taking part in the respective Stag and Hen parties, returned to her encampment near Vizima where she could continue to come North in her more official guise of Empress. So we know that she is not in the castle.

Unfortunately, that's about all that is known for certain. The refugees that are fleeing… whatever is happening in Coulthard lands, spin dark stories of large, powerfully built knights in black and red armour hunting down the Elves and the other non-humans that have taken up residence in Coulthard lands. There are stories of fire and smoke and laughter that echo inside the metal helmets. There are stories of blood and the screams of those that have been caught. These soldiers, Knights, monsters or whatever they are wearing a variety of liveries. Some come from the other nearby Lords who have holdings around Oxenfurt. Some are from further North. Some are wearing Coulthard colours, but all seem to be carrying Redanian flags.

It would seem that Redania, or some parts of Redania at least, have risen in Rebellion. The old guard, the non-human haters have crawled out of the woodwork like the rats that they are, in protest at the Imperial declarations of non-human tolerance and a polytheistic society and have taken up arms.

Which means… I'm not sure what it means.

The Empress is coming North and she has an army at her back. A battle-hardened army that is used to dealing with this kind of insurrection. Eyes are on the North and what the Queen Regent will do. Adda is known to be power-hungry and rumoured to be more than a little bit unhinged, but this seems to be a little bit… I don't know… A little bit extreme, even for her.

A runner has just arrived to take my notes off to the printers. For the latest batches of Professor Coulthard's notes to be translated.

Good luck everyone. I'm going to try and get some rest.

Over to the Professor

Entry 41

I really enjoyed the last couple of days. Being able to walk up to friends and enemies who I didn't like and ask them what they need. And by enemies, I mean those people that I don't like but at the same time, have a lot of sympathy for or know that they have their hearts in the right place.

It always went the same way. It didn't matter if it was Dorthan, Maxwell (Dorthan: A prominent innkeeper), the Chancellor or any number of deans. They would always look at Emma and me with a glare of profound scepticism before we would look at them and nod encouragingly until we started to drag out what they were looking for. Then, in front of them, we would contact merchants and contracts that we could easily get hold of and then order all the things that they wanted. I literally watched as the thought broke through Dorthan's bearded face that we really were buying him a new printing press, and then a second one and then the fear hit him that he would need different premises that he couldn't afford. Then Emma offered him one of the warehouses to set up in and then…

And then that smile cracked his beard.

I've always enjoyed watching dwarfs smile. Something about the way that you can't see their lips, only their teeth, but the way that all of that hair just seems to shift in place until the shape of the smile seems to come through. I never get tired of that.

So we did all of that over several days and then we waited for the inevitable backlash to everything that we were doing.

A backlash that never came.

What is happening? We own a significant portion of Oxenfurt now. And those people that are left, owe us their future. Our influence over the city is not small, people should be angry, and people should be scared.

But nothing is happening. There have been no emergency meetings called, no-one has accosted me in the street.

Nothing is happening.

There's a famous play, famous because it's commonly seen as being terrible. It was written as a serious drama about warfare. The playwright and the acting company in question were convinced that their work was going to be the next historical epic and couldn't understand why everyone was laughing at them.

This play has entered the public consciousness now so that even if you have never read it, or seen it, you will know some of it. In this case, the scene is between two sentries standing on the sentry line. One turns to the other and says

"It's quiet,"

And the other replies.

"Yeah, too quiet."

I have seen the play multiple times now and that line, and the way that it is delivered has never failed to get a laugh out of me. It's always delivered with this ultra-serious, dour, portentous nature to it.

But that's how I feel now. It's too quiet. Emma is telling me not to worry. She says that our enemies are regrouping and that there will soon be no shortage of people yelling at us and telling us that we are the root of all evil. I told her that I didn't find that reassuring.

Entry 42

I've spent a few days now waiting for the hammer to drop. Waiting for the return volley of arrow-fire or whatever is happening. But it seems that our enemies have retreated. Some have been converted and more than one person has approached me and insisted upon shaking my hand. Even when I have refused that effort.

But the thought is there.

Someone has defaced the monument that has been set up where Cousin Kalayn and the rest of the cultists were burnt. They took a bunch of paint there and daubed it in crimson before painting 'murderers' in black. Then there were signs that quite a few people had dumped their own faeces in front of the stone. They caught some of the vandals and they turned out to be drunken students. The case is up before a magistrate soon and I have been asked to attend. I have written to Emma to see what she wants me to do and she is encouraging me to attend. I have the distinct feeling that the entire action of the Cousin Kalayn thing is about to be put on trial.

I am looking forward to it.

In the meantime, nothing to do but work on the Schattenmann chapters. We will soon be reaching the dryad village and the death of Henrik.

Poor Henrik. I had liked that old man.

Entry 43

It is increasingly clear that the trial against those student vandals is becoming an opportunity to relitigate the entire matter regarding Cousin Kalayn. The trial has been delayed so that the matter can be "properly prepared for which has made me kind of nervous. I don't know which way this is going to go. The vandals are arguing that it was just a harmless student prank.

Which it is.

Some people are arguing that defacing the names of the fallen is disrespectful. Which it is as well, or would be if those self-same people were anything other than who they were.

I have reread all my old notes on the subject and am kind of looking forward to the trial while also being a little nervous.

Entry 44

The trial was everything I had feared it to be and wanted it to be. Those poor students were just an excuse for people to attack the entire process. Some people had been spoiling for a fight for so long that now that it had come to a point…

As I understand it, the issue was that the families of some of the cultists had been moving towards getting their relatives and sons and hangers-on exonerated on the day. But then the mob had descended and broken those cultists out so that they could all be burned as the heretics that they were.

The people that were responsible for that mob, vigilante action were never caught. This outraged the people that were working towards that exoneration. They have been wanting to question those people involved for many years and try to find the guilty to punish them. I was one of the people that they wanted to question and punish.

I like how they assumed that I was guilty.

But Rickard, the captain of the guard, the various priests that were involved in the questioning, some of Mark's church guards that witnessed the horrors that the cult had inflicted on the populace… Even Mark himself was summoned to the stand.

He didn't go. There are some benefits to being a cardinal of the church. He sent a deputy with his sworn deposition. We all recounted the facts as we remembered them. I had the benefit of being able to refer to my initial notes and as such, the matter was soon thrown out. I don't know which way the magistrate wanted to go, but it became clear that the pro-cultist faction was just angry and making their case by depending on noble blood and influence. Whatever else might happen, heresy trumps influence and the church has to stand by that. And if the church stands by that then…

And whatever else might be the case, we are still a Nilfgaardian state and the legal system is now Nilfgaardian rather than Redanian.

I did get a laugh out of the watchers when I made a joke about wondering why we were going over this cult business again after the trial was supposed to be about a bunch of students getting drunk and damaging monuments.

They ended up paying a fine.

I understand that there are plans to have the monument removed.

Entry 45

I went and watched the monument being removed. A troll that was working on a local construction site was hired to turn up and take it away. A couple of people were there. A hysterical woman that was dressed in noble attire got all dramatic and threw herself on the stone. Someone tried to restrain her and keep her away so that the confused troll could do his work. Then someone else tried to prevent the restrainer and a fight nearly broke out.

The troll looked very confused.

Someone threw a stone at him and he protested loudly, the protest was loud enough that others realised that protesting at an angry troll was not the best idea for long-term health and the entire thing fell apart.

It was funny. Sad, but funny.

I wish Kerrass were here.

Entry 46

There is a saying in courtier circles. It is derived from the old saying about the only good defence is a good offence. Courtiers say that this is doubly true for politics and if there is no enemy immediately presenting itself, then a good politician or courtier should find one.

I find myself without an enemy to hit, or an enemy to chase or…

I am without monsters to slay.

I also have the sinking feeling that I am being played. I don't like that feeling.

Writing regarding the Schattenmann is going well and the first Witcher lecture is the day after tomorrow.

Entry 47

It has been a long time since I last had stage fright, but today I have it. I used to get it quite badly during that phase of my childhood when my mother tried to get me to learn a musical instrument. Then she would expect that I would come and stand before the rest of the family and whatever societal friends that might have been passing through…

Back when my mother still had friends that she could communicate with of course.

But she would make me stand in front of all of them and play them all a tune. I would then ask them what she wanted me to play and she would wave her hand kind of dismissively and tell me whatever tune my teacher had been making me go through.

But at that stage of learning, I was just learning those pieces where the purpose of the music was to teach me proper fingering and things for the harp. Not music so much as exercises.

I would die of embarrassment as my mother would line up three of her severe female friends and then they would watch as I stutteringly plucked my way through the tune that I had played for my tutor perfectly only an hour or so before.

Then they would sniff and tell me to keep working at it.

Now I have stage fright.

The Dean booked the biggest lecture theatre in the University for my first lecture on Witchers. It's normally a theatre that is reserved for those overly booked introductory courses. Things like Poetry and art appreciation. Overbooked because people think that it will be an easy course and a good way to meet members of the gender of choice. The lecturer rarely wastes time in weeding these people out though.

I had been in it twice and both times were to enjoy some visiting lecturers that I wanted to hear speak.

This time I entered it from the little side entrance at the back which led out and onto the stage. I went there yesterday so I would at least know where to stand. I thought it was like speaking into a barn and told myself that it would never be filled.

It is now standing room only.

I need to stop and check my notes again to make sure that they are all in the proper place and order.

I mean, I know that they are, I've checked a couple of dozen times already.

But…

Entry 48.

Fucking hell. I look through the curtains and EVERYONE is here. Fucking Lady Eilhart is sitting in the front row with a notebook, a piece of charcoal and a calculating expression.

Maleficent is sitting next to her. She still has horns but her human shape is much better. She looks amused by everything.

FUCKING FUCKY FUCKETY FUCK. CIRI'S HERE. She's sitting front row centre with a back of snacks.

Entry 49

Couldn't have gone better. I've never been applauded after a lecture before. I'm going to get drunk.

Entry 50

Ciri didn't stay for the reception afterwards. She intercepted me in advance to give me a hug, tell me that I had done really well and say that she was just showing her support as a proper family member.

I told her that if she wanted to support me, she didn't need to sit there grinning at me all the time.

She laughed and left.

Maleficent is doing well. She's enjoying her status and also enjoying the fact that no one knows or believes the fact that she's a dragon. She finds it amusing that she could just eat everyone in the room and there wasn't a lot that many people could do anything about.

Her physical shape is much better. Nothing she can do, nor wants to do, about her horns. She has pale, kind of greenish, purply skin but it could pass as a human tint unless you looked closely. She wears an almost permanent smile, just this side of cruelty.

She told me that her daughter was doing well, considering everything that had happened, asked after Kerrass and told me that she intended to lock Kerrass and her daughter into a room at my wedding, before throwing in a bunch of aphrodisiacs and not letting them out until screams of pleasure had emerged.

I told her that I didn't need that image.

She laughed again.

She is working with Lady Eilhart on the proposed Witcher mutations as she is older than most and therefore can put her hands on some of the more esoteric herbal knowledge.

For her part. Lady Eilhart greeted me surprisingly warmly. For the first time, I saw her as a lonely woman. She has been so meticulous in presenting herself as a cold, aloof and terrifying woman that few would get near her. She did admit that she was there to lend some kind of official support and that the series was likely to be too light on actual content for her, given that it was clear that my series was a bit more introductory than she needed. She promised that she would be there for the lecture on the trials of the Witcher creation and again for the final lecture on the philosophy of the Witcher before leaving me with the stunning final statement that she looked forward to working with me again in the future.

Then she left, also spending time speaking with the movers and the shakers.

To be honest, I was so relieved that it had all gone well that I wasn't paying attention. I was in a room full of people that were all but cheering my name. People that include some of my heroes and they were the ones congratulating ME.

It is the following morning now and I still can't believe that it happened. I feel like I've lost a bunch of weight, that I am younger and fairly bouncing along. My cheeks are positively aching from all the smiling that I've been doing. I'm not sure that I can take this much longer. I'm enjoying the people that I work with and no student question is too boring or inane for me to stop and spend some time with.

I feel like the sun has come out from behind the clouds.

Something had better happen soon or this is going to be too much.

Entry 51

The required slap to the face happened this morning. A note from Dorthan reminding me that he was still waiting on the next chapter regarding The Schattenmann.

I am deep in the matter of the awful things that were going on in the dryad's village now. The awful things that they made me do and the awful things that they made each other do. I had not wanted to go back to the horror of that. The horror and the joy, the found love and the friendship. The bitterness of knowing that I was kind of happy, living out the primal male fantasy but also knowing that the executioner's axe was hanging over my neck and the axe of the future and societal condemnation was hanging over their heads.

I still think of them both often and I wonder how they are getting on. I miss them and in missing them, I feel as though I am betraying Ariadne.

She tells me not to be foolish, she says it lovingly and I know that she doesn't resent me for what happened in the Black Forest, nor does she hate either Chestnut-Shell or Apple-Seed, the worst that can be said is that she is slightly jealous of the pair of them. She often expresses the desire to meet them.

This reluctance in the middle of a project is not unusual. It is always hard in the middle when any other project that might be on the go is more attractive than the one that I am working on. Right now I would much rather be going over the proofs of the book on the Unseen Elder or researching the Headless Horseman, the Rumplesteldt or the Knight of the Bridge. Literally anything other than talking about Chestnut-Shell's pain at what we were all going through.

Which is the moment that I need to properly buckle down and get on with it.

Speaking of which…

Entry 52

The ending of this series of articles is beginning to loom over me now. It is there, standing over an ending like there hasn't been anything before. The climax of several of these stories is often fun to write. The stuff about what happened immediately after the Skeleton Ship and the affirmation of Helfdan was, frankly, a joy. The climax of the Burning sword was a catharsis on top of the catharsis as it happened at the time. But this… the fact that I felt, and still feel as though I failed when we went to the Black Forest…

I am not satisfied with it. I'm not happy with it.

It's as though it's not over, there is no definitive ending to it. I know that this is true and is the problem with recording history, but it's not just that. Or at least, I don't think it's just that. The fallout for what happened in Dorne with Sleeping Beauty went on and is still going on, long after my involvement ended. The cult in the North was wiped out after my part in it was over and was continuing while I sat talking with a unicorn. They were still performing the trials while I was sailing around in a Skelligan longship.

But this time, it's not a satisfying ending. It still feels as though things are undone, that my involvement is still ongoing.

I'm doing a lot of self-examination at the moment and I'm finding it tiring. Am I just being paranoid? I don't know.

Entry 53

I remain convinced that I was speaking to the Schattenmann at the ending of all things in the Black Forest. I am sure of it. I think Mark was right, that if the Schattenmann could reach through the veil of death or whatever other pieces of poetic nonsense that can be written about death and whatever comes after… If he can do that then all of the things that we know about life after death are wrong.

So I think that the Father that I spoke to was a conjuring, a ghost made up of my own memories.

Which is actually a bit reassuring. It means that, deep down, I know that he loved me and was proud of me, even while my heart and mind reject that but…

I think I was speaking to the Schattenmann. I think he was trying to communicate something to me and that was the only way that he could speak in a way that I could understand.

Jack and the beings like him have often commented that we humans, Elves and other mortal creatures are held captive by a linear perspective of time. If The Schattenmann is the same then he must have known what was going to happen. Therefore, everything that happened, both before we entered the Black Forest and up until we left, was by his design.

Therefore, he knew that Stefan, whoever or whatever he was and is, was going to steal Kerrass' silver sword. He knew that Stefan would need to be driven to that extreme. So he also knew that he had to do everything to get us to that point.

So that means that those questions that Father asked me were deliberate. If that was his way of talking to me, then what was he trying to tell me?

I am now genuinely concerned that I am being paranoid about this. I have a second lecture to work on and other chapters to address before we get there. I am borrowing trouble against the future and that is meaningless.

I need to get back to work.

Entry 54

Ariadne visited today. The time went by too fast for both of us. Flame but I love that woman. When she is not with me, I am always concerned that whatever I feel for her might be some kind of illusion, that it is impossible for me to love someone that much. I think of Marion, Saffron, Helene, Charlotte, Chestnut-Shell, Anne, Apple-Seed and those others. Too few for my pride but more than enough for the education that they gave me. I try to put my feelings for Ariadne into context but then I see her.

I see her nervousness when she steps into view, wondering how I am going to react. She has never lost the nervousness that I might see her as a monster or be afraid of her. And there is always this moment where she searches my face for something and then she doesn't find it. Then there is a moment of visible relief before she smiles. I love that moment. The moment of learned trust.

We walked in the sunshine along the docks, ate from Bill's wagon on the green, had dinner at the university and then she left before I could be tempted to ask her to stay and she would be tempted to ask if she could.

I will be marrying that woman soon. And when I say it like that… I kind of want to…

I don't know.

It sounds so mundane when I say it, or write it like that. As though it's just some ordinary, mundane thing. I am going to marry that woman. I don't need to hide the fact that I am looking at her and to know that I am actively going to be allowed to touch her,

No, that's not right.

That I'm actively going to be encouraged to touch her. That touching her is something that she will want me to do. That is mind-blowing to me.

The thought that the two of us might share a bed and other intimacies is too much for me to comprehend. She knows it too and has since expressed an opinion that she feels the same way.

That is mind-blowing too. That she, an ancient, wondrous, intelligent being would giggle at a filthy thought and then look at me slyly. That she would willingly, happily and without prompting, adjust her appearance to something that I would prefer, even though I have never told her that.

I kissed her good night. I have tried not, to try and contain myself without doing it but I find that I cannot. And she gave this little gasp of excitement. It was just on that cusp, that moment where we had to pull away from each other, breathing a little harder than we should be for an unmarried couple.

She pulled away and told me to go and visit a brothel to get it out of my system. She was smiling as she said it. I'm not entirely certain as to whether or not she was joking.

I saw her an hour ago and I miss her.

Entry 55

As expected, the fan mail has started to come in regarding the chapters on the Schattenmann, lots of early excitement and then later things taper off. A few people have envied having all of those willing dryads to choose from. Then wondering why I just didn't dive in, dick first.

I have no answer for those people. I try to reply to a lot of these kinds of mail because it always feels rude not to. But I feel about this kind of thing, the same way that I feel about those, thankfully less nowadays, people that used to write to me and say that I should just plough the Vampire and have done with it.

I never kept those letters and am wondering if any of those people are the same people.

Entry 56

Gave the second of the Witcher series of lectures today. There were fewer people at the lecture and although I can tell myself that I did all the work, that I could not have delivered it better than how I did, that there is always a drop-off during a lecture series and fewer people are attending, I am losing my confidence.

I know it's artificial, I know it's all in my head. I know it. But I want to try and get hold of one of the people that didn't attend and ask them why they didn't come to the second lecture.

I even know a lot of the answers. They attended the first one to network with all of the important people that were there. They attended the first lecture because it was a trendy lecture and they needed to be seen to attend. They attended the first lecture and then decided that it wasn't for them, that they weren't as interested in the subject matter as they thought they were going to be.

They were sick, had other commitments, lecture clashes, and all kinds of things. And all of those reasons are genuine and understandable.

But I fret. I want to make sure that I am delivering the best possible…

The fact that I know that I know that I am being foolish is not as helpful as people think it is.

My tutor gave me the best advice. He told me that there is a danger of tying yourself in knots over this. That there is a danger in obsessing over the one that doesn't turn up versus the ninety-nine that does.

And he is right.

I was still booked into the largest hall on campus. And I still filled it with people sitting on the steps in the aisles and standing at the back.

There were just fewer people there.

Dammit

Entry 57

I am beginning to feel really paranoid now. And I feel really stupid because of it.

I am working on the chapters regarding the descent into The Schattenmann's hollow. I can feel myself procrastinating. Filling the word count so that I don't have to write about what The Schattenmann told me and what The Schattenmann asked me.

What Father might have been asking me?

What did he mean, 'where there is one, there is always more?'

I have spent far too many nights staring at the ceiling as I try to answer that question.

Entry 58

I am summoned back to the castle this weekend. I have no idea why. I am going to take the opportunity to get away from the various students and hangers-on that accost me occasionally. Carys enjoys it. She enjoys hissing at them and laughs as they scamper off in fear. I have had to tell her off about it and she turns to me and smiles, asking me if I wanted to talk to them about whatever inane nonsense that they wanted to ask me about and I respond, as honestly as I can, that I didn't. No, I didn't want to talk to them. That their questions are boring, inane, rote and straight out of the textbook. Or out of their parent's mouths or out of their friend's mouths. That I can tell an original question at a hundred paces.

But I can't do that and I can't be seen to do that.

"Why?" She asked. Not unfairly.

"Because to you and me, it is boring and rote and tedious and… But to them, it is the most important question in the world."

She found that troubling.

Entry 59

I visited Father again on my way home as it's not that far out of my way. I felt… I felt as though I, and he, had nothing much to say to each other. The last time I was here, he looked as though he was turning away from me in disgust. This time, he just carved lines in the stone. I have no idea what that meant. It left me feeling… I don't know how it left me feeling.

I wonder if it's beginning to become routine now. Dull. As though visiting Father is just something that I do now. A chore that must be ticked off like oiling and cleaning my spear.

Entry 60

So that was the big deal.

Mother is coming home and Emma and Mark wanted to tell me that in person rather than to let me know in a letter. When they told me, I had nothing really to say on the matter. I think that I said "oh".

They were worried about me, I could tell. They peered at me carefully and have taken steps so that I am surrounded by people who are watching me carefully to make sure that I don't… I don't know… go completely off the rails.

They told me. I nodded. I asked them when she was going to get here. They told me and that was that. I asked what time dinner was and went to my study to get back to work.

She's coming back via a pilgrimage to the Cathedral at the top of Novigrad. She will travel there as a nun before she will return to the castle where she's going to stay as, essentially our guest. I am…

I am troubled by how little I am troubled about this news.

Entry 61

Emma is worried about me again. I nodded and asked her why. She told me that she was expecting more of a response from me regarding the return of our mother. I nodded, sighed and expressed agreement. I am worried too and I don't know why either.

I thought I would react more.

I remember the vote where our mother was sentenced for the crime of infanticide. Emma had said that she should be let go. Sam had voted for death. And I had voted for exile. Mark was the senior and Lord Coulthard presided. I remember having the idea. I remember having Kerrass make his speech about how our mother, at that moment, had been a Witcher.

I remembered kind of enjoying the absurdity of the four children having to sit in judgement over the mother that had tried to teach us morals.

I remember the horror that I felt as Emma and Sam agreed with my decision, my sentence and I remember the urgent need to vomit when Mother told us that was proud of us.

This should be bothering me more than it is. So why isn't it?

She will be here soon, a couple of weeks.

She will be allowed to call herself the Dowager Baroness while she is here and she will have to return to Ellander as a nun when I leave for Skellige for my honeymoon. That is the deadline for her departure.

Entry 62

I took today off work. I had an overwhelming feeling that I haven't looked up from my desk in several weeks. Filling my time with essays and writing and lecture plans. Reading old works and checking notes. Even keeping this diary, I am not entirely certain why I am still doing it.

I went with Rickard on a patrol with half a dozen guys. Some of which were the survivors of the Northern cult. Rickard has taken some of those Elves and other victims of the cult of the first-born and he has turned them into soldiers. We went out, rode some of the surrounding areas, and met with some of the local village leaders that made quick reports to Sir Rickard about things that they had seen out there, potential bandit groups and things. Rickard promised to pursue the matter and look into it before we all rode off. I wondered if he would need any help in dealing with any of the bandits.

He laughed at me.

"Even if I needed help, Lord Coulthard." He told me, "I would not ask you."

He always calls me Lord Coulthard when we are in front of the men or formal circumstances. I don't like it.

"I could order it." I told him.

"You could." He countered. "But I don't work for you."

He grinned to take the sting of it away from me. He knows that I resent the formality that sometimes exists between us and I know that he has to keep the distance and why.

Neither of us likes it. But I can normally depend on a mug of ale next time we are passing a tavern together.

Entry 63

Back to Oxenfurt tomorrow.

I extended my day off to being a weekend off. I stole a bunch of food from the kitchens and kidnapped Emma so that we could go and get some fresh air and get away from things. I wanted to talk to her the way that we used to, away from prying ears. Where I wouldn't have to talk about academics and she wouldn't have to talk about business.

We talked about Mother, Father and Edmund. We talked about Francesca, Laurelen and Ariadne. She confessed that she still worries about the future with her eternally young and beautiful lover. I told her about my fears regarding the future as well. About how I would fit in with the noble crowd.

About the wedding.

I told her that I felt unworthy of Ariadne and wondered how was she still interested in me?

Quite rightly, we told each other off for our mutual fears. We should enjoy the moment while it lasts and stop worrying about it. That these two wonderful women have chosen us in the here and now of the situation and that we needed to stop doubting them both.

Back to Oxenfurt tomorrow. Dealing with students is far less dangerous.

Entry 64

I can no longer procrastinate. The last chapter about what happened around the Schattenmann is done. The death of the old and the choosing of the new. Stefan's theft and strike. I feel a little bit as though I rushed the ending there. The headlong flight of a shocked Kerrass and a bewildered Freddie, the death of the dryad and so on. I feel as though I rushed it but I also feel as though… I am not entirely sure. I am not convinced that I was the one that wanted to get to the end of that particular piece of writing.

Nothing else for it. Off to the printer it goes and tomorrow, I start the conversation with my father.

My readers are going to hate it.

I hate it, so I don't know how they are going to find it.

Entry 65

Writing on the talking with my Father is continuing and is going well. The words are flowing out of me as they always do when I feel that what I am talking about is important. This is not the blind recitation of facts that I do to provide context, nor is this the wandering mind of a man that is looking for the parts of the story that he feels passionate about.

This is the word flow of a man that is interested in what he is saying.

I can feel everyone's "I told you so" in the air.

The third lecture on the trials of a Witcher turned out to be more popular than the second. The traitorous voice in the back of my skull that tries to point out everything wrong is trying to tell me that this lecture was more exciting and less dry. Others say that people saw how disappointed I was with previous attendance and have taken steps to address the matter. I don't know which of the two things I want to believe. But there were more people there.

Lady Eilhart was there, dressed a little more demure than she normally is and was scribbling furiously in her notepad.

When the lecture was done, she thanked me for the lecture and left with the pace of a woman that had things to think about and check up on. She was ignoring the calls of her name and the questions that were shouted at her. She never does that, she is always trying to make friends and make contact with people. She is a woman that obsessively tries to make connections so that the fall of the Lodge will never happen again. But this time she all but ran out of the room.

I have no idea what to make of that.

Entry 66

I remember writing this conversation down in my journal.

I am in the depths of the conversation with my Father now. I have my travel notes next to me and I am all but transcribing it across.

I remember that this was the first set of notes that I made when we made it out of the Forest. The time with the two dryads had let me make notes on the journey up until that point and it would not be unfair if a later reader commented on the quality of the recollections after that moment.

But I had not had the chance to make many notes while I descended into the hollow to meet with the Schattenmann and my mind was too occupied in the immediate aftermath of that to do much else. So when we escaped, after exchanging notes with Kerrass and making my peace with Ariadne, we went to an inn where I stole a table with Kerrass' help so that I could work outside to combat my occasional bouts of claustrophobia.

And the first thing I did was to write up the conversation that I had with my Father.

I didn't understand why. Normally, I make notes and write things down in chronological order. There are exceptions to that. Normally the big conversations and the interviews are done with the notes next to me and then I write the words straight away, only to take those notes out later when I am putting everything in the correct order.

But for this? It was vital to me that I work on that conversation and get it all out and into the paper as fast as possible. It seemed important and I could not rest until the deed was done.

And now that I come to translate it all into the kinds of things which I would pass onto my clerk and my publisher? I am writing in a fever, a frenzy of words. I have to force myself to stop and eat, let alone sleep.

I think I am going to be done before the next lecture which is all to the good.

Entry 67

The conversation is done. I leave my article self in the field where I woke up. There's more to write, I don't feel that even my part in the story is done now. As we still spent the better part of a month down there walking around and investigating things. But I am exhausted.

The clerk has written the entire thing out for me so that it can be read and I mean to… I don't know…

I am going back to the castle. Tonight if I can manage it. I have a satchel full of work that I need to grade and a book on the sightings of the headless horseman. I am going to go home, and grade a whole shit ton of papers before I find a nice sunny part of the castle where I can watch the workers putting together the temporary guest rooms and erect the huge open-air kitchen while I read my book.

I can't wait.

Entry 68

The best-laid plans of scholars.

I took a book but it remains untouched and I have done half the grading. If I sit down with it, I can probably do it before I have to ride back to Oxenfurt.

But I haven't done even a fraction of what I wanted to do.

So what have I been doing?

I'm glad you asked diary…

Oh flame, I've become one of those people that talks to his diary.

What I've been doing is reading the conversation with my Father, the Schattenmann over and over and over again.

What did he mean? Where there is one there is more.

I can't think… This is getting bad.

Entry 69.

I'm not going back to Oxenfurt today. I finished the grading and I sent it, and a message off to the Dean of history. I have told them that I am sick, which is not that far from the truth anyway. And I am going to sit down with the words of The Schattenmann and I am going to try and think this out. Making myself not think about it is not working. So it is time to go in the other direction.

Let's dive in. I've warned Ariadne about it and she has, in turn, warned Laurelen who will act if this is becoming a problem. So I have a study in the castle now, and it's time to work.

Entry 70.

So the diary that was supposed to act as a way for me to get my emotions and my feelings out of my head and onto paper has now become a research journal regarding what The Schattenmann told me and asked me.

I am dissecting my own writings as if I was a historian trying to look at them and decide what was going on with them. So let's look at the evidence.

(Dorthan: The next chunk of things from the diary is very disjointed. If you have any experience in reading people's field journals then you will know what I mean. It involves leaps of logic that don't go anywhere and conclusions that are arrived at without intervening thought before the writer, Professor Coulthard, goes back to fill in the gaps of his own thinking.

The clerk, who has been working with Professor Coulthard for several years, did his best to put it in a linear form so that a reader can follow the reasoning. I think he did well and all credit should go to him. If we all get out of this alive, then I intend to have him commended or something for his work.)

I think, in fact, I am convinced that the man I spoke to in that dream realm was not my father, but was more of a projection of my Father, taken from my own memories. So why do I think that?

There is the obvious fact that he only tells me things that I would know for myself. I know that my father loved me and was proud of me. He wrote to me to tell me that. I also think that it wasn't the sugar-coated version of my father that I would have wanted, this was my actual memory of the man. But it was still what I remembered. Father was more generous and friendlier to Emma and more remote from Mark and Sam. So this proves that the man, my father, was more complicated than just the man I interacted with.

"A soldier can be a good family man while also being the nightmarish figure that kills children at the end of a siege" as Rickard says.

People are more complicated and the man I spoke to was my father. There was no nuance to him that would suggest that he was more than that.

But that's a gut feeling so let's go deeper.

When recounting my history since Father's death, the man I spoke to wasn't that interested in the things that I think Father would have been the most interested in. The dream man was not interested in Sleeping Beauty and the goings on in Dorne. Looking over my notes, that is one of the biggest clues. He didn't care about Dorne or Sleeping Beauty.

But the awakening of the Princess has caused a seismic shift in the balance of power in Southern Nilfgaard and Father, no matter the fact that it was quite remote, would want to see if there was any advantage to be had there.

That was my Father, he would always be looking for a way up, a boost that he could have over the next guy, the next person. Always on the make, always looking for the next promotion, the next zero that he could add to his fortune, the next elevation that he could secure for himself or his family. He would certainly have asked more about the potential lumber business and the applications of the thorns. He would have wanted to know about that.

To hell with my engagement to Ariadne, my father would have been asking me if there was any way that I could have traded my awakening of the princess into a marriage to the Queen that she would become. After all, Queen trumps Countess.

Father would have been interested in the coronation and the fallout of what happened there, so that matched up. But he would also have been fascinated by what happened with the knights of the burning sword. He would have asked which nobleman's sons had been killed, why, which villages needed support and which ways could that all be taken advantage of. He would have done his best to support the former stockpile of knowledge of Pula, Saffron and Sally. He would have wanted to preserve it, catalogue it and then charge admission. At the very least, it would have been housed in a big, fancy building with a small, tasteful, discrete plaque that would have read "Paid for by the Lords and Ladies Coulthard of Redania".

There is more.

The man I spoke to wanted to know about the cult and the practices of the cult of the firstborn. Not once did he ask about who it was that had been killed and lost. Not once did he ask if any of those parents that had lost sons could be taken advantage of. Which of his former enemies could he now destroy and get a leg up on?

Father would have asked which road was the one that had led to the abandonment of Unicorn village. He would have been ecstatic to learn that Emma and myself had an in towards having the ear of Skelligan royalty. The benefits to Coulthard shipping alone would have paid for all my adventuring for years.

He would have been interested in the Skeleton Ship. He would probably have known more about it than I did given the impact that such an occurrence would naturally have on trade. But he would not have known to ask the questions that he did.

He would have been outraged about the interactions with the Goddess rather than having a thoughtful discussion on the politics of the thing. And he would have been fascinated with the goings on in Toussaint. He would have been as offended as the rest of us about the canonisation of Francesca, but then he would have sought to make a trade in that regard to get the Coulthards more into the wine business.

So on balance, I believe that the person or creature that I was speaking to was not my Father.

Even if it was Father, the questions that he asked, the points that he made, are worth considering.

But I don't think it was Father.

If it wasn't Father, then who was it?

I don't think that's important in this case. Not nearly so much as the conversation regarding the points that he made, or rather, the questions that he brought back to the fore.

Where there is one, there is always more. That's what he said. In fact, he repeated it.

But he also didn't tell me what that meant. So again, I think that it wasn't Father saying it. I think that the entity that told me that had an agenda, something to do or say. That they felt something or are otherwise constrained by some kind of rule. I know that things like Jack have rules so maybe, The Schattenmann had rules as well. But now I'm getting off track.

Where there is one, there is always more.

So there are more questions to ask. Questions that we have never answered.

Who was it that gave Edmund and his fellow conspirators the idea of killing Father?

Did Uncle Kalayn really jump onto the pyre out of madness and grief or was he pushed, and if he was pushed, who pushed him? And if he was pushed, why didn't he then climb off the fire?

Lots of questions about Uncle Kalayn I notice.

After that though?

There are a lot of questions about Phineas Tordril. A LOT of questions. Why did he talk at first and then bite his tongue off? Why was he found at all? He had avoided being caught for an awfully long time, why did he suddenly get caught now? He had been hunted since his name had come up in connection with the cult in the first place. He was the one that we are crediting with being the driving force behind the cult's magical capabilities anyway. So he was certainly a figure of interest to everyone, including the Imperial Intelligence services. So how come we suddenly find him?

I mean, there is an answer for that. Not a nice one but there is an answer. That being that he was laying low and then was caught in the attempt to leave the continent. But I'm not entirely sure I believe it. It seems clumsy. If he had a way to hide for all of that time, then surely he could have hidden for a bit longer. Or he could have made his way more stealthily. There are other ports than Novigrad and a man clever enough to evade capture for so long would not have allowed himself to be captured so easily.

.

Also, Father/Schattenmann made some interesting comments about Francesca's disappearance. She disappeared in the middle of everything and there is a good point to be made here. We have always assumed that what was done, the pretence of Jack and the abduction of Francesca was the act of some magic that we didn't understand at the time.

Some kind of advanced nonsense that made no sense and then…

But what if it wasn't?

Making that poor old tutor into Jack might have taken some doing. But the rest of it, the abduction? That didn't necessarily mean that we could…

In our arrogance and the arrogance of the people looking for her, did we dismiss the really simple things because it was so simple? We were all being so very clever and as such, we missed something so painfully stupid. Might that have been it?

I feel like I'm on the edge of a chasm and on the verge of throwing myself off. That would not do me any good, nor would it do any of my friends and loved ones any good and it might destroy any chance of a happy marriage that I might have with Ariadne away.

Time to take a step back.

Entry 71

I went back to Oxenfurt and worked hard for a few days. But those questions that were prompted have not gone away.

I cannot do anything about the disappearance of Francesca. That ship has sailed and is far far away as well as being a quagmire of things that would leave me wounded and possibly injured.

I was astonished, and a little bit disturbed, as to how easily I was able to make that choice.

But there are some questions here that I think need answers. Questions that are relevant to the modern day and might be relevant to the safety of myself and the people that I care about. My family, my friends, Ariadne.

Question 1

Who gave the idea to Edmund about killing Father, the method and the impetus to do it in the first place?

Question 2

What happened to Uncle Kalayn?

Question 3

What was going on with Phineas?

All three questions are cold, even the things with Phineas are several months old at best whereas the other two are several years old.

And I don't know if I'm talking myself back into madness and foolishness. I think that there are questions here that need answering. But I am also aware that I have made myself mad with this kind of questioning before. So where can I get an objective view of my own sanity?

I am going home again. The lecture regarding the attacks on the Witchers is in a few days and has, to be honest, been written for some time. All I need to do is to turn up and deliver it.

Entry 72

A poet once said that the hardest audience that a poet ever has to perform to is their friends and their family. Friends because they remember when you sucked and your family because they remember wiping your arse when you were little.

Today I stood in front of Emma, Mark, Ariadne and Laurelen. I gave them all my fully transcribed and annotated version of the conversation that I had with The Schattenmann. I talked them through my reasoning as to why I think it was The Schattenmann himself and not our Father that I spoke to.

Mark, Laurelen and Ariadne agreed with my reasoning and I think that Emma sees it too even while she wants it to go the other way.

I sympathise with her. I want it to be my Father as well but I think that the best that can be said about it all was that if my Father was there, then he was, at least in part, a puppet of The Schattenmann.

Then I pointed out the three questions that I had. The three questions that had never been answered and I explained why I was so nervous about them.

Where there is one, there is always more.

Emma asked what that meant.

"We have always assumed that with the destruction of Edmund's and Cousin Kalayn's cell of this cult or whatever version of it it was, we have always assumed that it was the only cell that there was. We have also assumed that we got everyone and that there weren't any people that got away."

Emma still flinches at Edmund's name.

"The questioners were thorough," Mark argued, more from an urge to act as the frosty advocate, I think.

"They weren't though were they?" I argued. "The cultist's families and friends were kicking up a stink. How long before one or two of them were going to be ordered to be released? It wouldn't have been too much longer."

Mark tugged at his bottom lip in thought. He was having a good day today for which I am grateful.

"The mob did what they did because they knew that those fuckers were going to get away with it if something wasn't done straight away. So although we got a lot of questions asked and answered, we didn't get everything. And we also don't know what kind of pressure was put on the questioners themselves."

Mark nodded.

"In my experience, the questioners would not have allowed themselves to be pressured," Laurelen said a little bitterly.

"The comparison is unfair," Mark said.

For a second, Laurelen looked outraged but Mark noticed before anything could go wrong.

"Sorry," he said. "But the situations are different. The questioners and the Witch hunters were full of younger sons and people who were not clever enough to enter the priesthood. Men who didn't want to give up things like sex and alcohol. They hated the mages and the non-humans but when we threw those cultists to the questioning, the questioners from the Witchhunters as they were, would have possibly had a lot of sympathy for the people having the questions asked.

"And yes. We still employ a lot of those Witch-hunters. It would be a mistake to throw away tools that are still useful."

Laurelen frowned before nodding unhappily.

"The questioners were under a time constraint and possibly weren't inclined to go through everything," I said. "The cultists knew that and were arrogant. They knew that daddy was coming to save them so they had every reason to keep their mouths shut. So it is possible that we didn't get them all. It is possible that there are still cultists out there."

Mark looked unhappy, as did Laurelen.

"And it is possible," I went on, "That privilege did protect some…"

Emma held up her hands. "We take the point. What else could it have meant? Where there is one, there is always more?"

"I don't know. The first thought that I had was the more cells of the cult." I told them all. "But there could be more to it."

"Is that not enough?" Mark said.

"If you want me to exercise my paranoia," I told them. "Then I would say this as well. Someone gave Edmund the idea to kill Father. Who? It was the stupidest idea in the world. All that Edmund had to do was to wait. The money, rank and land and power were coming to Edmund anyway. The reason why we found all of this out, the reason why Mother killed him was that Edmund put a plot into motion to kill Father. If he hadn't bothered, then Edmund would still have been alive. There is a whole cascade of events that stem from that moment. That comes from that decision as to getting Edmund to try and kill Father.

"So who was being creatively stupid?"

"Or was someone being clever?" Emma saw my point.

"And if that's the case," I went on. "Are they still out there? And what are they trying to do?"

"Is it possible that that person was Phineas?" Emma wondered.

"It's possible," I said. "But why? And if he did then why didn't he… Was he being clever or stupid with that? If he was being clever, then why was he so easy to catch? This leaves us with another possibility.

"If there is one mage like Phineas, then why not more? Was there a cabal of little mages that couldn't get their power through proper means, getting it through… whatever contracts with those entities from outside our experience?"

Again, Emma held up a hand to forestall my onrush.

"How would we proceed?" She asked, and then she smiled. "You would not have come to us if you had not had some ideas. What is your plan?"

"The easiest thread to tug on is the second question," I told them. 'There are still people around that were involved in the mob that killed the cultists. I will go to them and ask some questions about what happened to Uncle Kalayn. Maybe then we can find out some more things about who was in the crowd, what else was going on and who was watching. Who was near Uncle Kalayn how did he look? What were his movements before and after?

"From that, I would hope that I can find some remaining cultists or their families. I might even be able to find some Phineas involvement.

"Failing all that, I shall go to Novigrad. Phineas was caught there and I shall ask the people involved there about the investigation leading up to his capture."

Mark's mouth twitched upwards. "Why come to us, Freddie?"

"What?"

"I love you my brother, but you have a habit of rushing off and…"

"I was tempted," I admitted. "But that would have left me back where I started. I don't know how I'm doing and I don't know how rational I am being. I think that these questions need answering as I think that there might be a threat out there. We are vulnerable at the moment. A significant wedding is coming up with a lot of important guests. We should be… I think we are vulnerable.

"I think I'm being rational," I went on, "but I also thought I was rational when I tried to break off my engagement to Ariadne after the Goddess was done with me.

"So I am bringing it to you. Check my thinking, and my reasons."

Laurelen sighed and nodded. "You want us to peer review your paranoia."

I laughed. Emma and Mark joined my laughter while Laurelen smiled.

"Pretty much," I admitted.

Ariadne stood.

"It does not sound unreasonable." She told me and the room. 'But I am far from being entirely objective myself. I want my man to be happy and to be able to think freely in the times to come. This will bother him and I want his head clear when the time comes. I will abide by the decision of the family though."

She came up to me and kissed me on the cheek. "However, the date is set and I intend to have my wedding night."

She had purred that line and a smoky, hooded look was in her eyes. A shot of lust shot up my spine. She saw it and grinned before winking and walking off leaving the four of us sitting there to watch as she walked away..

There was an extended pause before Laurelen took a deep breath.

"Just so we're clear." She began, turning to Emma, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I love you very much. But sometimes," she turned back to glance at the door that Ariadne had walked through. "Sometimes I envy your little brother. The things that I would do to that woman."

Emma laughed before nodding ruefully.

"I don't think that this is a matter for me." Laurelen said "I love you all but I think that the meat of this answer boils down to Freddie's welfare. From an outsider's perspective, I think that that is a damned if you do and damned if you don't kind of answer. If you tell him not to pursue this question then he will be frustrated and paranoid. But if you let him investigate the things that he wants to, he risks exposing himself to those things that have made him ill before. Frustration and paranoia are potential things in either instance.

"I also think that you have to consider the questions. What if Freddie doesn't find anything? But also, what if he does find something? Both things are possibilities and you might want to have a think about what happens in either case."

She then turned to me.

"And as for you. Remember that you have other responsibilities as well. Not just your lecture course on Witchers, but your other lectures, your other writing, your extensive correspondence and the fact that you are marrying a formidable woman. She might joke about it, but whatever happens now, that wedding cannot be delayed but by an act of the Empress. And the only things that would stop Ciri from coming here on that day at that time to watch the two of you getting married is the kind of cataclysmic circumstance that cannot be foreseen."

"Zerrikania invading," Mark suggested.

"Plague," Emma added.

"I was thinking about the next coming of the Eternal Frost." Laurelen retorted. "So if you suddenly decide that you want to just fuck off and leave everything. I would absolutely expect there to be a green flash of light and an angry Empress appearing in front of you before the entirety of the Lodge of Sorceresses turn up in order to teleport you back to your wedding chapel. Just saying."

With that she nodded to Mark, blew a kiss to Emma and left the room.

I was still too busy thinking about the image that she had conjured to do much to stop her.

Emma and Mark looked at each other, Mark was tugging on his lower lip in thought and I could feel the walls beginning to close in around me.

Mark took a breath and began to feel the weight of things on my shoulders.

"I think we should let him investigate." Mark declared.

"What?" It seemed that Emma was as surprised as I was. "I was kind of expecting you to go in the other direction with this."

Mark laughed and not for the first time since I have returned home, I felt a stab of pain in my heart. I am going to miss my elder brother. When he is being ill, he looks old, like an old man before his time. But then he will laugh or declare something forcefully and all of the years fall off him. I see the moral, powerful, passionate and intelligent young man that I love as my older brother. He is only a little over thirty and I think of all the good that is still in this world for Mark to do. I mourn the loss that is coming. Not just my loss but the world's loss.

The world will lose Cardinal Mark and gain Saint Mark whereas I will have lost my brother. I don't know how to feel about that yet.

"I will admit," he began, that I was tempted to go the other way with it. Indeed, I also kind of think that we should forbid it. But the last time that my instincts told me that we should forbid Freddie from investigating something to do with the family, I said no. I even tried to forbid it.

"There is a saying," He frowned. "I can't remember where I'm getting it from now. But you never give an order that you know is going to be disobeyed. Freddie was going to investigate our brother's death back then and I knew it.

"I am older now and I recognise that the reason I don't want Freddie to investigate is fear. It was fear then and it is fear now. Fear for Freddie, fear for the family but also fear for myself. Sometimes, ignorance is comforting. Not looking in the shadow, not examining my own health and it's failing, pretending that there is nothing there when there really is something there… That is why I am now dying rather than… well… I don't really know what I would be doing otherwise."

He sighed and rubbed his head.

"It is that fear that holds me back. I don't want to look. I don't want to know. I don't want to think that there might be other cults out there, that we might have missed something. I don't want to think that all my nightmares might be true."

He grinned.

"I also think that we need to trust Freddie's instincts. He had an instinct that something was wrong last time and he was right."

"I also thought that I was the right person to hunt for Francesca's… assailants." I argued, suddenly wanting to take the opposite view.

Mark smiled, a little sadly.

"But you were right Freddie, you were right. He stood up. I think you should look. You might find nothing. I hope you find nothing. But if you do find something. Promise me you won't rush into it alone. You have friends and powerful allies. Remember that would you? Your Witcher is far away and cannot haul you out of danger at a moment's notice, no matter how hard you want him to."

I nodded my agreement.

He nodded to Emma who looked as though she had bitten a lemon.

"Then I will leave the two of you to your argument." Mark said with a little relish. "Some of us have work to do."

He grinned and left.

Emma and I stared at each other for a long moment.

"Dammit," She grinned. "I kind of expected to be the one arguing for your side."

I laughed with her in relief. I had been dreading a fight with her.

"You take Carys with you everywhere you go." She told me, raising a finger in warning. "Everywhere Freddie. No private conversations in sinister darkened rooms and no dodging her. She is there for your protection, including protecting you from yourself."

I nodded my agreement.

"You also keep us apprised of where you are going. Let us know where you are. I expect a messenger, every day, with where you are going and what your plans are for the day. If you go missing because some cultist mugs you, I want to know where Rickard is going to start looking, straight away Freddie."

I nodded my agreement again.

"And finally, you do not shirk your other duties." She told me. "You cancel no lectures, no wedding meetings, no student work for this. And…" I nodded along to confirm what she was saying. I had been intending all of that anyway. "And… you will be here when Mother arrives. Mother and all of our other guests. I will need your support, especially with Mother. I want to be able to message you for when other people arrive. Which is another reason why I want you to keep us apprised of where you are. Am I clear?"

I nodded.

"Oh Freddie." She got up and hugged me. "You were so terrified of this meeting weren't you?"

I could not deny it and sobbed in relief.

Entry 73

After all of the energy that comes with permission to set out and start investigating things. This morning, I woke up with a stinking headache and a rolling stomach. Castle Surgeon is of the opinion that I have "overdone it" and that I need to rest. What a useless prognosis! What is "Overdone it?" How much is that? How much is too much? At what point have I "Overdone" it? And when can I stop in advance?

I haven't got time for this kind of bullshit. I have things to do.

Writing makes my head ache and my eyes hurt.

Entry 74

Apparently, I am the worst patient in the history of the world. I think that's a bit extreme. I mean the world has several thousand years' worth of history. Surely in all that time, there must have been someone who was worse at staying in bed and resting than me. I mean, I only took a short walk in the sunshine before I vomited.

And yes, I was trying to read a book and…

Oh, dear.

Entry 75

Feeling a bit better today. At that point of being ill where I'm bored and just want it to be over. But keeping my journal isn't helping.

The last chapter of the tales of The Black Forest is being published today.

Entry 76

Feeling better. Time to head back to Oxenfurt. I have a lecture to prepare for and some more letters to write. Enquiries to make and appointments to book.

Had a long talk with Carys today. And by a long talk, I mean that it was long for the pair of us. She is not happy with being permanently assigned to being my babysitter. But then I told her what we would be doing and she grinned that nasty feral grin that she gets when she's contemplating murdering someone.

Sometimes I find myself envying Padraig, but other times, I find myself thinking that I am better off without knowing what he knows.

Entry 77

Got back yesterday and have spent most of my time answering mail and fending off angry students that want to know why I have graded their work the way that I have.

I was surprised though. I was expecting people to be really angry about that last chapter. The lack of closure regarding what had happened was frustrating for me let alone for other people. But I was surprised as to how many people like it.

I have more reports about what is going on down in the South. A worrying amount of people are trying to get into the Black Forest. People trying to find the settlements of dryads in the stereotypical image of the legion of willing women. I don't like that. One of the few cases where I would be more than happy for those people following my footsteps to reap the results of their own stupidity.

Have to give a lecture tomorrow on the effects that monsters have had on history. Things where the unexpected appearance of this creature or that monster has changed the course of nations. There's more of it than people would think. The arrival of the Hippogriff that diverted the invasion of Kaedwen. The beast attack that injured the king of Cintra. Which created the situation that led to formation of the first child surprise of Cintra that made Pavetta, which in turn led to the birth of Ciri.

There's more of it than people think about.

I feel strange. Once again, I feel as though I have had an injection of energy. As though I have had a weight lifted off me and that I can now get back to work. It is a strange feeling, not at all unpleasant. I am enjoying myself again.

Entry 78

The lecture went well, lots of questions that people are asking and giving me things that I can follow up with. I can send people away to look things up in their own time, sparking debates amongst groups. I am… happy. The first answers to my first letters have started to come back.

Next lecture tomorrow and then it will be time to get to work I think

Entry 79

I am tempted to annotate those entries that are to do with my investigation. This is the first one of those.

I mean, not really, but also…

He no longer lives where I had expected him to live.

He lives in the country now. A few hours' gentle ride south of Oxenfurt by the road. I followed the directions that I had been given to where the road goes into some deep woodland. Huge trees, growing on either side of the road and I eventually found his house by following his neatly written, extremely precise instructions.

Close enough to Oxenfurt to make an effort, but far enough to make excuses.

Nor was it entirely lost on me that he was not living on Coulthard lands.

It was a nice house really, It reminded me of the house that the old knight had retired to in Toussaint. Words like 'quaint' and 'picturesque' start to come to mind.

I've never known what the difference is between a house and a cottage but this one seemed to be on the 'cottage' side of the line. It was surrounded by a large wooden fence, whitewashed walls and a thatched roof. There was also an old shed that was a cross between a stable for a couple of old riding horses as well as a storage shed for tools and seeds that were being used in a vegetable patch.

There were chickens in the yard and a large, buxom woman that I rather thought I recognised from one situation or another was sweeping out the yard.

There were flowerbeds on the windows.

The woman glared at me as Carys and I rode up but she waved us in and directed us to tie our horses up near the water trough and the hay rick. Carys smiled at me knowingly and offered to do some small chores around the cottage that the woman might need help with.

It was when I heard the voice of the woman that I recognised her. She had once been a brothel madam in Oxenfurt. How she had ended up meeting the older watch captain of Oxenfurt was probably not a mystery, but that the two of them would end up moving out to the countryside was a bit of a surprise.

Carys took charge of the horses, picked up a shovel and started gamely shovelling shit to the bemusement of the woman who glared at me.

"He's round the back." She told me. I nodded, saying nothing and went off in the direction that she gestured.

"Don't take him back into the game." She told my retreating back. I turned back to look at her and she had a horrible expression, part pleading, part longing… part hatred.

I hardened my heart.

"If he can save lives." I told her, "or can prevent…"

She held her hands up. "I know, I know. But he's… He's been doing so well."

I nodded, "I still have nightmares too." I told her. "And I want to prevent other people from having the same nightmares."

She took a deep breath before turning away to shout at Carys about her doing something wrong.

I walked around the side of the cottage to find an extensive vegetable garden and further back from the house, as well as a wooden privy, was a gardening shed. Wooden, with a window on one side. There was an iron bowl in front of it, the kind that they set out in towns to provide heat and light on the walls, in front of the little shed with a wood fire set in it. To my eyes, there were weeds, old flowers and other pieces of gardening debris burning in the fire. Over the fire was a large metal pot hanging from a tripod.

Sitting nearby was the old captain of the Watch that specialised in solving the mysteries that came with the job. Not the Commander of the Watch, he had refused that position because he had known that he would have been terrible at it. In his words, he would have been unable to keep his nose out of the normal business of the rest of the world.

I had lied about his name when I talked about him in the articles about my family to keep his identity secret. I had also lied about the fact that he was retired at the time. He was not retired. Men like this rarely get away clean but now it seemed that he had come some of the way towards that goal.

He looked good. He was thinner than he had been the last time that I had seen him but somehow, less gaunt. I supposed that the prospect of properly cooked meals with actual vegetables in them rather than a diet of street food and a quick beer to help him sleep.

He had left the watch a couple of months after the mob violence in the wake of the unearthing of the cult violence. He had tried to go back to work after that and had caught a man beating his wife on the street. According to the reports that Emma had given me, it had taken four of his fellow guardsmen to pull the captain off his victim. There had been a trial where numerous people had talked about the service that the Captain had given the city and….

I can't help it. It's like I'm still writing for the magazine. I'm not doing that anymore. I am writing to help my own memory should I need to look back on it.

His hair is now more grey than dark and his moustache is as bristly as ever.

"Morning Cap'n," I said.

He looked as though he had been dozing as he opened one eye to look at me.

"Cheeky sod" he declared before gesturing to the seat next to him. I took my spear bag from my back and propped it next to the chair before I carefully lowered myself into the rickety-looking wooden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable.

"Could you do me a favour?" He asked me after a moment.

I grinned,

"It depends on the favour."

He laughed. "Getting wiser in your old age." He told me. "There would have been a time when I would have asked that and you would have told me that you would do anything."

"Older," I suggested. "Wiser. Seen more."

"Ain't that the truth," he told me. He pulled out his pipe from a pocket before he started tapping down his various pockets and pouches looking for his tobacco. I don't know why he doesn't keep it in the same place but he always seems to lose his tobacco pouch and then needs to look for it.

"What do you need?" I asked him.

"Could you carry my best wishes to your sister? She has done a lot to help."

"We owe you."

"No, you didn't."

"Then of course I will."

"Good luck on your marriage as well." He said. "I won't be attending of course."

"Of course."

"I will be out of place. I will be offending people left right and centre."

"A few people want to meet you. I know that Kerrass especially… And the head of Imperial Intelligence has expressed…"

"No, they haven't." He accused. "And you hate the head of Imperial intelligence."

"Hate is a strong word," I replied. "He is a difficult man to like, a man like Lord Voorhis. I don't like the way he thinks and I don't like what you would have to do to be like that. Looking at the entire world as though it's a threat and having to think of every single thing that way. It's not… It's not something that I want to comprehend and he seems to relish it."

"There is a price to thinking like that." He agreed. "It wears on a man after a while. Always looking at the world as though it's some kind of puzzle. Aha!" He had found his tobacco pouch. "He will have to pay it sooner or later."

He started filling his pipe and the conversation died.

"The Empress wants to meet you." I tried.

"No she doesn't." he told me without looking up. "The Empress doesn't even know my name."

"You might be surprised."

There was a pause as he fished a long, burning twig from the fire and lit his pipe.

"How have you been?" I wondered.

"I like it out here." He told me. "I like to sit out here and smell the smoke of the wood and the other plants that I burn. I like to just sit here and listen to the wind in the trees. Clea and I still ride back into town when we need a slice of culture or a meal that isn't made by one of us."

"She can't cook?" I wondered.

"Actually, she's a very good cook. But I can't and occasionally she needs some time off. People in town still remember me though and it's rare that I pay full price for everything,"

We sniggered at that last bit and we sat quietly. He was right, it was very peaceful.

"We get travellers occasionally." He said. "There's a group of Elves nearby that are struggling to understand that they've won. They still think that they're fighting the good fight by slowly starving to death in the trees. I try to tell them to go to your sister and she will find them work, or go to any number of places and they will be looked after but they won't hear of it."

He shook his head sadly.

"We feed them when they let us or in the middle of winter. It's been a while though."

"Summer," I said. "They can probably live quite well off the land."

"Probably," he said before sighing. "What is it you want Lord Coulthard? Your letter said it was important."

"I'm not Lord Coulthard." I protested.

"Fuck off." He said. "You're being young and foolish again. I guarantee you that when people think of "Lord and Lady Coulthard, they think of you and your sister."

"Mark is…"

"A man of the church and hardly puts the name around. And as for the other one. He's off in the north now, doesn't care about the folk back home anymore does he?"

"Sam is a good man."

"You would know that more than I. But he's not here is he? He doesn't even use the name. He's Lord Kalayn now isn't he."

I nodded.

"So I'm afraid. People are going to be calling you Lord Coulthard, long after you're Count Angral."

"My fiance definitely wants to meet you."

"It might be racist of me, in fact, it is definitely racist of me, but I struggle with the Vampire bit. Elves are all pointy-eared fuckers, dwarves are short, hairy and smelly and halflings are… pretty similar to dwarves. So I know them and get them and understand them. But there was this time where there was a vampire that was hunting drunk people in town and then… I don't think I could…"

I remember the case. Apparently, the beast was hunted and destroyed by Lord Geralt towards the end of the war. It was an Echidna if I remember correctly.

"She's not that type of Vampire." I told him.

"I know that." He said, pointing at his head. "But I don't know that." He patted his chest. I can be racist towards Elves, even while I know it's wrong but a Vampire?"

He shuddered.

The conversation lapsed again.

"What's going on Lord Coulthard? Your letter said it was urgent but you've been dancing around the subject like a fucking knife-ear."

It would have been more offensive if it hadn't been for the earlier comment about feeding the Elves in the woods. And if I hadn't heard the same man insulting humans and defending those Elves from the race mobs and the Witchhunter pogroms.

"I think we might have missed something," I told him. I didn't need to tell him what we might have missed.

He glared at me.

"Of course we missed something. We always miss something. There are always loose ends, always things we miss, weak elements to every case and… We always miss something. That's how it works. We do our best, we catch as much as we can and then we move on to the next thing."

"I know," I told him. He got up and went to his shed where he came out with a couple of wooden cups.

"I know that," I said again. "I do. But…"

"But this one got under your skin." He told me, taking a ladle and dipping it into the pot before he poured into the cup and handed it over.

I tasted it. There was alcohol there, herbs and fruit as well. It was strange and not at all bad.

"The ones involving family often do," he told me. "This is about what that… Shittenman said isn't it?"

"It's pronounced Schattenmann."

"Look at you with your fancy words. That's what I said."

"It wasn't… Hold on, you read my articles?"

"Of course I do. When I worked for the city we had to keep a track of who read and published what. Nowadays I read it because I like to keep abreast of what is happening."

"Huh. But yes. The Schattenmann has got me a bit worked up."

"You should let it go," he told me. "You're about to be married to a beautiful woman and move away. Let it go."

"I probably should." I agreed.

"But…" We said together.

I laughed, he didn't.

"What do you want to know?" He asked. "What's the question that…"

"Where there is one, there is always more," I told him. "I need to know if there is another cell of that damned cult in the local area. If Edm… If my brother and our cousin were operating one, then there were more. And more than that… Who was it that ordered the death of my father? Who gave the instructions, who decided it and who came up with the plan to do it?"

He sat listening, tugging at his moustache, the same way that he had back when he was a chief investigator of the Oxenfurt city Watch. The same man that had told us about those cases that had been lost or dismissed back when Kerrass and I were still investigating.

"And who pushed the former Lord Kalayn onto the same fire that killed his son?" I finished.

"You are so sure he didn't jump?" He looked at me sideways.

'No," I declared, "he didn't jump. He was a raging narcissist. Bred to be convinced that he was the most important thing in the world. There is no way that he would have killed himself with the death of his son. He would have served his wife again and got him another son. Or as is more likely having met the woman myself, he would have found himself something young, pretty and impressionable to get the job done and then he would have married the woman that produced him a son."

The former investigator grunted at that, staring into space.

"It did seem strange to me, what we knew of the man." he agreed after a while. "Especially as we knew that there was no real love lost between the two. I remember Count Kalayn as being an angry man. Angry at us for daring to lay a hand on his son and for daring to suggest that what they were doing was anything wrong. He told us things like 'I will deal with the boy when we get him home and 'this is none of your concern.' He was that kind of asshat."

"It was him then?" I wondered.

"What?" The old detective shook himself. "Oh yes, there was a family resemblance that it would be hard to get wrong. He was the Father. You have visions that the Father, Count Kalayn, is hiding somewhere?"

"The thought had occurred," I admitted.

"No, he went on the flames. He didn't even scream."

I nodded.

"What do you remember of that night?"

He seemed to age before my eyes. "It was a night that one. You've done well to keep it all under your hat what we did that night. I know that that Witcher friend of yours told us all that we were killing monsters, but that doesn't make it any easier. We murdered those men that night."

"No," I said. "I won't even say that we butchered animals because that would be an insult to animals. Animals provide milk, wool, leather and all kinds of other useful things. I won't even say that we executed criminals that night because I've also met some quite respectable criminals over the years. One of them, your own story, came forward with information about these fuckheads.

"I don't know what the correct term is for what we did," I told him. "But I know that you murder men, you murder people. They weren't men. They weren't people. They were…" I shook my head. "I have felt worse about killing bandits in self-defence. I have felt worse after destroying the spirits of departed assholes and magical monsters that I had nothing to do with and weren't alive in the first place.

"My biggest concern for that night was that there would be repercussions that would fall on your head or the men under your command. I slept fine that night. I would have slept considerably worse if they had been allowed to go out into the world to continue their sick rites elsewhere. And failing all else, remember that although Mark was not there, having spat his dummy out a little bit beforehand and had left, there were still enough priests and the like around who were telling us that we were doing the work of the Holy Flame. I saw what was in that wagon that they had with them the night that we caught them. We were not in the wrong."

I took a deep breath, surprised by my vehemence.

"Do you feel badly about what we did?" I wondered.

"No." He admitted. "But I feel badly that we had to do it."

"That we can agree on," I said with some vehemence.

"And just because it was the right thing to do." he went on, "does not change the fact that we murdered those men. I was a Watchman first and my duty is to uphold the law."

"This is an old debate," I told him. "Your first duty is to keep the peace and that is what you were doing that night."

"I remember." He replied, taking a deep breath. "Yes, I remember. I remember it was becoming clear that powerful men were coming to take our prisoners away. Men like your uncle had gone to court and were offering bribes to the Queen Regent. Making promises to her to support her in whatever nonsense that she wanted to be supported in and then…"

He shook his head.

"It didn't matter how much proof we had." I prompted. "It didn't matter how many of them had confessed. It didn't matter how many of them were actually proud of what they had done."

He nodded.

"The mob was growing. The church, the local magistrates, the mob, and even the closest feudal representatives agreed. The warrant for their release was coming south from Ard Carraigh. We needed to act."

He sighed and knocked the ash out of the bowl.

"We had already given them the trials. They were already guilty in the eyes of the Flame and of man. Lord Kalayn and his cronies and friends. They were all in the city, waiting smugly for us to bow before their authority. I remembered his stupid smug face."

"So do I." I said. "It was a very punchable face. For all that he was my mother's brother. I saw no similarities between the two."

"Did you not?" The old man said. "I saw them. But we left the cells open and the mob came for them. A mob interspersed with guardsmen, church soldiers, Sir Rickard's bastards and others. And we took them out and burnt them."

"What happened with Lord Kalayn?"

"He was there." He told me, refilling his pipe. As I say, he was watching the entire thing, with this kind of smug expression on his face. I hated him for that expression just as I hate all those noble bastards that think a title gives them more authority to do this, or that or the next thing to their fellow man. I hate that. I hate that an accident of birth makes you more of a human than the next guy.

I remember that he didn't seem to get on with his son very much. His son was relieved but also disgusted by the sight of his Father. We had to let the parents in to see the sons and I remember that he insisted that we wait outside."

"Didn't stop you from listening at the door did it?" I commented and he smirked.

"No," he admitted, "No, it did not. The boy was relieved to see his father. Even while he was then furious that it had come to this. He didn't want to be rescued by his old man. Boys and their fathers," he sighed and shook his head.

"I remembered their conversation. The boy, your cousin, protested. He told his father about how you were weak, how you had cheated and about how you weren't strong enough to do what needed to be done.

"Lord Kalayn told your cousin to shut up. That if you were weak, then why was his son so easily captured? Your cousin didn't like that. He told his Father that he was on the verge of something. He had made contact with something powerful. Something that was going to secure his future and that if he had just had a bit more time then he would have been able to…

"The Father struck the boy I think. He told his son that his place was not to think. That his place was to do as he was instructed. The boy called his father weak and lacking in proper piety and devotion. That if he had devoted himself to…

"The Father cut him off. He told his son that the level of devotion that his son was talking about was what had resulted in them all being caught in the first place. He said that that level of piety would attract the attention that they did not want. That the stupidity and conviction were for other men. That the Kalayn family needed to be careful because they were too exposed. Doubly so now.

"The boy was unhappy. The Father demanded to know why they had killed Lord Coulthard, your Father. The boy told him about the fact that Edmund's inheritance was in jeopardy and that the matter needed to be expedited. Lord Kalayn told them off for being sloppy which I was surprised at as I thought that the murder of your Father was quite a good plan all things considered. The weakness that they hadn't taken into account was your Mother's intelligence and the presence of that Witcher of yours.

"Lord Kalayn told him that if they had wanted someone like Lord Coulthard dead, they would have been better off simply hiring a hitman on the grounds that any number of people wanted Lord Coulthard dead. So there would have been any number of motives for figuring out who it was that had done the deed before they came to Edmund. Lord Kalayn asked who's plan it was to do it that way and your Cousin was forced to admit that he had no idea.

"His father called him some names and it got a bit bleak after that for a while. But your Cousin stuck to his guns, insisting that he had no idea who had told Edmund to do the deed. If anything, I would suggest that Lord Kalayn knew your older brother well enough to be able to declare what you already know, that being that Edmund wasn't clever enough to come up with the scheme to kill Lord Coulthard.

"Then Lord Kalayn demanded to know who had killed Edmund. It wasn't common knowledge yet that it was your mother. Your cousin insisted that it wasn't him and that they didn't know who it was."

"What happened then?" I wondered.

"Hmm?" I had disturbed him from a train of thought. I had to be careful about that. It was far too easy for a man like this to be lost down a passage of thought and then I needed to distract him. "Not much. They argued a bit. Lord Kalayn was insistent that his son know who it was that had killed Edmund and who had been foolish enough to give Edmund the idea to kill your Father. But after all that, it was an impasse. The Father told his son that it would all be over soon, that a considerable amount of money had exchanged hands and that he, your cousin, would soon be released and that was that."

"What happened with Lord Kalayn on the night?"

The old man sighed and took a deep breath before clamping the pipe between his teeth. Clamped it hard enough to let me hear the wood groaning.

"The decision was made to do the deed. The prisoners were being moved and were protesting loudly. Lord Kalayn was staying in town and word got to him fairly quickly. That wasn't a surprise but still. He joined the mob but he hadn't paid for the best protection for himself. He had two men with him and they fought their way through the crowd.

"It was dark already, we had waited that long anyway. There was a lot of smoke and the priests had got their old questioning gear out. The Witchhunters had done the same. There is still enough fear in the countryside that men do not want to go up against a Witchunter or a questioner and most people stayed back from all of that. I was busy. I was looking after the entirety of the crowd so I didn't see much.

"I remember hearing the shout when Kalayn went onto the fire though. The fires were pretty well guarded all things considered and there were multiple people per fire, multiple victims I mean. The priests told us that this would be for the best and I was not going to argue. After all, those fucks had experience in those matters didn't they.

"Bastards.

"When he went on the fire, it took him some time to catch, he thrashed about a bit but other than that, he seemed to die quickly for all of that."

I nodded.

"Can you give me the names of the guards on that fire?" I wondered.

"Ummm, it was Baxter, Jannes, Ferick and…. Tall fellow with a drooping moustache. Traiser. That was the fucker, could never say no to a drink."

"Are they still with the guard?"

"I have no idea." He told me with relish, and I care even less."

"Did anyone examine the body afterwards?" I wondered.

"You thinking that he was dead before he hit the fire?"

"The thought had occurred."

"It did to me too." The old man admitted. "It was burnt to a crisp. His clothing caught and the stupid fucker was wearing mail. He would have baked fairly quickly and there was little left to comment. We only knew who it was through witnesses."

"Which witnesses?"

"Those guards I was telling you about."

"Where did he stay in the city? Kalayn, I mean?"

"At the time it was the Flame and Rose. The old one that was run by the squire of one of the old Knights of the white rose before it became the burning rose."

"The one that's a brothel now?"

"Yeah," the old man laughed. "I imagine that the old man would have hated that."

"That's what you get for insisting on propriety in your inn. You go out of business."

We laughed.

"Who do you think it was that gave Edmund the idea to kill Father?"

"I have no idea. I really don't and it's the kind of thing that… is not as important as the person that did the deed. Somebody gave your brother the deed. I would even suggest…"

The old man paused and tilted his head to one side. As visual a clue that thought had just occurred to him as ever I have seen.

"I would even suggest that he had an accomplice. I read your articles with great interest. Your brother was a lech, a drunk and an addict of the worst kind. It would be polite to call him a hedonist. I've known some perfectly good hedonists in my time and your brother was not one of those. But his hands shook and some of the things that you talk about in your articles require careful thought and precision. Your brother's hands shook. It would not have taken long before some duelist would have known and then your brother's days were over."

He shook his head, partially in disgust but also partially as though he was shaking a thought loose.

"It's possible." He said. "It is possible that he had an accomplice in your castle. Some guard or someone who could do more finicky work. Not even with evil intent, someone that he could have promised a fortune to and… oh dammit all."

A small tear spilt out of the corner of his eyes as he turned to me and put his hand on my arm.

"Don't become like me. Look at me, an old man, a professional suspicious bastard that can't stop seeing enemies around every corner. An old, paranoid racist that has to…"

"That's enough," I told him firmly. You served your city and you saved many lives by being a suspicious bastard. You were one of the few that I ever met that didn't care what shape the person's ears were and you defended them as often as you arrested them. You were one of the good ones and I won't let you tell yourself that you weren't."

He subsided and stared into his little fire for a while.

"I still can't help it." He told me. "Just… every so often, I wish I had done something different with my life you know?"

"I do know," I told him. "I do. But then I remember the lives that I have helped to save. I remember the friends that I have made and the woman that I would not have met if I had stayed at home, or done what my father had told me and married some lord's daughter for an alliance."

He grinned.

"Some of those noblemen's daughters are quite attractive." He leered. "You know, for the stuck-up little snots that they are."

"And the ones that are attractive would not have looked at me twice without an older name and a thicker bank account."

"I bet you could get some of them now."

"I could, but only because I went out into the world and did what I did."

I took a deep breath, the old man seemed to be doing a little better now so I steered the conversation back to where I wanted it to go.

"So who was it that told Edmund to kill Father and how to get the job done?"

"Let's be honest young lord, it could have been anyone. It could have been some idiot that he met down the pub in the evening. It could have been some other conspirator or it could have been his accomplice. All the way up to some heretofore unknown private advisor. I don't think you are going to find an explanation there by asking who. You need to think about "why". Because of that move, killing your father and using that method over randomly having him poisoned in town or stabbed in the street. It was either a work of genius or a work of utter stupidity. That is the place that I would be looking, if I was where you are now."

That was a good thought. Certainly a better thought than the possibility that he might have had some accomplice that we had never found. I mean, I know that we have all but replaced the guard from back in those days and the new Stablemaster has exerted his authority in many ways. But…

I was here for other questions. I could take these thoughts away and come back with them later.

"So are there any other cult cells out there?" I wondered. "Were Cousin Kalayn and the rest the only ones out there or was this multiple and…"

He looked at me out of the side of his eyes in such a way that I actually felt a little bit ashamed of the question and I could not have told you why.

"The simple fact of the matter is that there is always evil out there. There are always men like your brother and your cousin that want to do sick things to people more vulnerable than themselves and their justifications for doing it essentially boil down to the fact that they think that life owes them their… whatever. Occasionally they introduce shit like whatever it was that your brother was worshipping to get themselves off. But there are always people like that.

"I didn't stay in the guard long after that night. It made me feel a bit like a hypocrite. But I do remember some other people who did similar things. They mostly turned out to be copycats though. People that were jealous of all of the things that your brother and cousin managed to get away with and wanted to try their hands at it themselves. I'm sorry to say that some of those people got away. Some of those people were arrested and then mummy and daddy bought their way back into favour with the Queen Regent in Redania or the Queen's council in Temeria. And some we were able to throw to the penal barges or the headsman.

"Were there other cells? Probably. After all, didn't you find out that this was essentially a breakaway faction from all of that "cult of the first-born" nonsense that was going on in the North?"

"It was," I said. "Cousin Kalayn was either a true believer and thought that more debauchery would mean bigger and better rewards. Or he found a new flavour of supernatural horror to follow through on. It could have gone either way, to be honest, and we were never really able to find out why because everyone involved is now dead or gone to places that we can't follow. So there might have been other cells?"

"There might have been, there might currently be? There might be going to be? Your Imperial intelligence buddies will be able to tell you more about that kind of thing I suppose."

I must have grimaced because he looked at me with a sly smile.

"Not what you wanted to hear?"

"No," I admitted.

"It never is. There are always people out there. Some people have always wanted to do horrible things and then one day, they can't bear not to do it anymore. And other times, people don't care. They look at this peasant girl or that sex worker and see them as being less than human. And then…"

I nodded. He was right of course. Time for me to go. I climbed to my feet.

"Thank you for your help."

He held his hand out, even while he didn't get up. "Are you going to be ok Lord Frederick?" He asked me as I shook the offered hand.

"You've never called me Lord Frederick before."

"Yeah, I'm trying out. See what I think of it."

"And?"

"I don't care for it."

I left to find that Carys had made permanent friends with the older woman, swearing an eternal sisterhood based on the fact that all of the men in their lives are terminally stupid.

They might not be wrong.

I rode back to Oxenfurt with a heavy heart.

Entry 80

I gave a poor lecture on the habits and growing intelligence of Nekkers. Someone suggested that I was arguing that we should spare Nekkers before telling me that what they were were crude and disgusting creatures lacking in all empathy and grace. I got several angry looks when I pointed out that it was more than likely that the Elves and once said pretty much the same thing about us.

I left in a bit of a temper and I do not think I was alone.

But I had a good lunch and answered a few letters before I decided that I was being too passive. I wrote to the current watch commander about the whereabouts of the four guards that the old investigator had mentioned and then I went to see if I could get into the room that Lord Kalayn had once stayed in.

I contacted Ariadne and asked if it was alright if I were seen to be hiring a prostitute. She seemed more comfortable with the thought that I just needed to get my end away than she was with the thought of the investigation. But she decided that she didn't care that much. She would tell people that I was refining my technique for our wedding night.

I went and hired the services of a tired-looking brunette who was grateful for the opportunity to just lie on the bed and nap while I searched the place. I didn't expect to find anything and in that, I was not disappointed. I left a small sum of money with the girl and told her to get some rest.

She laughed at me.

Entry 81

I have received word back regarding the guardsmen.

Ferrick had, at some point on the night of the bonfires where those cultists had burned, had managed to catch brother Sam's eyes and had been recruited by him to accompany Sam north into Kalayn lands. I will write to Sam to ask if Ferick is still with him and ask if the former guard could be brought south for me to ask him more questions.

I will need to work on that letter to not offend… anyone.

Baxter had been killed in the line of duty and his widow had moved away to be with her brother in Vizima. I did check but it was just one of those things that happen when you are a guardsman. Whatever else might have happened with Emma improving the docks on the waterfront, it meant that sailors were coming ashore and doing as sailors do which is drink, fuck and fight when they are ashore. The city guard has benefited from Emma's patronage and as a result, they are well equipped and well manned enough to deal with this kind of thing. But on that day, one of the brawlers had a knife and the guard had to take him down hard before he hurt anyone else.

Baxter had taken a scratch, little more than a scratch from the blade. He wrapped the scratch up himself, they brought in the brawler and he went home. Then infection had set in and the guard had died. Just one of those things. A warning for life, but he had been too insistent in dealing with the issue than having a small injury cleaned up.

It was being used as a warning story for recruits so that they didn't do the same thing.

I have appointments to speak to Jannes when he gets off shift and Traiser has left the guard to help out in his family's bakery.

Mother is arriving in a couple of days so I will need to head back to the castle. Luckily I will just have time to greet her before I have to turn around and come back to give the next Witcher lecture.

Entry 82

Jannes had little enough to tell me. He remembered the night fairly well. He had the Watchman's eye and memory for faces so he remembered Lord Kalayn being suitably insistent regarding obtaining his son's release. But on the night, the man had been cloaked and hooded. There was some conflict between the desire to be seen to be law-abiding and religion abiding in the face of witch-hunters and questioners. But also the desire to rescue the criminals from the pyres. So very many people were hooded and cloaked, including Lord Kalayn.

Jannes had certainly seen Lord Kalayn on the night. Given that his son and heir was apparently going to be on the bonfire then Lord Kalayn was one of the people that the attending guardsmen, who were all volunteers, had been warned would be attending.

Jannes was able to confirm that Lord Kalayn was there and was seen to be talking to several people who were all hooded and cloaked as well. That was not something of concern because everyone was hooded and cloaked that night. Including Kerrass, Sam and myself to be honest. So there was no way of telling what was happening and to whom. He was accompanied by a couple of other people that were also hooded and cloaked although they seemed to be acting as bodyguards so it was genuinely assumed that that's what they were.

Jannes joined everyone's astonishment that Kalayn would have killed himself. He didn't seem the type, lots of "Don't you know who I am" kind of things. "People obsessed with their own self-importance don't tend to kill themselves" was one of his lines.

I didn't get to speak to Traiser today as he was out at some other thing and I couldn't wait. Have to be at home when Mother arrives apparently.

I am not looking forward to this.

Entry 83

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that.

Mother arrived in the red habit and white wimple of a nun of the Eternal Flame. She travelled in the entourage of a priest that I have never met as well as another group of nuns who were travelling to Novigrad as part of a pilgrimage. According to Rickard, there were half a dozen or so of them and they walked past the path leading up to the castle and as they were doing so, one of them just kind of peeled off from the rest, waved to a couple of her friends and then just slung her pack over her shoulder before walking up the path.

We didn't know that she was arriving until she was almost at the gate.

I had arrived home late the previous day and had not been able to do much other than putting my things away and stealing something from the kitchens before collapsing into bed. The homecoming for me was made a little easier by the fact that Ariadne was there. She had decided that it was time to meet her future mother-in-law and wanted to discuss something with Laurelen and Dr Shani.

I didn't find out what, apparently something to do with "female things" and I fled shortly afterwards.

But I was up early, bathed in the new bathhouse structure that has been erected and then expanded to help with all of the coming guests. I had combed my hair, a remarkably useless routine, but Emma insisted and so, when the guard brought the news that Mother was at the gate, I was as prepared as I could be.

I had enough time to set my ink and quills aside properly and make my way to the front entrance of the keep where Emma and Ariadne were already waiting.

Mark was ill and unable to attend.

And then we saw her coming up and into the top courtyard, escorted by Rickard who was showing off. You can always tell when Rickard is showing off. Normally that's because he's wearing armour. He walked with military precision, helmet under his arm and his other arm was holding onto his sword hilt as he escorted mother to the front entrance where he saluted Emma before bowing to Mother and about facing before walking off.

Mother looked… She looks as though she is twenty years younger than she was the last time I saw her. She smiled as she saw us which was all but unheard of and she looked about herself with bright, happy eyes. If I didn't know who she was, I would not have recognised her.

I wondered if this was the woman that Father had fallen in love with.

She walked up to Emma and hugged her. They exchanged some quiet words which I didn't hear before she turned around and looked at the figure of Rickard who was now drilling some of the men that were nearby. The men were also showing off for the former lady of the castle.

"I like him." Mother gestured at Rickard. "If he had been in charge of the guard instead of old Froggart then I might have been tempted towards scandal."

Her eyes flashed mischievously.

I may have gaped.

"He's spoken for." Emma told her with a smile. "Hopelessly in love with our new family doctor. Or she is whenever the state and the university can spare her."

"Not that I would have." Mother went on. "I would never have done that to your Father. But I would have been tempted."

She came to stand in front of me and examined me.

"You've grown." She decided before stepping forward and hugging me.

It took me a moment of shock before I hugged her back.

"I am so very proud of you." She whispered in my ear. "So very proud. And every criticism that you have levelled at me, I deserve the lot. I hope that we will get a chance to talk soon." Then she pulled back leaving me feeling as though I had been fired from a catapult. In that, I felt as though I was flying, but there was bound to be a moment coming up where I impacted against something hard and was therefore splattered across the scenery.

I had enough sense to turn and introduce Mother to Ariadne.

"I have heard so much about you," Ariadne said with a polite smile. The one that she uses when she's trying to put someone at ease. Where her lips carefully hide her teeth to not put them off.

"Oh flame, have you?" Mother pretended to horror. "Well, I shall have to do something about that in the near future. Unfortunately, it is probably all true. But still."

She stood back and examined us all before her face fell a little.

"Mark and Sam?" She asked.

"Sam will be here a bit closer to the wedding," Emma said. Something in her voice must have triggered an instinct in mother as her eyes narrowed a little as she looked at her daughter before she sighed.

"Ah, Sam." She said a little sadly "And Mark?"

"Mark is in his rooms," I said automatically. Mother frowned in confusion before Ariadne spoke up.

"I have learned that this is family code for 'Mark is not very well today and is not up to receiving visitors'."

"I see." Mother's positive expression fell a little bit further before she brightened. "Then I shall see him later."

She turned back to Emma "I would like to bathe and get changed if I may. Where have you put me?"

"We are all in our old rooms," Emma said. "So you are in yours if that's alright? We can move things if you would prefer."

Mother sighed a little. "It'll be fine. Although given that I normally sleep in a nun's cell, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with all of that space. I am told that I am to reclaim the title of Dowager Baroness while I am here until a week after the wedding after little Freddie here…"

"Hey," I protested.

Mother didn't break stride while Emma smirked and Ariadne hid a smile behind her hand.

"But I don't want to get too used to the good life again. I want to keep things simple." Mother pinned us with her "Mother" stare.

"So if I can bathe, change and then I want to go and give thanks for the safe journey in the chapel?"

"We can have a bath run for you and we have a ladies maid chosen."

"Thank you. Although I don't need one. And then if you want to give me a tour and show me what's changed?"

Emma nodded, looking as bewildered as I felt before turning and leading mother off.

Ariadne came to me as I stood and watched her go.

"Freddie?" I turned to look at her.

"If you want me to hate her, then I will." She told me.

I shook my head quickly.

"Good. Because I like her. Not what I expected.

"Nor I," I admitted. I was more shaken than I realised and so Ariadne took me off somewhere quiet for a sit-down.

Entry 84

Oh Flame. Mother wants to come to one of my lectures.

Entry 85

The start of Mother's stay at the castle seems to have gone well. She spent that first day walking around with Emma, re-introducing herself to the staff that remembered her and getting to grips with all of the changes that have been made. She spent some time in the chapel and then some more time at Mark's side.

She spoke with Mark's doctors and asked some pointed questions that I would not have known to ask and would not have expected Mother to know to ask either. When I wondered about that she told me that nearly two years in the service of Mother Nenneke at a healing temple had expanded her mind considerably. She asked if Dr Shani would be attending dinner and was disappointed that the answer was no.

She spent the following day resting after the journey although I say "resting" she seemed fairly active to me. She spoke with Ariadne a bit and told the ancient Vampire off for trying to put Mother at ease by obscuring her Vampiric nature.

Ariadne didn't know what to make of that.

Mark was having a better day though and the two spent quite a bit of time talking.

They had a lot to talk about I suppose.

However, I want to head back to Oxenfurt. I had to spend a bit of time considering whether I wanted to go back to Oxenfurt because I wanted to go back to Oxenfurt. Or if I just wanted to get away from my mother. The short answer was that it could have gone either way in that regard.

Either way though, it didn't get me anywhere. Mother needs to come into town so that she can get some dresses. All of her old dresses are either ruined in storage or no longer fit. It seems that working in the fields of the abbey or working on the sick and the dying, as well as the different diet, has changed Mother's shape leaving her with muscles in certain areas and less weight in others.

I think she looks good for it but it does mean that she needs a frock or two. Not my words.

This means that she can come into town wearing a couple of dresses that are "not too bad" and pick up a small wardrobe worth of clothes so that later she can travel back to Novigrad to get a proper gown for the wedding. She wants to take Emma, Laurelen, Shani and Ariadne with her as an, I quote, "girls outing".

Rickard, Mark and I are terrified and fascinated in equal measure.

Rickard proposed that we all get drunk and get some dancing girls in to keep us company. Mark said that he might have a cup of ale but that he would leave the dancing girls to those more healthy than himself. Which, in turn, led me to tease him about what he got up to when he was feeling more healthy.

Entry 86

Today's the day that I travel back to Oxenfurt with my mother. To make matters worse, my mother seems to get on with Carys. I was looking forward to that meeting of minds but it seems that I am even losing out in that regard too. As I write this I am watching as Mother tries to remember how to ride side-saddle.

She is complaining about it loudly. Apparently, she rides at the abbey regularly as the surrounding farmers injure themselves and then a team of nuns have to ride out to bring medical aid. She quickly saw the astride method of riding as being more useful and now hates having to go back.

I will not lie. It is very funny to watch.

Entry 87

That was possibly the longest journey to Oxenfurt that I have ever taken. The two of us, essentially, rode in silence although Mother would exclaim and point out various places to me. Places of significance that meant something to her or something that she remembered. She seemed happy in her journeys and would occasionally hum some religious hymn that I recognised as well as some that I did not.

But we didn't really talk. It was… excruciating.

We got to Oxenfurt where she greeted a couple of people that she knew by name and we went to the up-market Inn that Emma had arranged rooms for her in. The kind of place where she could stay with a Maid to help her out. Something that Mother had found hilarious for reasons best known to herself.

I told her that I would meet her for dinner and went to walk away before she caught my arm by the sleeve.

"Freddie?" She began.

I turned back. Because, what else was I going to do?

"I was not a good mother." She told me with a serious expression on her face. "I did not defend you enough from your Father's tempers. I was remote, distant and that made me cruel. I also know that I cannot redeem myself in your eyes in the few short weeks that we have together before I must return to my penance."

She took a deep breath.

"But I would like to try. And just so you know. I am… immensely proud of you. So was your Father but I am so proud of you that I think my head is going to fall off. You did things in the North that I would never have thought possible and I know that I bear the blame for some of what you went through. I do… and I'm sorry.

"I know that we have much to talk about and I know that you have much to yell at me about and I know that I deserve the lot. But thank you. For all that you have done and all that you continue to do."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"I will see you at dinner this evening." She said before going into the inn.

I just made it back to my own lodgings before bursting into tears.

Entry 88

I chickened out of dinner, sending a message claiming that I was too tired after the journey. Knowing mother, she probably anticipated the lie.

Feeling awful, guilty and cowardly.

Entry 89

Would dearly love to spend the day hiding in my room under a blanket, but that is not possible. And would be a shame and a lessening of myself apart from anything else. I need to go and see Traiser at the bakery and I need to prepare for tomorrow's lecture. And I also need to put my big boy pants on and meet my mother for dinner. Needless to say that I am not looking forward to it.

Ah well

Entry 90

Interesting, very interesting.

Traiser is now a baker, he is a bit old for an apprentice but it is his third career after serving in the army of Redania, then the Watch of Oxenfurt and now he is learning to be a baker. The balance of the matter is that he has enough about himself so that he is not ashamed of asking for help and will freely admit when he has made a mistake. According to the actual baker, that is rare in these circumstances as most apprentices will just forge on regardless and end up making a colossal mess of things.

After all that though, it did mean that I got to eat some fresh bread and a nice warming cake straight out of the oven for my lunch. Traiser knew that I was coming and had had some chance to prepare himself for the coming meeting.

He has done well for himself. He met the baker's daughter and is intending to marry her and take over the bakery. It seems that she is a widow of the first time that this traditional process was attempted and the Father of the matter had kind of despaired given that his daughter was too old to attract a young apprentice but not wealthy enough to attract another type of husband. So when Traiser came along it was a boon.

Traiser had decided to leave the guard after the night of the bonfires. The night when the cultists were burnt. He had joined the guard after leaving the army expecting a nice life of standing on walls, walking up and down streets, ringing his bell, inspecting trade wagons and watching the pretty students walking by. But in turn, he said that he had seen more horror and the very worst of humanity in the guard. He did not hesitate to describe the day that he came across a woman with a broken arm and a collapsed eye socket, with the eye still hanging free, beating her husband to death with a poker because of what the husband had done to the child that was bleeding to death in the corner. The husband was already dead and it was clear that the woman was quite mad.

He also told stories about the horrific games that entitled students play on the poor and more than one murder. He wanted to get it out. He had things to say.

Somewhere in me an instinct roared that there was a story here. There was something to be said and that if he wrote down all of his experiences, then it would make a good book for people to read.

Not for me to write though. I have subjects and things to keep me busy from now until the day I die. But I might suggest it to some other people.

I did suggest to him that he might be able to write it down before he told me that he only just had his letters and the prospect of sitting at his desk all day to write when he could be doing something useful was abhorrent.

But still, his insistence that he had seen more horror in his time on the streets of Oxenfurt than his time in the army spoke to something in me.

He had already all but decided that he was going to leave the guard and had just not quite decided what he was going to do or how he was going to go about it when the night of the Bonfires happened.

Like Jannes he remembered Kalayn well although he was of the opinion that if trouble started it wouldn't be from Kalayn. So he spent most of that time with his eyes on other people.

"The problem, sir," he said. He wanted to call me sir. I tried to stop him on the grounds that I was neither Knight, military commander nor customer. And that an honorific wasn't necessary. I joked that he couldn't even reasonably expect to call me "My lord" because I wasn't. But it seemed that several years in the army had meant that he reflexively called everyone that was of superior social standing to himself "sir". I even saw him serve a woman at the bakery and call her 'Sir'. She asked him why and he grinned suggesting that the alternative was Madam or Ma'am and that suggested a brothel keeper so… She laughed with him and went on her way.

"The problem, sir, was that everyone was cloaked weren't they. I mean, you were there weren't you."

"I was."

"And you were wearing a cloak weren't you sir?"

"I was. And a hood and also armour."

"Yeah right. Only sensible weren't it, given what we were expecting. It were a dark night that were. Weren't it sir."

"It was." Not that it seemed as though he needed an answer, he wasn't asking a question. He was one of those men that had received his education on the streets. And his army days had taught him the dangers of being too clever. He was obviously intelligent. Again, I had seen him at work a little and watched as he added up a bill from a merchant ordering bread for his wagon train. His arithmetic skills are better than mine.

"I remember him, yeah. Full of the rightness of himself if you follow?" He said when I asked him about Uncle Kalayn

"I do."

"The kind of fuckwit that thinks that his shit smells sweeter than mine does, beggin' your pardon. But at the same time, wouldn't know which end of a shovel to grasp if a monster told him to dig his own grave."

His fiancee had secured a table round the back of the counter and was checking on us. She had a kind of wary adoration as she looked at Traiser. As though she expected him to up and run away at any moment, She kept wanting to touch him and check up on him to see if there was anything he needed. He acted towards her with the deep courtesy and gallantry of the uneducated soldier and she smiled timidly for him.

It was all rather sweet and I found myself hoping that it all worked out for the pair of them.

"He had two fuckwits with him." Traiser went on.

"Fuckwits?"

He stared at me for a long moment. "Begging your pardon sir? I thought you would've known. Slang term from back in my army days. Fuckwits are the heavily armoured infantry. Don't have a brain cell between them. The idiots just point them where they want them to go and that's where the fuckwits go. Don't have to think, see? All that armour makes them feel invulnerable. Couple that with the fact that their hats mean that they can't see a fuckin' thing… begging your pardon, and they just walk forward swinging their maces, hammers and what have you until some idiot tells them to stop.

"Don't have to think, see?. Don't have to look for threats because their armour keeps them safe. Don't have to think where an enemy is going to strike from because the armour can take it. And because they've got armour on, they think that they're better than those of us who have to dodge and weave and shit."

He sniffed to show what he thought of that.

I was fascinated.

"I see." I said. "And idiot?"

He grinned. "Men like you sir? Although you're better than the average idiot. You're not afraid to get stuck in. Yer average idiot sits in his armour, on a horse that's got more brains than he does."

"I see. So… Fuckwits are heavily armoured infantry. Fighters not thinkers. Arrogant brutish guard types."

"I see you're getting it sir. They make for good ceremonial guards and the type of men that stand in front of doors."

He took a drink from the mulled wine that was in a jug between us before grimacing at the taste. It did need a little more honey.

"Quite fancied being a Fuckwit myself to be honest with you. I mean, my missus claims that I would have been bored and she's probably right. But still. Lots of armour. I bet, that if you stand just right, you could go to sleep in that stuff and the armour would keep you upright."

"I've seen it done." I claimed. "A good knight or officer can spot it though."

"Yeah, but most of them are just as lazy as we want to be. Otherwise, they would do the fucking jobs themselves wouldn't they."

There was some truth to that.

"So Kalayn had two fuckwits with him?" I prompted. My own fascination needed to be put aside for the benefit of learning a few more facts.

"Yeah. Two of them. Same size. Big dickheads they were. You could see the armour underneath the cloaks."

"Wearing any suit of arms?"

"No. Fuckwits are only as stupid as the man leading them and whatever else the cunt might have been, Kalayn wasn't stupid."

"Fair enough." I said, pouring myself another cup. I always love talking to people like this. It reminds me that all the things that I think are true. The common man is more clever than his philosophers, nobles and scholars like to think. That servants and guards see and hear more than we give them credit for and that respect is not a commodity that is automatically granted.

"But I remember the three of them. I remember that I was trying to keep things moving. That was my job that night. Any group of people that were looking as though they were building up to doing something stupid, either to free a prisoner or to prevent the church guys from doing the burning so that something worse could be cooked up?"

I nodded to show that I knew what he meant. There was a real concern that some family of a victim would try and do away with a prisoner to visit a worse punishment than being burned alive as a heretic might be. I don't know what that could be but I imagine that if I caught the people that took Francesca, I could come up with a few things.

"So I were moving through the crowd, breaking up the groups with a word where I could and my cudgel when I couldn't. And I saw him. He was shouting at the church people that were tossing the sacred oil on the pyres before the flames were gonna be lit."

He sniffed.

"I don't know what the difference is between the sacred oil and the stuff we put in our lanterns." He said. "They both burn."

"They say it's the holiness." I told him. "But my brother once told me it's because they want the burning oil to smoke less. The danger being that the victim suffocates on the smoke before they have a chance to burn to death."

He looked at me.

"Huh." He said. "Every day's a school day."

We laughed together.

"How did he look?" I prompted.

"He looked angry, I thought. Kind of bored if anything. You know how… well maybe you don't. All the knights have to turn up to watch a soldier being punished in the regiment. They're all angry that they have to be there. Angry at the soldier that fucked up and meant that they had to be dragged from the arms of their squires or the nice warm mistresses that they have hidden in the wagon train. And they're bored with it all and just want it to be over. He looked like that."

That was interesting.

"Anyway, he saw his kid was being brought out. The kid protested. He was telling the lads that were bringing him out that they would pay for this and didn't they know who he was and all of the normal shite. Kalayn tried but those guards had some religious fuckwits with 'em and so Kalayn was pushed aside and the kid was pushed up onto the pyre and was tied there.

"It was about this point when the kid pissed himself. They always do, you know?"

"I know."

"I mean, they try not to. Thinking that they'll be men on the day. Even the ones for whom it's kind of a mercy. But they always piss themselves.

"Anyway,

"Kid calls to his dad and the dad tells him to die like a man. That he brought this on 'imself and that he should have seen this coming. Which he should but I thought it was a bit cruel. They were lighting the pyres at that point and the kid started screaming. I think I would have been taking good hard lungfuls of the smoke if it were me."

"So would I," I commented. What does it say about the times that we live in that we had both honestly considered how we would deal with being burnt at the stake.

"And then this other pair walks up to Kalayn."

"What other pair?" That feeling where you feel all of your senses pick up and stay at full mast.

Traiser scratched his chin.

"They certainly caught the eye like? One of them wasn't wearing a hood, as though he didn't care what the rest of us thought. He was walking around, all interested like? He didn't seem to care about the people screaming. Didn't seem to recognise people. Didn't seem to give a shit you know? He looked at the world as though it was something that he was kind of curious about. He wasn't angry, wasn't sad, just… curious. Like a man accompanying his wife into a dress shop."

I decided not to pick up on the man's metaphor. It was a good one though.

"What did he look like?"

Traiser thought about it.

"Hard to tell in the firelight. It was dark and… well… you know. But…" His face lit up as a thought occurred to him. "You ever been to see some street theatre?"

"I have," I replied.

"Well, you know when they produce the villain, and everyone knows that he's the villain 'cause he's dressed like a villain. And he walks onto stage and you everyone starts to hiss and boo and things."

Oh it was that kind of street theatre that he was talking about.

"I think I get it." I told him, trying not to smile.

"He looked like that. I didn't trust him, I didn't like him and if he turned up to the watch I would have gone to get the Sergeant rather than deal with the fucker meself. You know? He was the kind of fucker that enjoyed having the power of life and death over the people under his command."

I blinked as I tried to remember what his terminology was.

"Fucker?" I wondered.

He laughed.

"Yeah. There are two kinds of leaders. Not idiots. Leaders. These are the men that give the orders, including to the idiots. One type of them will send you to your death to help the majority to survive. To protect the civilians, guarantee victory, cover a retreat. We called them 'bastards' in my regiment. The other type, do it because they can, for politics and for themselves. This fucker looked to be the kind of fucker that enjoyed it too."

"What did he look like?" I wondered.

"He was wearing a robe of some kind. Not one of those religious robes…."

"A mage's robe?" I guessed.

He started to nod.

"Yeah, only without any of the sparkles and shit that the mages wear. You know, a lot of mages like to show off to the world that they're mages. Especially after 'is nibs and 'er ladyship have declared that it's legal to be a mage. Not that I've got anything against mages meself. I just think it's unnatural is all. Not something that we should dabble in if you follow me."

I do and I did. I guessed that "'is nibs' was the Emperor and "'er ladyship" was the Empress. Northerners have a certain sense of amused tolerance for the Empress. They know that she's one of them, Cintran, and as such feel that they can treat her with a proprietary contemptful respect. You watch what happens though when people bad mouth her on the street. The other possibility is that he was referring to Mark and Emma. It could go either way.

I also know that although people are more understanding of magic and magic users, they still don't like it.

"But mages," he went on. "They like to lord it over folk. I mean… I've seen that lady up at the castle, the one that's knockin' off your sister, beggin' your pardon and if that's what you're into then good luck to ya. None of my business who takes who to bed and I would be lying if I didn't want someone warm in me blankets on campaign but even so.

But the lady up at the castle, she's one of the better sort. Minds 'er Ps and Qs and always speaks respectful like. But the majority of em, they think that their piss is like wine and that we should be grateful when they spray our faces with it.

"And they want us to know who they are.

"But this one, he didn't care. He didn't give a shit, yeah? He were just… bored. Kind of bored looking. Both above and separate from anything."

I took a deep breath as the insight took me and I described Phineas Tordril.

"Did he look like that?"

"I dunno," Traiser said. "I mean, it sounds like 'im. It were dark and there was a lot of fire and smoke. You know?"

"I know."

"But it could have been him. In fact, yeah… Probably was him. Sounds like the fucker."

I nodded. I didn't want to leap to conclusions but it would track. I would get onto the rest of the guard and see if anyone else remembered seeing the mystery man that night.

"What about the other man?" I asked. "The hooded one?"

"I never saw 'is face." He warned me. "Sorry and all but I never saw 'is face."

"I understand, it's ok."

"And after all the drama, I looked but either he had gone or he changed his cloak or…"

"It's perfectly ok."

He subsided.

"Captain gave me a bit of grief for losing track of him is all. But I was too busy seeing if I could pull fucker Kalayn off the fire weren't I?"

"You were."

"He screamed so horribly. They always do when they're burning alive."

He shook his head. I shake my head like that too sometimes, when the memory of something refuses to be set aside.

"What was he like?" I asked. "The hooded man, I mean.

"He were a proper military man," Traiser said. "I mean, proper. He walked like he knew what he were doin'. He had a sword on him and a set of good boots. You can always tell the quality of an idiot by the way they wear their boots and this one wore good boots. Not flashy like some and he weren't wearing spurs neither. They were good, all-purpose boots so that he could ride in the saddle but also get off is horse and get stuck in with the rest of us, yeah?"

"I know the type," I told him. I was wearing a set myself.

"And he knew how to hold his sword." Traiser went on. "So many of them, they don't know you see. They know how to carry a sword or have one on a horse, but wearing it? That's a different thing. Not the dress swords that they wear to balls and brothels, the ones that are designed to look shiny and tell everyone how pretty they are. This was a proper sword. A sword meant for killing folk.

"And they don't know what to do with it, most of em anyway. He held it properly, properly away from the legs so that they don't trip over it."

I nodded. A proper Knight. A proper soldier. It was interesting but it didn't narrow it down much. Plenty of people wear boots like that, including me, Kerrass, Rickard, Sam and all of the other Bastards that were there that night.

"Were the two of them together?"

"They were, I think so anyway. The sword boy was leading and the other was kind of following behind. Kind of paying attention but not really caring, you know what I mean?"

I nodded to show that I did.

"Sword boy spoke to Kalayn. Kalyan was unhappy about something. Mage-cunt stood nearby listening but watching the people starting to burn. It didn't look dangerous so I looked away. Didn't seem as though it was going to burst into violence yeah? So not really something that I needed to worry about.

"They talked for a while, time enough for me to check on them a couple of times. Kalyan was looking at his son being burned. He looked sad and sword boy was telling him things. I looked away again and then someone screamed. I run over but Kalayn was already on the fire, thrashing around, his cloak had gone up in smoke and the fire was too hot for me to get near him."

I nodded.

"How far into the fire was he?"

"What?" he seemed startled.

"How far had he gone? Did he jump, was he pushed?"

"I don't know?" He protested, a little horrified. "He was there, he was on fire. I didn't have time to get a measuring stick out."

"Ok, ok." I placated him. "Did his clothes… you say they were on fire. Had someone doused him oil or something?"

"And how would I tell that?" He was getting angry now and I needed to make sure that I didn't lose him.

"I don't know," I said. "It was just a thought. What happened then?"

"I called for help but by the time anyone came, it was too late. Kalyan was a goner weren't he. Stupid fucker."

He didn't really have anything more to say. He tried to fetch water, sand or anything that had been set aside to prevent the fires from spreading. It had been, after all, a hot summer. Funny how in my memory, it is always raining when it comes to my Father's death but the truth was that it was mid to late summer. After all, Kerrass and I still had time to go south and wake Sleeping Beauty.

By the time he had come back though, it was clear that Kalayn was dead and there was no way that anyone was going to be able to save him. Yes, he was sure that no-one could have switched places with the man on the fire and yes he was sure that it really was Kalayn that had died. The clothing was the same apparently, as was the sword and the other accoutrements.

I left Traiser with my best wishes and an instruction to let the castle know when the wedding was going to be. He didn't seem particularly enthralled by the prospect of that but there you go. One exchange stuck out to me.

"What we did that night," he told me, staring down at his cup that he was twisting round and round. "What we did that night was evil. Don't get me wrong, it was necessary and I agree that sometimes a necessary evil needs to be done to help those that we love to sleep at night. And the people that we murdered were doing worse than what we did. But at the same time, what we did was evil. The church, you, the Cap'n and all the rest can tell me that it was justified. They can tell me that we did the right thing. I agree. We did do the right thing. But that doesn't stop it from being evil."

There were flaws in his argument of course. But they are clever philosophical tricks that leave me feeling kind of dirty. I didn't use them on Traiser. He was already struggling to like me and I feel as though I deserved his mistrust. I have, historically, made light of that night. I have, of course, claimed on a regular basis that it was a spontaneous display of right minded individuals. I have also claimed that I was never there. But in doing so, I wonder if I lessened the people that were there. The people that did the necessary thing to make sure that that shit was not done again.

I will talk with Ariadne on this subject

I left with an odd sense of excitement but also a bitter disappointment. It was a lead but it was also a fairly paltry one. The interesting figure in the story was whoever it was that had been with Phineas, presuming that it was Phineas at all. The problem being that that man could be anyone, almost literally, it could have been anyone.

The most likely outcome was that it was Lord Cavil or some other fellow parent from someone that had been caught and was being burnt at one of the other stakes that night. Someone from the cult or someone that was associated with the cult. Someone that, most likely, had burnt on another pyre somewhere to the north, or had died in the cave when it was assaulted by the forces of the Inquisition. There was simply no way to know.

Having said that, I did know more now than I had earlier that day. I wrote to the head of the Imperial garrison in Novigrad to request an appointment. And I wrote to the guard commander to ask if anyone could remember the movements of Phineas on the night in question and who, if anyone, had seen who he was in the company of that same night.

I have a lecture to prepare for and a meal to have with my mother now.

The lecture I will quite enjoy, the meal…?

Entry 91

I've just looked over my notes from my conversation with Traiser today. Then I looked back at the notes that I took with the old investigator. I write these things as though I'm still annotating articles for the magazine. This says something about me. I mean, I'm not sure what it says, but it says something.

Mother didn't show up for dinner. She sent a message to say that she was having a headache, something about too much too soon.

I feel… let down.

Off to bed now.

Entry 92

I didn't sleep well last night.

I feel guilty. I…

No, this feels wrong. Like I'm starting an article in the wrong place or that I don't have the chapter of the book properly planned before I sit down to start.

It is the day of the fourth Witcher lecture. It describes the fall of the Witchers schools, to outside influences, natural disaster and also internal strife. It will be a bleak lecture and it is an important one about how we left the people who saved us out in the cold to starve and die because we didn't care about them and didn't want to know about them.

It's a vital lecture and I can get properly angry in it which is something that I was looking forward to.

So it should be taking all my focus, all of my… drive and energy. I shouldn't be thinking of other things. But I can't stop thinking about my mother.

She didn't come for dinner last night and I don't know why.

The reason that she gave me in her little message was that she had tried to do too much too soon. That after two years, give or take, of quiet contemplation, prayer and service to the people around her, to suddenly go from that to having to be the Dowager Baroness of the region had been too much. It had been exhilarating and terrifying and…

It was just too much for her.

And it's a good reason. It is. I remember that first year back when I wintered in Oxenfurt after my first year on the path with Kerrass. That break before an article had been published, no-one knew who we were, Father was still alive and we still hated each other. I remember coming back after nearly a year of sleeping rough or in shitty beds that I paid through the nose for. I remember coming back to a snow covered Oxenfurt where the food was good, the music was loud, the women were beautiful and the bed was comfortable and warm. I had no idea what to do with myself.

Where previously I had spent hours or days at a time staring at books or my own work, I could no longer spend more than a couple of hours in place per day otherwise I would get a headache. I had to space my things out and work cleverly rather than indiscriminately.

I remember struggling to sleep and giving into the temptation to sleep on my own couch or on the floor more than once. I remember going out to see a friend's play and feeling hemmed in by all the people that were around me, pressing against me and hemming me in. I remember being in a tavern and someone dropped a tray of drinks and the crowd laughed and jeered. I remember automatically reaching for a spear that had been left in my rooms and standing there, shivering and breathing hard until a friend pointed out how ridiculous I was being and calmed me down.

I remember the headaches and the yearning for some fresh air, some peace and quiet. It took me a week to calm down and settle and I had not been as far away as my mother had been.

I had not had to change my entire identity.

So the excuse was a good one as to why she hadn't been there. The need to stay in a quiet and dark room where there were no noises. I remember feeling the same.

But I also cannot deny the gratitude I felt when she messaged me. It meant that I didn't have to worry about our extended conversation for another day.

And now I feel guilty about the fact that I was glad that my own mother couldn't make a dinner appointment.

And I have to go and give a lecture

Entry 93

The lecture went well. I am so glad as I was honestly worried that I was going to flub it there for a while. I went into it, not quite at my best. I was tired, grouchy and I wanted to fight someone and as it turned out, that was exactly the mood that I needed in order to deliver the material.

I remember discussing it once, this will have been back when I was first starting to give lectures and deliver seminar material. I was offering a seminar on Witchers… This will have been the break in the journey after Sleeping Beauty had woken up. I remember discussing it with my tutor who was assessing me, even though he now admits that he had already decided that I needed a pass so that I could sit on the faculty, but I remember expressing a concern that I wasn't exactly impartial when it came to discussing this material. I told him that I had been out on the road with a Witcher. That the Witcher was my friend and that I, therefore, couldn't really talk about it.

He laughed at me and told me that it is all but impossible to separate ourselves from the material that we are talking about.

"We can get close but we will never be perfect in that regard." He told me. "Even when we are looking at secondary sources or writing about a series of primary sources, sooner or later, our own opinion will become part of the analysis. There is nothing wrong with that until we start twisting the facts to suit our own opinion. Are you going to do that?"

"No,"

"Well then."

"So what do I do?"

"In this case? I would suggest that you lean into it. It will lend passion and excitement to your words. That will make people remember it."

So today, I remembered that advice and I went all in. I did not hesitate to hold back my scorn for the cowards that had murdered children when they had gone to destroy the school of the Wolf at Kaer Morhen. Nor was I sparing of my disdain for the Emperor using the Viper school, manipulating their sense of pride in their school and their skills. Using their desire for a family and the safety of their friends in order to turn them into assassins and, in the end, getting them all wiped out.

I expressed sadness at the destruction of that most noble of schools, the Griffin in natural disasters and I expressed scorn against those that had moved against the Bear school out of fear. And just when the Redanians in the audience were beginning to feel a bit more secure I also went after the Redanian military for attacking the Cat, for the purposes of trying to, essentially, make a regiment of supersoldiers in order to terrify the continent. Thus proving those ancient fears of the Witchers correct.

I took no quarter and I held nothing back. When someone tried to get aggressive with me I destroyed them. When Temerians tried to protest my comments on the Viper school, I tore them apart and pointed out that it was the precursor to war. And that those self-same Temerians had been saved by a Witcher, on several different occasions but the first time something goes wrong, they fell into the stereotype and blamed the Witcher.

At first, people were mortified. People laughed and cheered when I went after their rivals before they became sheepish when I turned on them. The many sins of the North against the people that had done their best to save them came back to roost in that room and all of them went away, thinking about it. Some of them might hate me for it, they might but I honestly, don't feel remotely guilty.

They had it coming.

And then mother attended.

I had been expecting her. She had, after all, told me that she was going to be there and that she was looking forward to it. But where I had expected her to be sitting in one of those seats that were reserved for the guests of honour, instead, she sat somewhere near the back. She was hooded and cloaked in disguise and only approached me when she was sure that she wasn't going to be getting in the way of anyone else.

She came to see me afterwards and told me that she would be happier speaking to me somewhere private. My tutor intervened and after he shook my hand with words to the tune of "amongst your best work" he offered mother his arm and they strode off. I still had other people to see but I received a message to tell me that they were in my tutor's office.

It is always the way after a big lecture that people want to talk to you. They want to shake you by the hand and ask you questions and do this and that and the other thing. In this case, there were also a few people who wanted to challenge me on a couple of my conclusions which I was ok with, I was quite enjoying the prospect of a good fight. And a few people that offered warnings that I might upset someone powerful. I told them that I didn't care about that either, which was true. My favourite was Lady Eilhart who came up to me towards the end, still scribbling in her notebook.

"Interesting." She told me, "very interesting indeed. Well researched and a few things that even I wasn't aware of. I would possibly suggest some discretion when it comes to a couple of points but your passion is unmistakable and even admirable."

I thanked her. Lady Eilhart is sometimes a struggle, there is always this urge to turn everything that she says to me over in my head to see if it's a compliment or a threat.

"I look forward to the final lecture." She told me before moving off, the crowd parting before her like… well… I don't know really.

I finally got rid of the other hangers on and went off to find my mother. When I walked in, I passed my tutor on the way out who had all the attitude and feeling of a man that was beating a retreat. He gave me a significant glance and clapped me on the shoulder before leaving.

Mother was in tears.

"Oh flame," I began, "What did I do?"

She laughed, the tears still running down her face. She had a rag pressed to her eyes and she scrubbed at her face to clean it. Another change in my mother. She used to wrap the handkerchief round a finger so that she could carefully dab at the eyes in order to not smudge her makeup. But now she was actively scrubbing as though she didn't care for her appearance.

Time in Ellander was good for her.

"I know that you won't want to hear this." She told me. "I even know that there's a better than evens chance that you will hate me for saying it. But you reminded me so much of your father."

She was right. I didn't want to hear it.

"Flame," she went on. "But I loved your father. Even at the height of his rage and his passion, he was an incredible man and I squandered him. I threw it away I just… I miss him so much. I know that you and he had a difficult… I miss him though."

Fuck it.

I knelt next to her and put my arms around her, astonished to feel tears on my own cheeks.

We wept together for a while and as we did so, I felt something in my chest give way. It started slow and after a while, I started to really weep, sobbing into my mother's arms.

Later, much later, when we had both calmed down. She pulled away and scrubbed at her face again. I was suddenly struck with the absurd fear that she was going to scrub my face, the same as she did when I was little, where she would grab my chin and tilt my head to the light so that she could clean the muck off me.

I think she saw it in me somewhere and she pulled away.

"Flame, but I was a terrible mother." She declared.

I wanted to deny it, I really did but the traitorous words stayed in my throat, unsaid.

She climbed to her feet and smoothed her skirts down.

"I apologise for chickening out yesterday." She told me, a little formally. "Dinner this evening? Emma has given me a generous budget for my needs and I feel the need to treat my son as I try and teach him that it was a compliment to be compared to his father."

Something in her face, combined with the words made me giggle, then I laughed and she laughed with me.

"Sounds good," I said.

-Entry 94

Mother was in charge of dinner.

It turned out that we ate at one of those up-market taverns that I never ate at while I was a student because I could never afford it and when I could afford it later, I didn't eat there because it kind of didn't appeal, or it looked a bit… being fancy for the sake of being fancy.

They employ a troll bouncer who has to wear a cravat for crying out loud.

He's an amiable soul though and as is the way with such creatures, he sits there and looks you up and down whenever you walk up and if you are not dressed up to the code of the management, he simply leans over and puts his arm in front of the door and there is no-one that gets past that.

It's the kind of place where you need to have a reservation and be properly dressed and Mother had gotten a reservation. As it turns out, she really was one of those people that knew the owner. There are always people that try and pretend that they know the owner, but in this case, she really did.

"Your Father brought me here when I first came down to Oxenfurt." She told me as we were seated. "It was much quieter then and not as popular. It was a new place and it turned out that your father had gotten the owner a good deal on some particularly fancy meat which the owner then used to make his name. As a result…" She shrugged.

Having said all of that, we had been ushered straight to our table rather than waiting around in the entrance way of the restaurant where anyone could see us and we were sitting at a small table way back from the main eating area.

On the one hand, that meant that we would have the privacy to talk and on the other hand, it meant that people couldn't see us. It was the kind of thing where we out of sight and out of mind.

There was a candle on the table.

"Well this is awkward," I said.

"Why?"

I gestured at the candle.

"They think we're a couple."

She looked down at the candle and she laughed.

"You mean you've never brought your young lady here?"

"I would remind you that she stopped counting her years of birth and only celebrates the decades now."

"Ah yes. So she said in one of her letters."

That was a blow.

"You mean the two of you have kept in touch?"

"Oh yes. I can't know my daughter-in-law in person but I made it my business to know who she was otherwise. She strikes me as a good woman, if reluctant to speak about herself. She always seems to have questions."

"That is a thing that she likes to do." I agreed.

Mother looked good. She was dressing simply which suited her far more than the overly ornate gowns that Father used to make her wear when they were trying to be the new couple at court. Her hair was tied back in a working braid, the same way that Ariadne wears hers when she is planning to do some extended work in the lab, although much to my relief, Mother wore her braid down her back.

Not that I would have been attracted to my mother, but if Ariadne had copied that gesture from my Mother then… I don't know how I would feel about that.

She was wearing a simple pair of ear-rings and she still wore that Griffin Witcher symbol around her neck. She had a habit of taking it out and playing with it whenever she was thinking or otherwise allowing herself to rest idle. It seemed to have a settling effect on her, the same way that I feel better whenever I can take hold of my spear and hold onto it firmly.

She looked good.

"So…" I began after the wine had been ordered and we had both chosen the chestnut soup to begin. "How are you going to convince me that it is a good thing to be called my Father's son. And I warn you, that if you talk about his hard work or his success in bringing the Coulthard family to prominence, I may vomit."

"Not at the table I trust." She told me with a raised eyebrow.

"Jokes," I commented sourly. "My mother is making jokes."

"So surprised?"

"You were never one for joking."

Her eyes became vacant. "No, no I wasn't. You don't realise the things you have lost until they are gone. I was never a joker and now that I have spent two years in the presence of women that don't have to stand for my nonsense. Women that have to shovel horse doings or they get drowned in the stuff…"

"You mean that they shovel horse-shit mother?"

"Yes, precisely. Although kindly do not swear at the table."

"Sorry Mother."

"They might be earthy women but that doesn't mean that they ignore things about the use of language. Remember that."

"Yes, mother,"

"Don't you 'Yes mother' me."

"No mother."

We laughed. The wine turned up and mother's eyebrows rose when I knew how to test the wine properly.

"You don't travel to Toussaint without learning some things about wine." I told her.

She shrugged at that and the conversation lapsed again as we both looked at our hands.

"You aren't going to like me for saying this." She said, "But I used to tell people that if they wanted to know what your Father was like when he was a younger man, they should walk up to you and shake you by the hand."

"You understand that that's not a compliment to me."

"I know and it saddens me to know it. Although it is very like your father. You, Emma and Mark were your Father's children. Edmund, for my sins, Samuel and Francesca were mine."

I said nothing. I was not enjoying this.

"The thing that your Father did was that he became interested in things and that is what you all had in common, you, Mark and Emma. You become fixated on things and you dive into them with both feet. To the point where you only come up for breath when someone reminds you. Your thing was history and therefore becoming a scholar. Mark's was religion and philosophy, therefore becoming a priest while Emma and your Father shared a fascination with money and the taking of that money and making the amount grow.

"Make no mistake that the family's growth into what it is is because your Father realised that to make his wealth grow, he needed a noble title to protect himself from just being taxed back down to being a dirt farmer. He needed to invest that wealth in order to keep it safe and to do that, he needed to be nobility."

"I always thought that his ambition was to grow the family."

"It was although that was more his Father, your Grandfather's ambition. Your Grandmother and I would talk about it a lot. The point was to grow the wealth so that we could grow the family so that we could grow the wealth. And even more than that, your Father enjoyed that process, he was fascinated by that. Before he earned the King's displeasure, he would stand at court and just watch the goings on. I would have to teach him about it and explain the bits that he didn't understand but still. He loved it. He loved growing the family and making it wealthy.

"The reason that you and he didn't get on was because he didn't understand, or see the use for your passions. You are interested in why things are the way they are. That is the root of you really. You want to take things apart and look at them. You were obviously never going to be an engineer or a craftsman of some kind."

"Obviously."

Mother ignored my sarcasm in the face of her background, deeply ingrained classism.

"Nor did you have any kind of artistic talent. But you wanted to know how things worked. I remember you asking your sister why things were the way that they were. You would ask why people hated us, she would explain and then you would ask why, then why again. Sometimes children do that to wind people up, but you were genuinely interested.

Your love of history comes partially out of that. You want to know why Redania is the way it is. Why did King Vizimir treat his son the way he did and why oh why are Witchers the way they are."

I smirked at that. It is sometimes disquieting to be broken down to your most basic components but parents are almost uniquely suited to be able to do that.

"Your Father wanted to grow the family and continue to increase our wealth so that none of us would have to live with the back breaking poverty that his father used to tell us all tales about over the dinner table. He was terrified of it. And the rest of the family that followed his outlook played along with it. Mark was the second son so he was going to be the churchman. We were helped there because when he was born, I was still so happy with my new life. I read from the stories and the writings of the Prophet and he loved those stories so all I had to do was to keep going. We hired the best tutors and the best… well… you know the rest. So he became fascinated with that and given that he never showed any interest in the pleasures of the body, he was suited to go to the cloister."

She sighed. "I was so proud of him. My little priest. Poor Mark."

On that we could agree at least.

"Where I had a son to dress in a cassock and we had an eldest son to carry on the line. Your Father was overjoyed when a girl was produced. The old thing about fathers and their daughters carried true and she followed your Father around everywhere with her little serious face and her sharp mind. Flame but I loved her and I loved the way that your Father's face would light up every time she asked a clever question or pointed out a pattern in all of the trading information that we had access to at the time.

"Flame but he loved his trading reports.

"But then there was you. You weren't supposed to be born and we were astonished when you came along. Overjoyed but astonished. And we didn't really have anywhere to put you. Edmund, Mark and Sam had fulfilled their roles so we didn't know what to do with you. It was and is unfair to call you a spare, but that is what you became. And although we failed you in that, and we did. It allowed you to become the man that you are.

"We realised our mistake too late though. You were not trained the way that we wanted, you weren't interested in just being a spare Coulthard, or growing the family, or any of that. You had found a passion without our influence and then… You had escaped your Father's grasp… which makes it sound more sinister than it was. But you were outside of his plans and he didn't understand why you weren't conforming to his wishes.

"I tried to tell him on a couple of occasions but we had drifted apart by then and he didn't want to listen."

Her face fell.

We sat in silence for a while before she suddenly moved.

"I suppose you want to ask me about the cult and things. Why didn't I warn anyone about my Father's cult and about my brother's shenanigans."

"I do," I admitted. "But we have time for that. I'm too busy being fascinated by your assessments as to the family."

She laughed at me. "See, you want to know why things are the way that they are. You want to know why Edmund was the way he was."

"I do," I admitted. "But also about Francesca. You say that Edmund, Sam and Francesca are all your children. Forgive me but I don't see the similarities. Especially if you put…" My throat caught for a moment and I swallowed. "Especially if you put Frannie and Edmund together. Two more different people you could never imagine."

"You have a little, and a big brotherly bias."

She took a drink and stared off into the distance.

"One of the things that I have enjoyed about your articles is the number of times that you emphasised that education is not the same thing as intelligence. I am better educated than your Father but your Father was, by far, the more intelligent of the two of us.

"I am a creature of instinct. I look around me and I see the way that I can turn things to my advantage. It was because of my family and their awful, awful cult… They taught me that I could only depend on myself if I wanted to survive. Not just survive, but have even a little bit of a life. I looked for the easy route, the advantageous route. What was around me, what could I say or do to turn the situation to my advantage. What could I fixate on to make my life a little bit easier.

"Your Father did the same thing by sheer intelligence. He thought things through, I just did it by instinct."

She sipped from her wineglass and made a face of pleasant surprise.

"Edmund took that quality and made it a vice. He took it and as he looked at everything that your Father showed him about his future and what he would have access to, he only took the things that he wanted from it. The rest of it just seemed to bounce off him. There were other factors of course, the cult and my damn brother coming to interfere made things worse. But all of that taught your brother what he had access to for the parts of his life that he wanted to enjoy.

"It didn't help that we were first time parents and didn't really know what we were doing. So we just… assumed that your brother would follow by example and take after your Father the way we wanted him to. By the time we realised that wasn't working?.. I don't know, I just think it was too late."

The soup arrived, a creamy chestnut soup. Chestnut soup is one of those things that I always struggled with. When it's served, it never fails to be delicious, but I can't help but feel for all the people that have to take their time to peel the chestnuts in order to provide the soup. It strikes me as being incredibly hard work for so little result when other soups can be made, far easier and without all of the nonsense that goes with it.

And as is true with all of these kinds of eating establishments, there wasn't quite enough there to properly satisfy me. I felt as though I had just gotten a taste of the soup before I was scraping the bottom of the bowl. I looked up to find my mother watching me, humour sparkling in her eyes as when she was sure she had my gaze, she picked up the bowl and licked it.

I was caught between outraged horror and amusement. The number of times that Father had yelled at one of us for doing precisely that at the dinner table.

The staff took our bowls away with our compliments and we were warned that it might be a little wait for our main course. Mother was gracious and made noises about "that's how we know it's properly cooked"

"Mark and Emma did better, it was easy to find their interests and then act on them, making sure that they had access to the things that they needed in order to become good at what they were interested in and then just, let them get on with it.

"I think, looking back, that we were lucky with Sam. He was good at what he was assigned to. He didn't need to be much more than shown a weapon or a skill that was involved and then he would be a master of that armament. He picked up the physical movements so easily. He could also pick up on his opponents habits and figure out how to defeat them. It was an instinctual thing. 'A soldier's instinct' his weapons tutor called it. But on the other hand, once it penetrated his young mind that he was going to be a soldier. He stopped working on the other things. They just weren't important to him.

"Many of your friends have commented that despite Sam's eligibility, which he is, they find Sam to be… a little off-putting. That doesn't surprise me. He stopped working on the parts of his character that needed working on in order to be socially capable. He will be a good lord I think, I hope, and I have no doubt that he is a good leader. But unless something changes, he will make a poor husband. Don't tell him I said that of course."

"Oh of course." I was unhappy with that. I didn't like keeping things from Sam, there were times when all that the two of us had were each other.

"I mean, I'm looking forward to seeing him and I mean to talk to him about this, but he took only the things he needed to be good at being a knight and a soldier. He didn't see the point in the rest of it and so…"

"Mum," I began carefully. "I love you, but I am not a priest. You cannot gain absolution from me. I am not the person to apologise to and I cannot take away your guilt."

She looked at me a little in horror. Before becoming thoughtful. "You're right. Of course you're right."

Then she sighed and shook herself.

"I will talk to Sam and see if we can put a few things right. Having said that, I still need to get back. I have a deadline after all."

"I understand."

"Fortunately," she changed the subject quickly. "Everything we got wrong with Edmund, and to a lesser extent with Sam, we got right with Francesca and in every way that Edmund was selfish, Francesca was… not. The instincts that he used to gather things for himself and be selfish, she used to make others feel good and be generous. We taught her to be good in court and she sucked up all of the things that she needed to be good at that. She saw that the Empress needed a friend and then she took the things she needed to provide that lady with that. I'm glad. At one stage, she was just going to be some man's wife and that would have been a disaster, for her and for him I think."

We chuckled at that. We had often joked that Francesca would dominate any man that she married. Then, as it always does when thoughts of Francesca came up, we both turned towards the melancholy. A mood that we were saved from by the arrival of our palate cleansers.

When we were done with the sharp, clean, fruity ices, I sat waiting to see if Mother was going to say something. When she didn't I decided that this was my time.

"Mother, I have questions."

She looked up at me. "Yes, I thought you might. Emma warned me."

"Of course she did. What did she tell you?"

"She told me that you were worried. That there were some unanswered questions left over from when the cult was discovered and I killed… I killed my son."

I nodded and gave her a moment to correct herself and feel better. I spoke again when she nodded.

"It is clear to everyone." I began. "That your brother would not have thrown himself on Cousin Kalayn's pyre. Most people that met him, or knew him, suggested that he would have, if not fought, then he would have got himself another heir, if he didn't have someone in mind already. Or he would have stayed alive for as long as possible just to spite… whoever."

"This is true. Although, didn't he name Sam as his heir?"

"Yes," I thought back. "But he didn't do that by name. He didn't say, 'Sam Coulthard is my heir', he wrapped it up in legalese."

"Yes, that's right." Mother agreed.

"So you cannot tell me that this was his plan," I said. "Why would he make the son of his rival, the son of someone who, I understand, had refused monetary assistance?.."

I stopped talking, hoping that Mother would want to fill in the gaps.

"Yes. That was the visit that first caused your Father to stop loving me." She took a deep shuddering breath.

"I think that that's untrue," I told her.

Her face hardened. "I was there."

"He kept that portrait of you in his rooms mother. He didn't take it down. He loved you, even if he was angry, or… I don't know. But he wanted to look at your face and he didn't let you take holy orders because he wanted to keep you around. You don't do that kind of thing to spite someone."

She didn't believe me.

"My brother came." She began. "Your Father had been wanting to tie our family together for a while. The addition of the older name of Kalayn would add legitimacy to the Coulthard… brand and your Father wanted that. Now that my Father was dead, who your Father had disliked. Although I had never told your Father what had happened, it was still true that something about Father had set your father on edge. But now that the old man was removed, your father had some hopes that things could progress now.

"So Your Father was often inviting my brother and his family to come and visit us. I tried to tell him that it was pointless but your father insisted. And then one day, your cousin, who was slightly older, took Edmund out to induct him into the family religion.

"They went out one day for a ride. Your brother was no saint but your cousin was evil. Edmund would have been, not very old, just at the point when his body was becoming fit for purpose and your cousin took him out. They destroyed a family between them. Edmund was already good with a sword and your Cousin was no slouch. I was pleased when you beat him."

"I have seen that kind of thing before," I told her. "Men who think that the talent and capability of their younger years will keep them safe in their later ones. I train every day to be merely… good. He was overconfident and he underestimated me."

"Still…" She said, "I would have liked to see that. Dreadful wretch that he was. But they came back and although they were old enough to do the deed, they were too young to keep it secret. They were proud Freddie."

She shuddered and I thought I heard a sob in their voice.

"I have never seen your Father so angry. Never. I knew his rage as a cold thing, a narrowing of his eyes, a slight tightness to his jaw and a certain clipped nature to his voice. Even when he yelled at all of you, I knew when he was angry and when he was just putting his anger on like an overcoat in order to teach you all what he wanted.

"He flogged your cousin and turned my brother out at the point of a sword. My brother wasn't prepared for that. I think… I mean, I don't know. I was still beneath my brother's notice so I don't know, he never talked to me about it. But I think that my brother thought to blackmail your father with the information of what had happened. He intended to keep that knowledge over your Father in order to get the Coulthard's to bankroll the Kalayn resurgence. Both at court and in the cult.

"I think your cousin was encouraged to corrupt Edmund. I think he did it deliberately.

"But those without integrity do not understand those people with integrity. Your Father neutralised the blackmail at a stroke. He countered that he would simply tell the church what the Kalayns were up to and my brother, who was a coward…"

"Another reason that he wouldn't kill himself." I interrupted.

"Yes." Mother agreed. "His malevolence turned to fear and he fled your Father's wrath. But the damage was done. Edmund was corrupted by the power that he had been shown. He felt… good about it, he enjoyed it and to learn that there was a god out there that applauded these displays of power. Not the, in his eyes, weak powers of the Eternal Flame.

"The other damage was that a wedge was driven between your Father and I for a long time. I hated that and I hated my brother for it. I never loved your Father more than when he did that. And he was never more attractive to me than when he was clothed in that righteous fury against my brother and nephew. But he demanded of me to know what was going on and I told him.

"He hated me for a long time after that."

We sat in silence for a while.

"How did you…" I had to clear my throat. "This was before Sam, right? So how did the two of you come back together."

She laughed, her bad mood forgotten.

"A common enemy. You remember de Radford."

"Yes I remember him. And dinner with my mother is not a good time for me to say exactly what I think of him."

She laughed at that. "And you claim that you are not like your Father." She commented with relish. "We were at court for some reason or other and Radford's father tried to seduce me. He did it so insultingly that I was outraged and your Father came to my rescue. Not only did your Father defend me on the day, but then he gleefully set about destroying the Radford family fortune which resulted in the family being little more than a name and an old castle that was falling apart."

"Our castle?"

"Flame no. I would not have lived in anything that the Radfords had anything to do with." She shuddered theatrically. No, our castle was chosen carefully. But the night of that insult, for the first time in a long time, he came to my chamber and apologised to me for Radford's insult. I of course told him that he didn't need to apologise and then… well…

"Sam was born nine months later and our marriage was renewed. Then you were born and eventually, Francesca."

"But then you and Father started to drift apart?"

"Yes. Edmund's… activities were getting too big to ignore. Your Father was dealing with the matter as best he could and we just… started to, as you say, drift apart."

I nodded.

"We have gotten off topic though."

"Yes, my brother throwing himself on his son's pyre." She said it with not a small amount of relish.

"You knew him as well as anyone else." I began carefully. I had no idea how inflammatory these questions would be. "Would he do that? Would he throw himself on a pyre?"

"No." She said definitively. "No he wouldn't… Ummm," She tilted her head to one side before nodding. "No, he definitely wouldn't have done that."

I nodded my confirmation. I remember not really thinking of it in the past but at the here and now of the matter, the fact that Kalayn had died seemed to be of vital importance.

"So the next question is," I began. "If he didn't jump, he would have been pushed."

Mother nodded.

"I should say," she began. "That my memories of my younger years are… not entirely defined. Mother Nenneke calls it repression. I call it not wanting to remember but she tells me that it's the same kind of thing and who am I to argue with so venerable a woman."

"She does seem to have done you good."

"She has. More than I can say. I only wish that the woman I am now would have had a chance to be a mother to all of you and a wife to your Father. I can look back and see all of the things that I did wrong. Not least of which was to not stand up to your Father in matters of your education. And Edmunds for that matter. But that is a rant for a different day.

"No, my brother would not have jumped onto the fire. He would have had to be pushed. You couldn't even compel him, or force him to do it. I remember little but the culture of the area that we were in… and I don't know if it is because of the cult of the first-born as you called them, or whether the first-born practice of the cult grew out of local culture. But my brother was the first born son. Therefore, he was all but a god in the face of our father. He could do no wrong and he was taught to believe that he was the centre of the universe. A lot like Edmund though… See what I mean about Edmund being my son, my brother didn't see all the parts of the responsibilities that that brought him. He just saw the benefits.

"There is a reason why your cousin came south to found his own little branch of culting."

She laughed suddenly.

"People always rebel at their parents. It was a fifty-fifty chance that his measure of rebelling would be to become this kind of saintly figure, healing people and taking care of small animals, or he would find an even worse form of cultish, dark religion behaviour to follow."

I kind of laughed with her until we both kind of realised what we were laughing at and were appalled.

"That was pretty dark Mother." I told her.

"Yes, yes it was."

We sat in silence for a while until the main course came. It was delicious.

"Was my brother dead before he hit the flames?" Mother asked. "Not that I would be angry with whoever did that, but it would strike me that that would be a good way to obscure the crime."

"It would." I admitted, carefully swallowing a mushroom before I answered. "Unfortunately, we don't know because, body on fire."

She caught herself smirking at that before she stopped herself.

"The other problem there," I went on, "is not trying to figure out a motive, but rather, it was figuring out who didn't have a motive that is more difficult. That night was a vigilante action. The courts were going to let a significant portion of those conspirators go. Church and secular soldiers and guards were on our side but as well as the families that had come to protest the executions and the religious pyres that were being used. There were also a lot of families that were there. Friends and relatives of the victims. People had come to see those people die. And any one of which could have seen the opportunity to stick a knife into a man that they hate. A man who was trying to get his son released for reasons of, they had more money,"

Mother nodded sadly. "I can't say that I blame them."

"Nor can I. I have another question though."

"Go on."

"Given that your memory of your… I'm going to call them 'formative years' because calling them your childhood seems a bit redundant. But your memory of them is a bit patchy. Do you have any memory of a mage called Phineas Tordril?"

She nodded. "I do not think so. I have been thinking about that since Emma wrote to me with what you had found regarding the disappearance of Francesca. Give me some context."

"He was a mage, rather full of himself. We know that he was dissatisfied with the amount of power that he could command through his existing abilities. So he had taken to pursuing alternative methods to become more powerful. We know that he was working with Lord Dorme, the guy that was trying to unearth Ariadne in an effort to use her against his enemies.

"We also know that he was in the North, advising Lord Cavil who, we understand, was your Father's successor to the top position of the cult of the first born. We know that he kidnapped Francesca and that his stated goal in kidnapping Francesca was partially in revenge for Kerrass and my accidentally on purpose destroying his scheme with Angral and to blackmail, force our family into doing things for him. He didn't realise how much of a shitstorm that he had called down however."

Mother nodded at that.

"So instead… Well, I'm sure you know."

"Yes." She said, "I know."

It has been a long time since I have seen my mother angry. It is not nice and I do not like it. Even as I agreed with it.

"The reason I bring him up is that he has recently come back to prominence in this entire situation."

"Why?"

"I have a witness that places Phineas, accompanying a man who was talking to your brother just before he died. My witness had many things to look at at the time and as such, has no idea what else can be discussed or what they were talking about, other than it definitely happened."

"Who was the other man?"

"I have no idea. And to be honest, you are the first person I've talked about it with. Working with a Witcher who, among other things, is also a private detective. The man was hooded and cloaked which means that, not only did he want to obscure his appearance, but he was afraid that he might be recognised. Which are two different things."

Mother smiled at that.

"Also, it was a man and he was military in bearing. He was wearing a sword which makes him fairly rich all things considered and my witness described him as "knowing how to walk with a sword," which means that he was no slouch with it.

"The other thing that we know about him was that his boots were built for both walking on the ground but could also be used for horseback. But even though they were horse riding boots, there were no spurs on his boots."

She nodded again. "Your Father used to insist that any rider who used spurs was not a real rider."

"That is certainly what he insisted on teaching me. Which is why we think he was a real nobleman.

"The problem being that… we don't know who this person is and if he was a noble and associating with Phineas, it is just as likely that he was already working with Lord Cavil in the north. So we might be making this swordsman out to be some kind of bogeyman when, in fact, we have already killed this man. That would also fit with what we know of the timeline of events."

Mother was not bothering to hide the fact that she was enjoying my discourse.

"Phineas left Angral and then came west while Kerrass and I were pissing about in the North. We don't know if he was already in contact with the cult of the first-born or if he had just made contact and was therefore doing his best to make some waves. I am not fond of either interpretation.

"So it is true that he could have made contact with the cult and come south because he was already annoyed with how Kerrass and I had interfered with his plans. Or that he was recognised while in Oxenfurt and recruited to the cult by… whoever."

"So what you are telling me, is that all of this is about you wanting to finish putting the jigsaw pieces together. That you know what the picture is but that you are unsatisfied with it until it is finished."

"Pretty much."

I had leant forward at some point in the conversation and now leant back with a huff.

"Except that there's this niggle in the back of my mind." I said. "Just a little itch. It is true that my life on the road has damaged me in more ways than I can easily explain. More ways than I understand myself. It is also true that paranoia is a very real consequence of all of that. I know that and I'm comfortable with that…"

"Liar," she said with a smile, pouring us both some more wine. "I am your Mother Freddie and you can't hide it from me."

"Ok," I admitted, "I am coming to terms with that."

"That's better."

"And it is true that I am possibly seeing something that isn't there. Or wanting to prolong the puzzle when there aren't any more pieces left."

"You don't want the game to end."

"That's the possibility. But it is also true that Kerrass has taught me to mind my instincts. To guard my thoughts and feelings and to listen to them. He taught me that these instincts are the last leftovers from our primal lives before we knew about things like the written word and the like.

"The itch is there. It's the same itch that made me insist on investigating Edmund's death. It's the same one that helped me figure out the sleeping beauty riddle and helped push us towards the unmasking of the Jack conspirators. That itch tells me that I'm missing something. I don't know what it is and I am dreadfully concerned that it's going to bite me on the ass. Bite all of us on the ass."

She nodded. "I can understand. What are you doing about this armed man?"

"The watch commander is canvassing the men that were there that night. Sam, Kerrass and Rickard were all there as well so I'm going to talk to them when they get back."

She nodded.

"I'm sorry Freddie. I don't remember this Phineas person that you speak of. When I read about your adventures in the North, I did remember that Elven alchemist."

"Ella?"

"That's her name. Poor woman. She was a torturer and victim at the same time. I hated her and felt sorry for her. So very sorry. What happened to her?"

"Chireadean would never tell me," I replied. "So the last I saw of her was her going off with the Elves after she had killed your sister-in-law."

"Another victim and enabler both." Mother shuddered. "So many people were turned into monsters by that damned cult. Although I cannot mourn the loss of my sister in law. She and I both had the thing in common that we could have done, or said something. And yet we didn't."

She sighed.

"It would seem that I still have a lot of work to do with Mother Nenneke."

"If it helps, I think Ella would have survived. Chireadean is a good man and I think he would have let her go if she showed genuine contrition."

"Hmmm." Mother was unconvinced. "That doesn't change the fact that she drugged children so that their elders could abuse them. Far from entirely… She is far from being the root of evil but she is also far from innocent and I would not weep if Chireadean and the others put her out of her misery. And out of my misery as well for that matter."

Mother's venom left me feeling a little bit dismayed and so silence fell over our table for a while. Mother realised my discomfort and we pushed around the last morsels of food on the plate that were now cold. .

Mercifully, one of the serving staff appeared out of thin air and asked us if we were done and whether or not we might need some more wine or whether or not we would like to look at the menu for dessert. Mother has this running joke whenever she gets asked this question and it is to hold up her wineglass and demonstrate how much wine there was left with a finger and tell the staff that she will be ready for the desert in that amount of time. She finds the joke endlessly funny whereas I find it kind of boring having heard it several times now.

And the waiting staff always give this kind of weak little smirk of a smile as though they have heard the same thing multiple times over now and are not amused by it.

But in this case it seemed to put her back in a good mood.

"So what other questions do you have left over from that time, what else is worrying you?"

"Unfortunately, again, I'm not sure how to get an answer to this," I told her.

"A spare pair of eyes never hurts." She told me.

"That's true." I considered where to start. "Ok, it starts like this. Who gave Edmund the plan to kill Father. Who put the idea in his head in the first place?"

"Edmund was a clever man."

"Sometimes." I agreed. "Sometimes he was and he needed to put his mind to something which he wasn't often inclined to do. Sometimes he was a clever man. But the other thing to be said about Edmund is that he was a fairly direct man whereas the plan to kill Father was quite subtle. It involved planning and careful implementation. It was not exactly something that could be rushed. It took time and effort and… above all, patience. For all of the virtues that Edmund possessed, patience was not one of them."

"No," Mother looked troubled. "No he was not."

"So why that plan? Who came up with the idea and who convinced Edmund to implement it in the first place. We know that it wasn't Cousin Kalayn because he swore that it was not him. AND he also gave all of the reasons as to why having Father murdered was a bad idea. Kalayn and Edmund's branch of the cult were out, by themselves and isolated. Father was withholding inheritance or threatening to, but that is a long way from actually doing that. All that had to happen was that Edmund and Kalayn needed to go to ground for a while. They could even have been really clever about it and arranged things so that it was provable that they were innocent of the matter. But it is also described that someone got to Edmund and advised him about the method to kill Father. Drugs were provided, methods were provided and very possibly support was given.

"And further to that, we also know that when things went badly, Edmund was prone to panic. When Byarby, the old stable-master had realised that Father's gear had been tampered with, he went to Edmund and realised that Edmund was in on the problem. Then he fled, Edmund chased and murdered him. Edmund was about as subtle as a rock to the face."

Mother smirked at the metaphor but I could tell that she was troubled by what I was telling her.

"The other thing is this. Everything starts with Edmund's attack on Father. Or rather it's not, the other possibility is that the reason that this started is because I disrupted Phineas' plans in Angral but that's a different point.

"The downfall of everything starts with Edmund deciding to kill Father. Everything comes back to that moment. From that moment, the cult in the local area is destroyed. Edmund is killed. Cousin Kalayn is caught along with his fellow cultists. Redania changed that night. Many of us think for the better but there were a lot of sons and people that died on those pyres or were given notice that the people in the streets are not going to settle for putting up with this kind of bullshit any more."

"Language." Mother warned but her heart wasn't really in it.

"From Edmund deciding that he was going to kill Father… That led to his death. But following on from that, it led to Sam inheriting in the North, which, in turn, led to the overall destruction of the Cult of the First-Born. Again, a lot of nobles, and a lot of first-born sons were killed in that series of events. The face of the Redanian nobility has changed."

"Do you think that Sam going up there was by design?" She wondered.

"No, I don't." I told her. "I think that Uncle Kalayn meant for Edmund to inherit. Off the top of my head, the wording was "The next legitimate male heir that can … There was some wording to say that Mark couldn't inherit for reasons that I think are fairly obvious now. But there was no way that Uncle Kalayn could have known that you… that Edmund would have been killed."

"It's an odd wording though." Mother said. "It would be perfectly easy to just have Edmund named in the will. You know, by name."

"Yes. But…"

I felt my mind wanting to flow into a whirlpool of mysteries.

"We're not going to find that out now," I said. "Not unless we know which lawyer your brother used to set it up and even then, my understanding is that the lawyer couldn't tell us what was going on anyway.

"But Edmund's actions there, arguably, led to the destruction of the cult of the first-born and the reshaping of the Redanian nobility. Without that, Sam wouldn't have gone north. Kerrass and I along with Rickard and the others would not have gone north. The cult wouldn't have been fully investigated and therefore, some of them might have escaped to continue carrying out their evil bullshit elsewhere. It all comes from that decision of Edmund."

Mother frowned, looking into her wine cup.

"It's a leap." She told me. "It's a big leap to assume that someone was thinking of all of that when they came up with that idea. It could still have been Edmund that did it."

"It wasn't." I declared.

Mother sighed.

"No, I suppose you are right. But on the other hand… It could have either been a very clever manoeuvre, or a very stupid one. If this mastermind was a member of the cult from day one then it was extraordinarily stupid of them to put all of that in place."

"But we know that the plan, or the schemer was not stupid. The only reason that we know that Father was murdered was because you…"

"Because I killed him. And you forced the investigation."

She sighed.

"I will admit," she began. "I will admit that I don't like the idea of all of this falling at the feet of one person."

"Neither do I," I admitted. "And it is a reach. But everything did start here. We know that the plan was a clever one. But who was it that came up with it? Who gave Edmund that push. I don't know."

"Do you have any suspects?"

"Several unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" She smirked.

"Yeah, because most of them will be dead by now. The most likely suspects are another member of the cult who was cleverer than Edmund and Cousin Kalayn. Someone who came up with the idea in order to prove themselves to their superiors, but they were all stoned, drunk or otherwise off their faces with this or that or the other thing going through their systems. Someone who didn't like the idea of lying low for a while and wanted to keep the party going.

"Another option is that it was a member of the cult from the North. Someone who had been sent by Cavil or whoever, to get Cousin Kalayn back into line and stop raising the profile of the cult with these regular attacks. All while also being aware that the North needed money and that Father was the quickest and easiest way of being able to fund the cult with all of the bribes and whatever that it needed to be able to keep it running. They would have an interest in having Edmund inherit sooner rather than later and they might have had the brain power to come up with that without properly knowing about the consequences."

"Hmmm." Mother grunted. "But both of those options are dead or dying at the moment. Do you have anyone else?"

"I do, but he is no better. It might have been Phineas again. We know that he hated us, or hated me and that his desire for revenge had been passed on to the rest of the family. So if Edmund was part of the cult, he could have seen this as one of the ways to get leverage over the family by implicating Edmund and blackmailing him."

"But again, he's dead."

"Yes he is."

We paused again for Mother to order dessert. I ordered some cheese and crackers on the grounds that whatever they had there would be better than anything else that they might have. Mother ordered some kind of fruity concoction that made my teeth ache to look at it.

We ate and made some other talk about the coming wedding and similar kinds of small family talk. She talked a bit about her time in the abbey and told me some small anecdotes about the famed Mother Nenneke. We finished dessert and then we came to the alcoholic hot drinks part of the conversation.

"I must say," Mother began carefully. "That it would be all too easy to dismiss all of this as being out of our hands. That the questions are beyond us on the grounds that the enemies that you are paranoid about are either already dead or otherwise indisposed."

"Not unfair," I commented. "But I need to know. I'm sure of it. I'm sure that this is not over. I'm certain of it but I don't know… I can't prove it. Phineas is another thing.

"The inquisition of three churches and Imperial intelligence have been looking for Phineas Tordril since Kerrass and I came out of the North with the stories of that asshats evil. He's been a fugitive from the council of mages and the Lodge of Sorceresses since long before that as well. But somehow, we just randomly found him after Kerrass found word that he had been involved back in Angral. A witness, in passing at that. And now there he is, we catch him really easily and quickly, we question him and then he is the root of all of the evil that we have suffered. That seems…"

"Too easy." Mother nodded unhappily. "But what can we do about that?"

"I am going to Novigrad after the last of my Witcher lectures," I told her. "Letters have been sent and I am awaiting positive receipts. Emma's meddling made Novigrad really angry for a while but now they are becoming desperate so we expect that their civil authorities will be falling over themselves in an effort to help me. Which is good. I'm going to talk to people, spend some time looking for his house and see if he had a lair or something."

Mother nodded.

"Why so sure something is going on though?" She asked. "I know you've been unwell and all of this might be…"

"It might be that I am looking for a problem that doesn't exist out of boredom, paranoia and nostalgia?"

She nodded.

"The thought has occurred. One way or another, the wedding is happening. Less than a couple of months away now. After which…?"

I shrugged.

"After which, your world will look very different." Mother agreed before she raised her cup. "Here's to that."

I clinked my cup with hers.