They stepped out into a dark and rather cramped space that smelled of decay. The portal closed behind them and she looked around to see where her intentions had landed them. To the left and right of the small room, two openings led to small balconies outside. On one of them, she could see the shining white bones of a skeleton.
"Any idea where we are?" she asked, hoping somehow that Geralt would find this place familiar.
"Mhm, I've been here before. It's an abandoned tower called Drahim Castle."
"The name must be a jest. It looks nothing like a castle," she scoffed and saw him shrug.
"It's just a name. People give these places whatever name fancies them, if it matches or not is less important. Anyway, don't take offence, but weren't you supposed to know where you were taking us?"
He stepped onto the balcony with the skeleton, and she followed.
"How could I? I've never been here before. I only formulated my intention to take you where and when Ciri needs you after the battle of Kaer Morhen, with the amendment that the place of arrival should be a safe and secluded place where our portal wouldn't draw any unwanted attention." She leaned on the balustrade next to him. "I assume this was the closest place that matched the criteria I set."
They were almost at the top of a tower that overlooked the countryside. Under the mellow autumn sun, the scenery looked magnificent and a light breeze blew, bringing with it the salty smell of the sea. Far ahead, a small lake and a little settlement sat between fallow fields and small patches of trees with golden rusty leaves. Smoke rising lazily from the chimneys quietly announced the presence of inhabitants. Further in the distance, rolling hills acted as a backdrop to the rural image and somewhere to the right, a great river flowed; on it, a few wooden vessels drifted slowly.
Just below them lay a wide dirt road that winded down to the left of the tower where another larger settlement could be seen and beyond it stood the tall fortified walls of a great city.
She pointed to the building that sat on the side of the lake. It looked so picturesque that she hoped it would be their destination.
"What's that?" When he didn't answer immediately, she looked to see him slightly flustered. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, it's just that..." he sighed and rolled his eyes, "it's an inn... and it's called Cunny of the Goose."
She couldn't repress a snort of laughter that turned into a loud howl. He sat still with one corner of his mouth curled up and his hands crossed over his chest, waiting for her laughter to subside.
"Somehow I knew you'd react like that," he said when she finally settled.
"Sorry, but people here indeed name things whatever they like, all else be damned." She let out another short chuckle but stopped almost immediately. "Sorry, it's a bit immature of me. You caught me off-guard, that's all. Promise I'll keep my composure from now on," she said in her most serious voice.
She looked around once more, then back to Geralt with a questioning gaze.
"So... do you have any idea which way we should go now? Where Ciri could be?" She drew a breath and bit her lip, trying not to laugh again. "You think she could be staying at the Cunny Inn?"
"No," he answered seriously, ignoring her childish behaviour. "It's more likely she's there." He pointed at the glimmering stone walls of the city. "I have a friend in the city and she is likely staying with him."
"Then I guess we should start walking. It doesn't look to be far and maybe, with a little luck, we'll make it before nightfall."
They went back inside and started climbing down a ladder that led to the storey below. Geralt went ahead, and she followed him.
"What's the name of the city?" she looked down at him, still hanging from the ladder mid-way down. "Just please tell me it's not something as inventive as the inn by the lake. I'm not sure I'll be able to keep a straight face if it is."
"Oh, no, nothing of the sort," he answered with a smirk. "It's called Novigrad, and the country we're in is Redania." He grabbed her waist to help her down when she was just a few steps from the floor. It wasn't necessary, but he rarely missed an opportunity to be close to her. His care earned him a grateful look and a swift kiss on the cheek. Had they been in different circumstances, she might have offered more, but she had no intention of spending the night in a cold, mouldy stone tower filled with rot and human remains.
"After you," she gestured to the next ladder.
"Don't tell me you're afraid," he taunted her.
"Not at all," she gave him a mischievous smile, "I just thought you'd enjoy staring at my bum as I climb down after you."
He grinned and climbed down the ladder, looking up at her.
"I'm not sure if you coming along was such a good idea. You might prove to be too distracting. It's hard to think of anything serious when I'm looking at your ass."
"Alright, alright, next time I'll climb down first to spare your thoughts any serious effort," she quipped back and started descending the last storey. Once down, she stepped back to make room for him to climb, but he ignored the ladder and simply jumped down, then looked at her with a smirk and shrugged.
"I don't know why, but smugness looks very appealing on you," she said, eyeing him up and down before turning towards the entrance of the tower.
She took a deep breath of fresh air and glanced at the road in front of them, eyes wide in full admiration of the beauty of nature.
"It's truly remarkable how beautiful and peaceful it is. It's so quiet too. All I can hear are birds. So strange not to hear any cars, planes..." Her sentence was stopped short by his gloved hand covering her mouth. He shushed her, his mouth close to her ear, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin. Her first impulse was to ask what was the matter, but she bit her tongue and kept quiet. He must have had a good reason to silence her. Her ears perked up, hoping to catch whatever alerted him, but she could hear nothing.
His other hand gently coiled around her waist and pulled her back towards the dilapidated tower.
"Stay here and out of sight," he warned her after he guided her to the right of the door frame. He put a finger over his lips, signalling her to remain quiet as well.
He quickly stalked back outside and onto the dirt path. In a matter of minutes, she heard hoofbeats on the hard, cracked soil. Riders, two of them by the sound of it. Curiosity was eating at her, but remembering the look in his eyes was enough to keep her in place even when she heard the sharp sound of blades clashing against each other and men's voices screaming.
"So much for admiring the quiet beauty of nature," she thought with a hint of sadness. At least none of the voices screaming was Geralt's. Only a few moments later, the only sounds she heard were horses whinnying. She peeked her head to see if it was safe to come out and was met by the sight of Geralt splashed with fresh blood and leading two very docile horses by the reins.
"You never told me if you can ride a horse or not," he said as he approached. She looked at him with apprehension as he gently patted one of the horses. "They're tame, but I've taken extra care to calm them with an Axii sign." He looked at her, still expecting an answer.
"Yes, I can ride, but not well, so go easy on me," she finally answered and took the reins of one of the horses and patted him down the side of the neck. It was a beautiful animal, but it hadn't been cared for properly. She sighed and got in the saddle while he wiped the blood off him as much as he could and mounted the other horse.
They led the horses out of the small courtyard and onto the main road. Next to the dirt path, laid the mutilated bodies of two men - the former owners of their current horses. Even if she was sure he hadn't killed them on a whim, her expression was sorrowful when she looked at Geralt.
"They were bandits," he explained as they moved at a slow trot around the bend in the road. "I've known for some time that some of their ilk haunt this crossroad, harassing whoever crosses their path unarmed. The war has kept the soldiers and guards busy and they have no time to roam the country roads dealing justice to all the thugs and opportunists." He looked at her, unapologetic. "These two won't rob or rape anyone else." She nodded and continued to follow him.
They rode side by side until the road narrowed, being closed off on both sides by wobbly and crooked wooden fences that signalled their entry into a small village. The path was too narrow for them to ride alongside each other, so she let him take the lead and followed behind him, all the while looking left and right at the people and the scenery.
The buildings were sparse, screamed of poverty and the difficulties of war, yet the people still took care to decorate them as best they could. Cheerful, painted red flowers bloomed on the sides of doorways and windows despite the cracked plaster and the patched-up roofs. Thatched roof barns sat along the better cared for wooden shingles of cottages.
The people paid them no mind, instead, went on about their business as usual, women washing clothes in large wooden tubs filled with sudsy water, children playing, one man was fixing a post on a fence, another making pottery in his front garden. The sight of them trotting down the road was nothing special; the villagers were used to seeing all kinds of strangers coming in and out of the city of Novigrad.
She heard the clatter of metal coming from the side and saw a troupe of armoured guards patrolling the road. Their colours were red and white and they carried spears, while a few carried swords and shields that showed the profile of an eagle painted in the same colours. The guards eyed them with suspicion until Geralt lowered his hood and nodded to them. There was recognition in their eyes, and some of them even nodded back. Following his lead, she lowered her hood as well, thinking that keeping it up might attract more attention and make her look like she had something to hide. To her relief, none of them took any special notice of her.
They rode slowly through the village, aiming for the city walls that loomed over it. A wide bridge separated the small settlement from the town and when they reached it, she felt the presence of a magical aura and once again rode parallel to Geralt.
"Is there a ward over the city?"
"Mhm," he nodded. "Radovid had wards placed over Novigrad and Oxenfurt to impede the use of powerful spells. My Signs aren't affected, but portals won't work and other magic might trigger an alarm."
"Does anything else get by, except your Signs?"
He shrugged. "You'll have to ask Yen about that. She's one to know. Until then, I'd advise you to restrain yourself, just in case."
"Of course. I wasn't planning on being flashy, anyway."
"When we get to the gate, let me do the talking," he told her in a hushed voice. She nodded and looked ahead at the burning pyre at the side of the gate. It felt like a warning to all who entered. She turned to him with a questioning gaze.
"King Radovid is going through his own witch hunt, much like the Inquisition of your medieval times. It's even more reason to keep your head down. No one is safe from his pyres. They burn witches, mages, alchemists and herbalists without a second thought, and when they run out of them, they turn to the non-humans in the city. The witch hunters are a scourge that no one can escape. Not even me."
"What qualms would they have with a witcher?" she asked incredulously.
"Mutants fall into the same category of dangerous rabble in their eyes. I'm lucky they need me to periodically cleanse the sewers of drowners or rid the city of some other monstrosity that made its lair here. That way I keep my head above water and they leave me alone, but it's still better if I don't stir too much trouble or attract too much attention to myself."
"I see. I'll try to do the same. Don't want to draw too many eyes to myself and by extension to you."
He gave her a grateful nod and advanced towards the guards manning the gate. For a moment, she thought they would pass unbothered, but her hopes were soon dispelled when a large guard barred their path with a hand extended in front, signalling for them to stop.
"Halt! Do you have a pass?" the man asked her, ignoring Geralt.
"I..." she began without knowing exactly what she should say and forgetting she was supposed to stay quiet. Fortunately, Geralt intervened before she babbled any nonsense.
"She's with me," he said as he rummaged through his bag, looking for something. "I have her pass here somewhere."
"She's not going anywhere unless I see a pass. I don't care who she's with. Although knowing you, perhaps I should call the witch hunters to make sure she's not a witch. Just to be cautious. You've been known to keep their company often."
Fuck! She had barely been here an hour, and she had already stepped into the fire figuratively, and if she wasn't careful, she would step in it quite literally.
"Here it is." To her amazement, Geralt produced a piece of paper from inside the bag and handed it to the guard. "She's no witch, she's an architect from Vizima, here to supervise the reconstruction of The Chameleon. She's here on Master Dandelion's behest. I just provided her with safe passage." He shot a glance at her. "It's dangerous for a woman to travel the countryside alone."
The guard took the pass from Geralt and skimmed over the writing, nodding.
"Aye! All seems to be in order. You can pass." The guard moved out of their way and beckoned them forward.
She guided the horse without rushing, taking her role as the witcher's ward seriously and smiling warmly at the guard, who looked at her with skeptical eyes. It made her wonder if she had said or done something wrong or if this was the natural distrust that came with the job. It would serve her well to observe their customs so she could blend in better.
They turned right on the first street once they passed the gate. She noticed that beyond the normal guards, there were also soldiers and another two types of guards with different uniforms, the only common point between them being that they all contained some red in them. "Redania, how very literal of them."
The buildings in the immediate vicinity of the entrance were a little sturdier than what she had seen in the village. They had plastered stone walls and multiple storeys and they were crammed together in the space-saving medieval style where each square foot of land was of utmost importance. This left narrow streets between them, but still wide enough to ride a horse through them.
They advanced slowly and with care, trying not to trample anyone, for there were plenty of beggars and drunkards in the streets. There were also small stalls run by merchants peddling various wares, all beckoning them to buy one thing or another. Somewhere down the street, a priest robed in red and white held a sermon for the small crowd gathered in front of him.
They stopped in front of a building that had a stage outside where musicians played and a woman danced to the rhythm they set. After they dismounted, Geralt led both horses to the stall across the street from the building and paid the stable boy to care for them. He glanced around at the other horses housed in the stable until his eyes settled on a bay mare. A wide smile bloomed on his lips, so genuine and full of happiness that it made her envious that it was caused by something other than her. In a few quick steps, he was next to the horse, who was already whinnying happily at the sight of her master. He gently patted the side of the mare's neck and touched his forehead against the horse's coat. Although she saw his lips move, her ears couldn't pick up the words, but she liked to imagine that he was whispering reassuring words to his beloved animal. It was nothing short of sweet.
He soon returned to her side and, placing a light hand on the small of her back, he nudged her towards the entrance of the inn, past the few people who sat outside listening to the musicians. It was still light outside, and she imagined that the crowd would become much larger and rowdier once the sun set.
"Roach is here. That means Ciri is here too," he whispered once he was by her side. They moved through the small crowd gathered in the street and her ears picked up hushed words.
"The White Wolf's returned," whispers reached her from gawking passersby.
"'eard he set straight the Sermon killer," another replied in a hushed tone, "we can walk at night again, thanks to 'im."
Her heart swelled with joy upon hearing the praises addressed to him. It was good to know he was well-loved. He had painted such a grim picture for her that she thought they'd be met with nothing but scorn everywhere they went. But apparently, at least some people appreciated the good he did for the city. Perhaps this world was not as hateful as it first seemed.
