"Poor boy, look at all that blood! And your pretty face all cleaved open by this evil baddy here. Now you're going to snuff it and can't even say good-bye to your precious princess - let alone save her from this old devil. Isn't that a dastardly horrible thought to die with? I really feel for you. Not enough to put you out of your misery, of course. No, I hope you're in a hell of a lot of pain right now, like you deserve. After all, you had the audacity to believe you could fight and kill me - me, Leo Bonhart, the best sword fighter on the continent! I've killed several witchers, as you know, I showed you their medallions. Should've taken to your heels when I told you to, stupid boy. I didn't bear a grudge against you personally, none at all. But standing in my way to get back what is rightfully mine - not yours - has changed that. Can't let anybody do that without having them pay - with their blood.
It's truly amazing how poetic those scarlet splatters look, isn't it? The artful contrast of dark red with the white of the marble statue's plinth. If I were a painter, I'd surely get out my canvas, oil colours and brush and immortalise your corpse for posterity. But, alas, I'm not. Guess you'll die and rot here, all alone and forgotten. There's your destiny. Not even your princess will mourn or remember you - not after the treatment I'll give her.
You put up a good fight, my young blade, I give you that. Even managed to draw first blood. Don't think anybody's ever succeeded in doing that before. It was fun besting you. But, unfortunately, I can't stay to watch you breathe your last. I've got a prior engagement with one Cirilla of Cintra. So, farewell, Sir knight! See you in hell!"
He mock-bows toward the mortally wounded warrior lying at the foot of the marble statue. He is bleeding profusely from the ugly gash in his face and the even uglier wound in his chest, and barely conscious. Whether or not he is lucid enough to understand any of this good-bye speech, Bonhart does not know, and neither does he care. The knight is nothing to him, just a nuisance that cost him a few minutes on the way to his prize. However, there is nowhere Cirilla could go. She is his and he will have her, hard and dirty and from behind, like the bitch she is. Taunting the dying man while inhaling the tantalising smell of iron in the air from his blood has been an exciting foreplay. He can already feel his hardening erection press against the leather of his pants. Yes, he will be ready for the princess.
A wolfish, evil grin playing around his cruel lips, Leo Bonhart, the most infamous bounty hunter on the continent, exits the chamber with the bloodied statue of an unknown goddess, leaving the knight behind to die.