Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Silver Soul, Dragon's Heart
by Storm Wolf77415, Wing Commander White Wolf, and Centurious the Azure
Enduring the Maelstrom Part II
"This story has become quite thrilling. It's a welcome addition to our compendium." Aela raised her tankard to Sebastian, who returned the gesture. "Thank you for sharing it with us, Master Witcher. You have certainly earned your place within the halls of Jorrvaskr for this." Indeed many had become intrigued by the story, everyone hanging on to all of Sebastian's words. Even Phoebe seemed excited at the Witcher's story, curious as to what the magic of his native world was really like.
"Don't thank me yet. It's only starting to heat up." Sebastian gave the Huntress of the Companions a knowing smile. "I'll be honest, I was glad Leona left for town when she did. While she is a more than capable combatant, I still worry about her. Now I just had to worry about keeping myself alive and getting out of there in one piece with the Rod. Of course, things never go smoothly in our line of work. And you can't account for every little change and swerve. And believe me, there was a major swerve coming my way."
Certain that Leona was on her back to Oxenfurt, it was time for the real mission to start. I slipped back into the estate grounds, and snuck around to the edge of the barn, watching all the former students file into the open doors, flanked by two Silvercats. They wore heavy long robes in unassuming brown with hoods up. Thanks to my enhanced senses I caught little snatches of their conversation. They were all excited, their revenge was at hand and nothing could stop them. At the back of the line was Franklin himself, his robes were more elaborate, trimmed in gold with splashes of purple.
"We are about to begin, see to it we are not disturbed!" He closed the doors behind him. The Silvercats stood at attention, clearly irritated at being on guard duty. Oh well, that suits me just fine. One thing about pulling guard duty, it invariably leads to boredom, and that means getting distracted. Even if these guys were super competent, they were still men and their attention spans were finite. Clearly, my earlier handiwork left these guys more than a little jaded. Well, they wouldn't have to be disappointed for long. I picked up a rock, and crouched low. Pulling my arm back, I let the rock fly into the distance. The guards were immediately on alert.
One of them went to inspect the noise. The other guy remained at the entrance to the barn. I crouched low, snuck up from behind, and wrapped an arm around his neck, choking him out. I pulled him into the shadows as he slowly went limp. One down, and the other guard was coming back fast. I didn't bother with subtly here. I threw out an Aard and sent him flying, closing the distance, and kicking him in the side of the head for a one-way trip to dreamland. I slid in through the doors, and luckily no one was inside, except for a couple of horses. Good for me, I could make a fast getaway when I grabbed the rod.
The hole leading down into the depths had a crude wooden staircase set up. I sighed, knocking back a Cat potion to enhance my night vision. I drew my steel blade, and advanced into the darkness. It was familiar, ninety-nine percent of the time, contracts end up in dark cavernous dungeons. They must have been carrying torches or candles because there was zero illumination in those tunnels. I finally saw a faint light in the distance. I picked up my pace, not knowing how far into the ritual they had gotten. I soon reached the chamber and the whole scope of the ritual became clear to me.
The chamber was directly hewn from the bedrock itself. It had a rough but elegant feeling to it, clearly they wanted some sense of aesthetics to the place. But what really caught my attention was the ritual circle in the middle of the room, a very elaborate setup of runes that Leona could have probably deciphered easily enough. I saw a man and a woman wearing robes in the black and silver of the Silvercats making a few final touches to it. These were the ones who would actually conduct the ritual. Definitely need to silence them if I had the chance.
An altar stood in the middle of the circle, and upon it lay the Rod of Maelstrom itself. It was even more impressive in person. It was made of a deep ebony wood, a series of old runes carved into it. My medallion resonated in time with the green crystal contained in the circular wooden cage at the top. I could see flashes of lightning within it. My gaze fell on the small podium in front of the altar, clearly meant to hold the spellbook Leona had lifted earlier. I felt momentary relief. The ritual hadn't started yet, but it was clear time was nearly up.
"How much longer until we can commence?" Franklin snapped to the two Silvercat mages, who were drawing an elaborate scrawl of runes along the outer edge of the circle. "I thought you two were supposed to be professionals! Surely you can go a little faster!" By the Divines, this guy was such a little brat! I then noticed the sparks begin dancing off the Rod, good confirmation that the young noble was clearly in the artifact's thrall.
"I'm sure Commander Ransom has told you this, so I'll tell you again, Lord Sabnak, you must be patient." There was a hard edge of irritation in the male mage's voice, clearly, he had to listen to the brat's tantrums for quite some time. "You want this vengeance to go smoothly it can't be rushed. These kinds of rituals are an art form all to themselves. If one little thing is out of place the entire array could backfire and then where will you be?" Franklin looked like he wanted to complain more, but merely huffed, pulling his hood up and joining the rest of his companions.
It was then two of the hooded students entered, carrying the fake spellbook Leona had magicked up. The book was placed on the pedestal in front of the altar holding the rod. One of the mages came up and began paging through it. I couldn't see the mage's face, covered by the hood as it was, but I could tell something was up, given how her jaw clenched in confusion, she began madly scrambling through the pages. "What is this?" She finally said. My fists clenched, time was up! "Is this some kind of joke, Lord Sabnak?"
"What in the hell are you talking about?" He snapped, looking through the book himself. "What the hell?" Franklin began madly going through the pages, almost ready to tear them out of the cover. He slammed it shut, and his eyes bulged in rage. "Redanian Census Data? This isn't the Tome of the Winds!" The cover shifted to a bland, black cover, looking like Leona's illusion wore off. Franklin was in full rage mode now as he chucked it across the room in frustration, more than a few of his fellow students cringed at his anger. "Damn it! Someone made off with it! All of this is for nothing now!"
"Oh, calm yourself!" The male Silvercat mage snapped at him. My stomach dropped as he pulled several rolls of parchment from his robe. "We have everything we need right here. I made it a point to copy the necessary incantations. We can still commence." Remember what I said about unexpected swerves? Just got hit with one of them! Franklin was placated as the mages laid out the parchment and began chanting. My medallion began madly vibrating as the air became heavy with magic. It was so thick even my own senses could feel it. The crystal in the rod let off an ever-intensifying green light. The wide grin on Franklin's face looked eerie in the emerald glow as he stood in the center of the circle. Bolts of lightning arced out farther and farther before they began striking the students something of them grunting in pain. I wasn't sure what the purpose of it was, doubt it was pleasant.
Time had run out. If I didn't do something right now. The university and the whole city of Oxenfurt would be toast. It was officially time to throw stealth out of the window. I pulled out a couple more of bombs. But unlike what I used earlier, these were smoke bombs. The plan was to chuck them into the middle of the room, use the smoke as cover to jump down, grab the Rod, and then get my ass out of there and back to town. A single Igni to the fuses and I chucked them into the middle of the ritual, certainly got the attention of everyone before they went off, covering the chamber in smoke while cries of panic and alarm filled the room.
I took my chance, leaping down from the scaffolding and through the flailing crowd. I didn't waste any time. I was focused on one thing, getting that damn artifact away from this place and these moronic people. The viridian glow of the crystal was my beacon, and standing in the way was Franklin. I couldn't resist, shoving him aside. The little putz had it coming. I was almost there, fingers about to wrap around the rod when the smoke suddenly dissipated. I saw Ransom standing at the entrance to the tunnel, with two more mages. A combination of Aard and some good old-fashioned wind magic ripped my cover away. Just perfect!
Everyone looked genuinely shocked at the fact I had managed to get in. "Carve a picture, it'll last longer!" I retorted, and launched my own Aard, knocking Franklin and some of his entourage back. It was only thanks to well-honed reflexes I managed to parry the blade of one of the Silvercats who had tried to attack me from behind. I ducked beneath another mercenary wielding a heavy steel mace, how heavy you may ask? It split the ground where I had been standing. I threw up a Quen, both of my attackers were thrown back when the shield collapsed as their weapons bounced off. Now it was time for this Wolf to show his teeth!
I leapt into the air for a powerful overhead strike, letting gravity increase the velocity of my swing. The Silvercat wielding a sword barely had time to evade it. The Pouncing Fang is one of the two starter moves all Wolf School Witchers are taught. But being airborne leaves you vulnerable, as I found as the mace wielder made to hit me in the back, that thing would have reduced my backbone to little more than fine powder. I barely had time to raise a partial Quen, the mace bounced off but it gave the sword wielder time to get me with a cheap shot to the leg. Pain shot up and down as I landed in a crouch and rolled to the side. But I wasn't done yet. I swung my blade in a horizontal slash, tracing a figure eight in the air.
The Moonlight Flare, the other starting technique of Wolf School swordsmanship, is good for crowd control. It gave me a little elbow room to throw an Aard out, but the Silvercats raised magic shields of their own, allowing them to withstand the blast. A couple more mercenaries joined the fray, one had twin daggers and the other was wielding a short spear. I was being hemmed in and everyone was starting to recover from the initial shock. My blade swung up diagonally, sweeping into a crescent moon, managing to break my opponent's guard, but before I could follow through I nearly got impaled by the spear user, but I managed to evade it long enough to kick the guy in the face, and bat away his partner's weapon.
I saw a flash of light out of the corner of my eye, and barely had time to avoid being hit by a firebolt thrown at me by the dagger user. Oh now it was on! "So you like fire huh?" Then let me share with you mine!" I fired an Igni, the wave of flame scorching all in its path. But again, the Silvercats protected themselves from the blaze with their shields. These guys really were trained well. I set up another Quen, and crouched low while settling into a defensive stance. The Iron Moon technique is one of the more elaborate techniques in the Wolf School's repertoire. The general idea is that when the Quen is broken, it can stagger any who tried to break the shield. Provided one is fast enough, you can hit them before they can respond.
And that's exactly what I intended to do. I saw the spear user come at me, the tip plunged against the orange glow of my shield. It popped, and sent him flying back, but I wasn't sitting on my laurels this time. I lunged at him with all the speed I could muster, and with two swings of my blade, I carved open his chest before spinning and decapitating him, earning me my first Silvercat kill. Not that I got to enjoy my victory right away, given there were still five other mercenaries to contend with, and in my opinion, people don't respond well when comrades are killed right in front of them. "You mutant freak!" One of them yelled, and they attacked with renewed vigor.
I parried the sword of one merc away from me, throwing out a wide-angle Igni to give me some breathing room. My hand went into my pouch and I came out with a potion, knocking it back in a single gulp. My strength rejuvenated, I chucked the empty bottle at one of the Silvercats who merely batted it aside with his weapon. But also left him open for me to slash across his hip and sever his spinal cord, he collapsed to the ground dead. But the others weren't going down so easily, keeping me caged in. All the while the ritual resumed in the background. Which was really all the mercenaries had to do, keep me from getting to the artifact. Tied up by the other Silvercats, all I could do was look on in horror, realizing I had failed in my mission.
The mages started chanting as Ransom stood next to Franklin. The Rod hummed with power, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. The lightning intensified, and the electric bolts in turn began arcing back toward Franklin. Whatever was going on seemed to be strengthening him at the expense of his comrades, some of who were now screaming in pain. He threw his back and began laughing manically. "Yes! Yes! The power of the storm is mine to command! The people of Oxenfurt will PAY in their blood for letting Trenton die the way he did!" If I had to guess the rod was connecting to its user, empowering him in order to use the massive energies the artifact controlled. I could see what looked like clouds forming overhead.
His hair began standing on edge, and small arcs of lightning began to crackle off his fingertips. His laughing grew evermore. "So this is what it's like to be a god! It's incredible!" This was something I knew well from my training, not just under my mother, but all the way to my most basic lessons as a Witcher. How drawing too much eldritch energy at once can cloud your judgment and create a power high. Franklin Sabnak was riding him all the way to the very top. The rest of his fellow compatriots weren't having the same thrill either. They were jerking and convulsing violently screaming the whole time. Their hoods were coming down, and I could see them looking pale-faced, some were bleeding from the nose and the mouth. They couldn't be much longer for the world.
"Ah yes!" Franklin declared as more and more lightning crackled around him, and I could see clouds forming overhead. "My ascension to glory is almost complete!" I would have never admitted it to anyone else in that moment, but I truly felt like we had lost in that moment. And then I heard something I didn't expect, the sound of steel cutting through flesh. To my disbelief, and Franklin's as well, Ransom had run him through with his own sword, a cold sneer on his face. The poor kid could only look in confusion as the blade was pulled out. He tumbled to the ground dead and now the lead mercenary stood in the middle of the circle, absorbing the energies from the Rod.
The former students could do nothing as the Silvercat mages kept chanting, their boss taking in the power of the Rod of Maelstrom for himself. Many of them let out a final scream before they all vanished in a flash of lightning and were sucked into the green crystal, about to explode with power. Lightning bolts washing over the Silvercat commander, unlike Franklin he didn't laugh maniacally, but the mad leer on his face told me all I needed to know. Ransom stood, reveling in his new strength. "Oh shit," was all I could say in that moment.
"Shit indeed." Ransom said, walking with slow, deliberate steps. "That little idiot had no idea of what he was getting himself into, but then again what illiterate moron usually does? But folks like us?" He indicated to him and I. "We know full well what happens when you fuck about with curses and magic artifacts. Having some good magic users on the payroll to properly research everything makes all the difference as well. They learned of the Tome of the Winds and how it would be needed to awaken the Rod's power. Good idea to make off with it and swap out with the fake by the way. But I had them copy the part with the ritual we'd need, just in case."
"Oh you're real proud of that, aren't you?" I said, my grip tightened on my blade. "So you have the Rod of Maelstrom's power now, what are you going to do with it? What does a sword for hire need with so much power?"
"Oh simple, it's right there in my name. I'm going to demand a huge ransom from both the chancellor of university and the city fathers themselves or I flatten their whole little town into so much rubble!" His voice reverberated with the power coursing through him. "Trust me, it won't be hard! The biggest payday I'll ever get!" He was right, it wouldn't be hard. I wasn't sure what would have happened if Franklin had control of the Rod's powers, but Ransom knew exactly what he was doing, and he had most of his fellow mercenaries at his beck and call. My mission to retrieve the rod had failed, but I had learned what I needed. It was time to cut my losses and get out of there.
I discretely pulled out two more bombs. "You really think they'll roll over that easily?" I asked him, eyes flickering back and forth. "I'll admit your people are well trained, but there's no way in hell they'll accede to your demands. They will fight." I subtly lit the fuses. "So go fuck yourself!" I flung both bombs. The first exploded releasing a cloud of metallic slivers. Ransom grimaced. Dimeritium, a special metal with anti-magical properties, is often used in cuffs and shackles to keep magic users from using their powers. Witchers created bombs that could temporarily disrupt all magical abilities for a short amount of time. That, combined with the smoke bomb I flung out a second later gave me enough opening to duck between the Silvercats and make for the entrance.
I knocked back another potion to enhance my speed as I ran through the corridor back to the barn. I chose the first horse I laid eyes on and burst out of the mansion and into the night back to Oxenfurt. The ride seemed even longer than I remembered going there. But I soon reached the eastern gate, where Leona stood waiting with a couple of the city guards. She had changed into her short-sleeved dress from earlier in the day. "Sebastian!" She cried out, running up as the guards helped me down from my mount. "Oh, what happened?"
"I'm sorry." I rasped as I was supported by the soldiers. Between the crushing combat, and using a pair of potions in quick succession had taken a severe toll on my body. Both of them looked at me with sympathy. "I failed to get the Rod and stop the ritual. The whole thing has spiraled out of control, Leona. It looked like they sacrificed the students to power up the Rod. The Sabnak kid is dead, the mercenary commander killed him in the middle of the ritual." I winced as the pain finally caught up with me. "He has control of the Rod now!" Leona cupped my face in her hands, her smile reassuring as always.
"It's okay. Let's get you patched up first, and then you can tell me everything." She made a single gesture to the guards who carried me into the guardhouse. Leona's primary branch of magic is light-based, which includes healing. I sat in a chair and she wasted little time, the warm golden glow from her hands washing over my injuries and letting the pain recede. "Okay, start from the beginning, tell me everything, and leave nothing out." She took hold of my hand, gently stroking my cheek.
"They dug a ritual chamber with a runic circle underneath the barn. The Silvercats did most of the work it seems. They had a couple of pure mages in their ranks, and they were the ones who oversaw the ritual itself." I shook my head. "And they were way smarter than we initially thought, Leona. Your little book theft was a good idea, but it barely slowed them down. The mages had already copied down everything they needed for the ritual to work." I could tell Leona wasn't pleased by this turn of events. But I continued. "The students were all sacrificed for the ritual, they were all sucked up into the crystal. It seemed to be needed to awaken the Rod's power."
Leona bit her lip again and nodded. "I read through the Tome of the Winds when I got back to town. That's exactly how it works. It alludes to a storm needing a breeze to get started. In simpler terms, The more people sacrificed to power up the rod, the bigger the resulting storm will become." That was bad news, given there were about a dozen of them, the storm created would certainly be powerful enough to ensure Franklin would get his wish, and the city flattened. "Tell me, were the students sucked up into the crystal?"
"Like a bunch of cheap Cintran noodles. I'm not sure if they're still alive or not, but given how much pain they were in beforehand. I wouldn't put too much money on it." It was probably better if the former students were dead. It would be Aakinder end that way.
Leona put a hand on my wrist. "You said the commander of the mercenaries killed Franklin in the middle of the ritual. What did you learn about him?"
"His name is Ransom, and this is the big thing, Leona. He's a Witcher like me!" Leona gasped, clearly not expecting this turn of events. "Ransom was trained in the Cat School, and I really should have seen it from the start. I mean Silvercats, it's right there in the name! It would take the blindest, deafest fool who knew nothing about Witchers not to make the connection. His men are very well-trained trained, managed to counter several of my moves. They were able to keep me tied up and he was able to seize control of the Rod's powers for himself. He knew exactly what he was doing from the outset."
"So what are his intentions for the Rod of Maelstrom? What could he do with it?" Leona asked.
"Paraphrasing the man himself, it's in his name. He intends to demand a large amount of cash from the university and the city in exchange for not calling down a maelstrom to level it. The biggest payday of his life he called it." I coughed violently. "Leona, he's going to come here with his men, and I doubt he'll be in much mood for talking. If we're going to do anything about this. We need to act now." Leona's brow knitted together, as her blue eyes let off a brilliant shine.
"Captain, ready your men." She finally said to one of the guards who had brought me in. "It will fall to us to keep this city safe." The captain of the guard looked uneasy, but his mask of professionalism remained in place. He slightly bowed to her and ordered the other guard to rally the troops from the barracks. In the meantime, Leona and I went to get our proper combat gear on. We were going to need every advantage going forward.
"I did mention there'd be a big swerve coming." Sebastian didn't need to say much else. "Franklin was so lost in his own delusions, that he didn't consider that Ransom and the Silvercats would have their ulterior motive. All Ransom had to do was wait for the right time, and then usurp his position." He shook his head. "I want to say on some levels that I felt sorry for him, his friend had died and he didn't know how to process it. Ransom preyed on that anger, and the kid and his friends paid the price. He was right about another thing, he was much better able to control the effects of the Rod without losing himself to it. It would mean he'd be an incredibly dangerous opponent to face."
"To think he'd use a powerful magical artifact and threaten an entire city just to earn some coin. I never had a very high opinion of mercenaries, and this reinforces that notion!" Emma sounded incensed, before remembering what was the Companions' primary source of income. She squeaked once, looking apologetically to the other Companions. "No offense to any of you, but I don't imagine anyone would try to dig up some ancient magical weapon to willingly threaten and exploit entire cities all over a payday!"
"None taken at all, Miss Millstein," Kodlak reassured her. "Despite how we dress it up, the Companions are a mercenary organization, but we do have a firm code in place, such actions would never be allowed, and I'm sure all here would agree with me." Every one of them gave a sober nod in agreement. Laura herself didn't say anything, but her feelings on the matter were evident, given the cross-looking frown on her face.
"The Harbinger is right, and I'll admit that I'm a sword for hire myself when you get down to the bare bones of it," Sebastian added. "Men and women gotta eat and keep their weapons and equipment maintained. It's how we do the job. But getting back on track, Leona and I notified the Chancellor of the University about this turn of events. The poor guy was about a step away from a heart attack. It was clear the Silvercats were on the march, dark clouds were forming overhead the closer they got to us. We were standing in wait for when it would start."
I was now clad in my usual combat attire, both swords secured to my back. I had taken them to the local blacksmith and gotten them both sharpened. Leona also donned her combat attire, a suit of light armor that hugged her body, colored white and trimmed in silver and gold. Her hair held up in a bun, with her estoc at her side. She was a true lady of war. At our backs were about twenty members of the Oxenfurt City Guard. The guys all looked less than enthused at the prospect of fighting the Silvercats.
"Why should we even be here? We don't need to deal with a bunch of hired killers." One of them groused. He clearly had been hitting the drink, more than a few of them looked like they were nursing varying degrees of hangovers. I guess when the worst thing you have to deal with is the occasional drunken brawl, the idea of taking on professional soldiers isn't very enticing. "I'd rather be in bed." I was about to give them a piece of my mind when Leona beat me to the bunch. She marched up to them, a harsh gleam in her eyes. Leona had no time for a bunch of drunken louts.
"Let me ask you, soldier, do you have a family waiting for you at home?" Her voice was firm and sharp. It automatically made me think of my adoptive mother, Triss Merigold. In her capacity as Head Court Mage of the Kingdom of Temeria, she had often led troops into battle when required, and was quite the capable commander. Clearly, Leona had been taking lessons from her on how to motivate the troops. The soldier just looked at this slight girl in front of him, but I knew better. He grunted, nodding slightly. "Do you see the giant storm forming over us?" She pointed a delicate manicured finger upward at the dark clouds forming overhead.
"What's your point then?" The guard snorted, only for Leona to get in his face and look him square in the eye.
"Then you realize if you don't stand with us, that storm will destroy this entire city, and kill everyone in it! You are part of the Oxenfurt City Guard, short for Guardian! You and everyone else here are the guardians of this city!" She then spoke to all of them. "So all of you need to shape up, sober up, and start acting like it!" Everyone stood up a little straighter at the harshness in her voice. Yeah, I think she got her point across.
"The lady brings up a very good point," I said, deciding to take a softer approach. "The city you call home is in danger. I doubt you'd ever want anything to happen to your families." My gaze wasn't as sharp as Leona's, but it held a hard edge regardless. Luckily the guards were now much more aware of things. A few of them just gave slight nods. "So take up your blades, and stand with us. We are all that is in the way of these men who would destroy this city if they don't get what they want. So let's go to work."
Leona smiled at me, and we led the guards out of the gate. We had good timing because the Silvercat Mercenary Company was approaching. Ransom stood at the head of his forces. The Rod of Maelstrom clenched in one hand, his eyes sparking with power. The rest of the Silvercats all looked ready for a fight. From their normal warriors to the mages, and their mage knights, the desire for battle burned in their eyes. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling the anticipation myself. It wasn't often I crossed blades with my kind, and if Ransom was as capable as what I had seen of him. Then I'd see his true strength soon enough.
"So you're Mr. Ransom?" Leona's lips twisted in disgust at how my fellow Witcher and most of the male Silvercats leered at her. Sometimes being a gorgeous woman had its disadvantages. Regardless she wasn't dissuaded. Worse came to worse, she could deliver her patented Stormcloud Slap on them. "I understand you have a message for the leaders of Oxenfurt?"
A sinister chuckle emanated from Ransom's lips. "That's right, sweetheart. I demand two hundred and fifty thousand crowns from the University and City of Oxenfurt. If they're not delivered to me in twenty-four hours." He brandished the Rod of Maelstrom, the crystal crackling in tune with the ever-growing storm overhead. "Well, do I really need to give you a demonstration? Actually, don't answer that." He raised the magical artifact to the sky, huge forked gouts of lightning stabbing out. He pointed at a nearby open plain.
The flurry of lightning bolts converged in a single point on the ground, causing a huge flash of azure light to wash over us. I grabbed onto Leona, holding her as a tremendous blast was kicked up. As the light receded, I winced at the once verdant grassland, which turned into a smoking charred landscape. Ransom just stood there, looking smug. "I trust I got my point across?" Yeah, he did. You didn't need a real fancy education to know what would happen if those lightning bolts had struck the city, nothing would have been left standing, add in torrential rains and maybe a couple of good-sized tornados, and Oxenfurt really could be annihilated.
But Leona wasn't backing down at all. Instead, she merely drew her estoc, pointing it at him. "We won't be intimidated by criminal threats! You may think you have the Rod at your control, but it's not a guarantee that you'll prevail!" I said nothing, merely drawing my own steel blade, and glaring right at Ransom, who also seemed eager for the fight. The City Guard and mercenaries all shifted uneasily. I raised my blade into the air, and brought it down. A cry from both sides rang out as a lightning bolt flashed in the sky. With that, the battle was joined. The sounds of steel ringing in the air.
I sent a single gaze to Leona, letting her know I'd handle the big guy in charge. She just looked back at me, her lips twitching upwards in a slight smile, walking right past Ransom toward a trio of Silvercat mages. The two of us wordlessly drew our steel blades. Ransom embedded the Rod of Maelstrom in the ground, guarded by a pair of the beefiest, brawniest men I ever laid eyes on. "Personal guards?" I asked, noting how they stood rigidly at attention, their eyes stony and unyielding.
Ransom just smirked. "But of course, they've been with me since my time in Redania. In fact, how about I show you some of what I learned from them?" He slipped into a ready stance, his sword held above his head, angled down and back at a forty-five-degree angle. It was a style I knew quite well thanks to my time under Mark. It was the Silver Eagle Style, the most prolific sword form in the whole kingdom, and taught to all soldiers of the Redanian Army. Relatively well balanced in attack and defense but emphasizing physical power. That was fine, I settled into my own attack stance, and we both lunged at each other. Our blades intersect with a shrill whine of metal grinding.
The lock broke, and he swung low at my legs but I flipped backwards. Using this momentum to swing upwards myself. Only to see the telltale orange glow of Quen. I braced myself, knowing what was coming, given how many people I had sent flying with this maneuver myself. The tip of my sword popped the bubble, creating a shockwave and knocking me back. But I managed to land on my feet. Good thing because it gave me enough time to parry Ransom's massive overhead attack that would have left me with a splitting headache. Yes, you may groan at the bad joke. It was time to bust out the good stuff. I chucked out an Aard at him, but he canceled it with his own Aard.
It was a powerful one, easily on the same level as something Mark or Geralt could throw out. Of course, the Rod could have been further strengthening it. But I wasn't about to let this dissuade me. Oh no, I was just getting warmed up! I blasted him with Igni, only for a quick burst of rain to put it out. Ransom's teeth gleamed menacingly as he held out his free hand. The clouds the rain came from dissipated. But the storm continued growing overhead. He came at me again, our blades crossing inches from our faces. I went for a Moonlight Flare, but Ransom leapt back.
Of course, I wasn't going to let it end there. I unleashed a move I hadn't used earlier. The Wolfpack Blitz is a high-speed technique that allows the user to cover ground very quickly, useful for striking many opponents at once, or as a variation on a theme, attacking a single opponent from multiple directions at once. Granted since I was using it on a fellow Witcher it does lose some of its effectiveness, as Ransom managed to block or parry a couple of my swings. But I still drew first blood on him, managing to slice across his bare left arm. It was satisfying in its own way. Ransom hissed in pain, throwing out a wide strike which I couldn't evade in time, the tip of his sword cutting through the top layer of my jacket. "Now we're even!" He snapped at me.
Now Ransom got to show off some of his Redanian techniques, I tried to strike at his right hip, but he easily parried it, sidestepping into a powerful sweeping counterstrike I was only able to defend against by throwing up a hasty Quen. He followed that up with a massive two-handed strike that would have sliced me into two pieces of dead meat if I hadn't crouched low and blocked with everything I had at that moment. He threw out an Aard, and then another bolt of lightning courtesy of the Rod, still guarded by the beefy goons. One thing about the Silver Eagle Style, while it produced considerable power, it suffered from a lack of mobility. In most circumstances, it wouldn't be an issue for a Witcher to counter it, but being a Witcher himself, Ransom had incorporated much of the Cat School's own footwork. This meant he moved with a greater speed and agility, fitting for a feline.
Ransom continued his onslaught, moving with a ferocious precision that would have felled lesser opponents long ago. I made use of my own light feet to try and keep ahead of him. "What's wrong, Little Wolf? Not up for facing down the bad Cat?" He said mockingly. I saw him crouch down low, his blade held over his shoulder. "I guess you need some motivation then!" My jaw nearly dropped as I saw a small cyclone form around his blade. He swung downward, and I felt a sharp gust of wind come at me, all my senses and training kicked in and I dropped to the ground. I looked behind me at a good-sized boulder, a diagonal cut formed and the top fell away, cleanly sheared. Ransom chortled, smugness abounds in his eyes. "I love this thing, making me capable of doing this shit!"
"So what?" I shot back, the smug grin vanishing. "I can do the exact same thing!" I held my blade parallel to the ground, it began to shine a little more than normal. I spun in place, and hurled the same windy projectile right back at him. One of the more powerful Wolf School Techniques is called Storm Blade. You channel the energy from an Aard into the blade and swing, releasing a razor wind of my own. It's one of my favorite moves. Ransom grunted, clearly, the Cat School didn't have its own version of it. He cracked his neck thusly.
"Heh, so the little Wolf has some bite in him after all? Okay then! Let's change it up!" He shifted his stance, his blade held in one hand above his head, the blade horizontally above the head, and pointed to the side. His body was half twisted, with the off-hand swept across and down. My stomach dropped to my feet for I recognized this style as well. Ransom had shifted to the Imperial Black Sun Style, created by the very first Emperor of Nilfgaard. A truly vicious style that required significant mental discipline on the user's part. The fact Ransom had learned it was proof of how far he had advanced in the Imperial Army, given it was only taught to a select group of people in Nilfgaard at a time.
"I hope Leona's faring better than I am at this moment!" I grimaced as Round Two was about to start.
In truth, Leona had her own hands full. Three of Silvercat's mages now faced her down. She looked at them with disdain. "Lowering yourself to acting as simple mercenaries. Where's your pride as a mage?" Her eyes were hard as steel as she gazed at them, but the sorcerers in black and silver just gave their frigid glares back at her.
"Ransom pays us well, and we're allowed to pursue our research with no restrictions whatsoever." The lead mage replied, pulling out a gnarled-looking staff with wicked runes etched on it. The mage on his right, raised his hands, embers of flames beginning to coalesce while his companion on the right held up a single hand, a swirling ball of ice forming in her palm. "He's given us the means to ply our craft without fear of reprisal, and so we do our duty for him!" His staff began emanating a brilliant sapphire light.
I suppose the display would have been intimdating to others, but not to Leona. She was fully confident in her skills, Keira Metz is one of the strongest magic users I know and she taught Leona everything she knew. None of them said another word to each other, they would communicate with their magic. Leona raised a hand, firing a bolt of silvery light at them. The other mages all raised their hands, chanting as they conjured up a shield of milky white energy to protect them, her spell splashing harmlessly off it. She made a silent note of how fast their casting time was. It made all the difference in a duel such as this.
The first mage came forward, staff in hand. He held it up and a bolt of azure energy lanced out from it. The second sent out a whip of flames, while the third tossed out a roaring gust of icy wind. But Leona was quick with her silver shield wrapping around her in a round bubble, a lot like Quen really. She raised her hands to the sky, conjuring up three golden orbs of energy that swirled overhead before crashing down on her opponents. The lead Silvercat mage was quick to repel them with three glowing blue orbs of his own, intercepting Leona's projectiles.
The pyromancer mage used this as an opening, conjuring up a massive fireball to launch at Leona. Only for her to hold up her hand and halt it in mid-air. Another wave of her arm sent out a powerful concussive force in all directions, sending the fireball to impact against a large boulder. She was about to release another trio of golden orbs, only for the ice user to form a spear of solid water and flung it at her, forcing Leona to abandon her casting and start madly evading.
The pyromancer pulled out a nasty surprise on Leona, a massive carpet of flames erupting upwards. I'm familiar with this particular spell, Firestorm, it lives up to the name, conjuring up a huge field of fire that burns all caught its vicinity. Fortunately, she's way quicker than that, leaping and rolling to avoid becoming a barbequed filet. The flame mage threw a couple of fireballs and then conjured up the biggest fireball I had ever seen. Fully intent on turning Leona into cinders in the wind. But my girl had it under control. Remember that big icicle spear from earlier? She telekinetically snatched it out of the air and chucked it toward the Firestorm, the ice melted, putting out the flames and causing a huge cloud of steam.
Leona raised her hand again, this time a series of spectral-looking silvery daggers emanating a purple light fell from the sky, landing around the frost mage. A runic circle formed underneath, and a blast of the same purple light flared upward. The mage screamed in agonizing pain as the light burned them. The light faded, leaving a charred piece of meat and tattered robes. The now-dead mage fell to the ground. Although Leona didn't have time to admire her handiwork. Turns out the Silvercats didn't appreciate someone killing their comrades. The fire mage conjured a sword made of flames and rushed at her, swinging madly in revenge for their fallen compatriot.
I could only catch glances while dodging Ransom's strikes, but Leona moved on her toes with practiced grace, almost gliding over the ground. Her ballet training was coming into play now as she effortlessly avoided the clumsy swings of the flaming weapon. She let loose another area-wide concussive blast, knocking the pyromancer back. She held up a hand and a shaft of golden light formed in her hand. But then movement out of the corner of her eye forced Leona to drop the spell as the first mage launched a massive barrage of blue-colored sorcerous blasts at her. Leona was only able to partially raise her shield in time before they connected, causing a huge blast, and throwing up a massive cloud of dirt.
The head mage just sneered, satisfied the little blonde upstart had been put in her place. But then his senses flared. He conjured up a shield as a spray of golden knives flew from the dust cloud. His grip on his staff tensed as Leona strolled out of the dust cloud, not a hair out of place and just a slight bit of dust on her armor. "Really? You thought a cheap move like that would take me out? Think again. But I'm afraid your other companion wasn't so lucky." With a sweep of her arm, the dust cloud dissipated, revealing the flame mage lying there dead.
Leona marched toward him, her eyes brimming with power. "I am the apprentice of Keira Metz, Royal Mage of the court of King Foltest of Temeria and you are just dirt to wipe off my shoes!" Wow, she wasn't messing around. The last of the Silvercat mages grimaced, but he wouldn't beg for his life, mage pride, and all that. He brandished his staff again, madly waving it about and letting loose a huge barrage of magic spears. She responded with a spray of her own spears, colored gold and silver. The projectiles collided in mid-air, exploding in a flash of light.
She had broken into a run, estoc now in hand. Leona was looking to finish this in a single blow. But the Silvercat still had his claws. His staff twirled in his hand, batting the thin blade aside. Leona twisted her body to avoid being clubbed on the head. She went for another thrust but was met by a flash of blue as a massive spectral greatsword formed around his staff. Training and reflexes kicked in and she backflipped out of the magic sword's range.
Leona mostly preferred her spellcraft, but she was a more than capable duelist. Her technique was more fencing-based, requiring a deft hand and precise footwork. In this case, Leona's dance training would serve her well. She elegantly sidestepped a clumsy thrust, running manicured nails along the length of her blade, it took on a golden glow. A whole bevy of spells had been created for enhancing the power of a weapon, often some mage knights took up the craft just to learn them. My girl was no exception.
They exchanged a few blows, trailing blue and golden light as they did so. But it was clear Leona had the upper hand through it all. She dominated the fight, dodging one way while her estoc found holes in the other mage's defense, managing to get him just above both of the knees. He cried out in pain, stumbling to the ground. The spell broke out as his staff clattered to the ground. The last thing he saw was Leona's golden estoc burying itself square into his chest, a dismissive frown on her face. She withdrew her blade and the mage fell dead.
Leona sighed. Now that the immediate threat was over, she took in the sight of the battle unfolding around her. The Silvercats were proving they really lived up to their reputation. They were carving into the City Guard with practiced ruthlessness, but the guards were not backing down. Her earlier words gave them enough resolve to not let the city be destroyed. She looked upward, the storm was still there, the winds circling about as if the tornados were just waiting to be released on the hapless townsfolk below. Her grip tightened on her estoc, no one would die on her watch. Leona looked over her shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Another Silvercat mercenary approached her, dressed in medium plate armor, his face obscured by the armored helmet he wore. This was the company's head mage knight. He said nothing, merely pointing his sword at Leona in challenge. It didn't matter if she was a woman, he had come for a fight and deemed her worthy as such. She merely saluted at him, swinging her blade in an X-shaped pattern in the air, and brought up her blade vertically in front of her face, showing her challenge had been accepted. The two of them circled each other and their battle began.
In the meantime, the second phase of my battle with Ransom had taken a turn for the worse. The Imperial Black Sun School of Swordsmanship was said to be one of the strongest sword styles in existence and I can say the hype is very real. As I said, it's a highly aggressive form, a series of brisk, staccato movements. It fit Ransom very well, it was like facing down a charging monster. His blade slashed in multiple directions. Which was typical of the Black Sun style, compared to a creature with many limbs attacking all at once.
I was alternating between parrying, blocking, and the occasional Quen to keep my defenses strong. While also using the speed of my footwork to keep ahead of Ransom's devastating strikes. One came eerily close to taking off my head. I used a flare of Igni to force him back, and then hit him with another Blitz. He rewarded me with another of those annoying wind cutter blades, cut through my sleeve, if I had been just an inch to the right, my whole left arm would be gone. I tried another Aard, but he ducked and rolled to the side, his steel blade coming right at my throat. But I managed to block it just inches from my jugular.
The lock broke and I swung upwards with a Moonlight Flare, which he easily deflected and came back with a heavy overhead strike. My blade wasn't able to fully get up in time, and the blade came across my shoulder, luckily it didn't get in too deep. Out of desperation, I kicked him back, putting us at square one again. Ransom went back on the attack, smashing at my defenses with all the subtlety of a rock through a window. I tried Iron Moon, but he was wise to it, leaping over me to slice through my Quen in midair, evading the knockback.
I tried to catch him when he landed, but I was met by an Aard enhanced by the power of the Rod. A chilly wind knocked me clean off my feet as he leapt in the air, looking to stab me right in the chest. I rolled away and he kicked me while I was down. I quickly popped down another potion for a recharge. My blood was starting to get up, so I tried an Igni, but he simply evaded that as well. Another Wolfpack Blitz and I managed to hit him twice before he jumped again. I smirked and used Aard one more time, this sent him higher than before. I surprised him by pulling out my crossbow and shooting him. Even if he did knock the bolt away, He didn't miss the second one, which managed to get him in the knee.
He landed in a crouch, wincing in pain. Ransom pulled out a potion of his own and he was in my face yet again, carving a double slash in the form of an X, followed by him leaping to the right when I tried to use Moonlight Flare on him. His blade thrust out, managing to catch me on the arm. He then used a technique similar to the Wolfpack Blitz, hitting me from all directions, A judicious use of Aard and Quen kept me from being skewered. He then threw a punch at my head just to be a dick. I shoved him back and saw the razor-sharp edge of his blade coming toward me.
I tried to meet it with Crescent Break, only for him to shove my blade toward the ground, nearly causing me to lose my grip on the sword and my hands along with it! Ransom gave off a mocking laugh. "I guess the little Wolf just got defanged! Clearly, you see you can't win against me!" His voice resonated with power even as he threw another barrage of strikes at me. The shift to Black Sun had put me on the back foot. Lesser combatants would be dead by now, and even I was starting to falter under Ransom's aggression.
So I pulled a page from his playbook. The Wolf School created its own unique sword style, but it also had information on other styles as well. Mark had taught me a Temerian style called the Blue Mountain. It's all about defense. It uses tight bladework and subtle dodges to create an invisible zone of protection for the user, all the while tiring an opponent out until an opening was made through an error on their part, and opening up for a swift counterattack. I was never happier to have paid attention to those lessons at that moment.
My sword flashed in an unbroken series of tight motions, every second attempting to keep this zone of protection while using as little energy as possible. A true master of this technique would be extremely frustrating to overcome. As Ransom was finding out firsthand. He tried using the same overhead technique he had used on me earlier but now that I had settled into the mountain, I wasn't going to let him keep at it. I swung my blade upward, knocking his own weapon back. I raised my hand and shot out the old standby Aard. Such a simple move, but so effective when used properly! Ransom struggled to keep his ground, his leg buckling just enough for me to get a hit on him, slicing across his stomach, and leaving a tear in his jacket.
Oh, that was so satisfying! Ransom snarled, blasting me with lightning again. But I raised my steel blade, coating it with a Quen this time, and using it to reflect it back at Ransom, who hastily threw up his own shield. Our swords met again, all the while my fortress of steel remained firm.
But that's not to say that Blue Mountain is perfect. If anything the downside to the style is that its emphasis on defense meant it had no real offensive maneuvers. The user had to wait for his opponent to tire or get frustrated, but the longer the fight went on the chance this could backfire on the defender. Luckily I had the Wolf School techniques to fill that void, one in particular would be perfect for this. I halted my weaving defense, Ransom wasn't sure what to make of it, but he wasn't about to let an opportunity just pass him by.
"Say goodbye to your head!" He rushed me. I sidestepped to the right, my leg came up, and stomped down on his sword into the dirt. I thrust my hand out and gave him an Aard at near point-blank range, which sent him flying back about fifteen feet. The Night's Wind is a difficult counter move to pull off but with good timing, you can evade the enemy's weapon, force it into the ground, and leave it open, either for a fatal stab or use a sign like I did. Why didn't I stab him right there? Wasn't exactly in the best position to do that.
Ransom quickly sprung to his feet, snarling incoherently as he launched more lightning at me. Well, I don't think he liked that very much, too bad! I tried something different, combining Aard and Igni. The gust fueled the flames, and the wall of fire rushed at Ransom. His eyes widened in shock. I saw a Quen, reinforced by a shell of lightning bolts surround him. Hmm, interesting way of using the Rod to supplement his signs. But it wouldn't be enough to save him. I built on my earlier move, running my hand down the length of my sword, infusing it with not just an Aard, but an Igni as well.
This move was inspired by my fellow Witcher and brother-in-arms, Ezra Kanitz. He had a thing for fire and created his own variant of Storm Blade called Firestorm Blade. A single swing and everything in its vicinity was reduced to cinders and ash. I let out a piercing howl, a tribute to my school's namesake beast, and swung with all I had. Ransom's eyes widened in disbelief at the massive wall of fire bearing down on him. It slammed into his shield, crackling like an egg. I dove behind some rocks to evade the heat. But a crack of thunder resounded overhead, like two giant iron panels slamming into each other. I saw the rain fall and I knew my attack had failed.
I poked my head out to see Ransom standing there, singed all over but still alive. His chest heaved up and down, clearly, he didn't have a lot of of fight left in him, but he wasn't ready to give up. "You." he rasped, pointing his blade at me. "Are really pissing me off!" His free hand began crackling energy more intense than anything I had seen up to this point. Ransom was about to release the full power of Rod of Maelstrom on me. "So I'm just going to roast you!" The biggest lightning bolts I ever saw erupted from his hands forking toward me.
The world slowed down at that moment. The craziest thing about it was that I wasn't afraid. A strange calm came over me. My steel blade returned to its sheath, and I pulled out my silver sword, running toward the mercenary commander. I held it at the ready and swung through the lightning bolts as if they weren't even there, splitting them in twain, and slashing upwards through Ransom's chest. I came back the other way, and swung downwards, the blood flowing as I finished by stabbing through his gut.
He almost looked surprised that it had happened. Ransom stumbled about before falling to the ground. How about that? The local boy pulled out a win! The two mercenaries guarding the Rod didn't seem to believe it. But I just glared at them, challenging them to try and avenge their boss. Both of them just looked at each other and walked away. And with that, the storm began to recede. With Ransom dead, the link with the Rod was broken. I flicked the blood off my silver sword, luckily it hadn't snapped at all from the strike.
I looked over at where Leona was, fending off the Silvercat's head mage knight. Leona's style was known as the Golden Moon, created in Cintra for use by the nobility. It was a fencer's style, based on deft precision with the blade, making use of thrusting jabs, light parries, and shallow cuts over the heavy-hitting slashes and chops used by styles like Silver Eagle and Imperial Black Sun. Footwork was crucial in both attack and defense, usually following a straight line back and forth. But the downside is didn't leave much emphasis on striking and evading from angles.
Not a problem at all for Leona, Her ballet training made up for this deficiency. She moved lightly on her toes, weaving in and out from the mercenary's heavy strikes, while lightly batting the blade aside and thrusting in whenever she saw a chance. A perfect contrast between their respective styles. It was one of the most beautiful displays I had ever seen in my entire life. The mage knight's flared blue, much like what the full mage had done earlier, but he clearly had a better idea of what he was doing, but Leona easily riposted around it.
Another downside of the Golden Moon Style is the fact that it can't really defend well against a more physically capable opponent. Silver Eagle or Black Sun practitioners could easily overwhelm their defenses with sheer brute strength, but Leona had an extra advantage, as she made use of the Blue Mountain Style's protective circle technique to defend herself. Yeah, during our training together, I taught her some of the Blue Mountain to give her a stronger defense, and she picked it up very quickly.
Leona quit playing around, lightning danced along the length of her estoc when she went to jab one more time, catching her opponent in the side, his entire body spasmed and he thrashed about violently. The mage knight tried to slice her in half at the waist, but she pirouetted underneath the strike. She rolled gracefully on the ground, estoc thrusting upward twice along his left wrist and leg. He winced dropping his blade before Leona stabbed him in the throat, as he fell dead. She looked almost bored as she did so. She smiled at me, confident we had won, but then her smile turned to a look of sheer terror and she screamed.
I looked and saw Ransom on his knees, bloodied, and ravaged, but alive. I saw the two empty phials on the ground. He had knocked them back when I wasn't looking. He staggered to his feet. But the anger was gone. Instead, there was a calm gaze. He closed his eyes. "I'll admit, you are quite the skilled opponent. I haven't had a fight like this in years." He adjusted his stance once again, looking like a cat crouched down ready to set upon unexpected prey. "No more fancy stuff, just two Witchers trying to kill each other!" So it would come down to a battle of pure swordsmanship.
Wordlessly, I drew my steel blade once again. We saluted each other and our final duel began. This was Ransom in his true form, with no pretenses of being Redanian or Nilfgaardian. Now he was a Witcher of the Cat School, our movements weren't as graceful as Leona's, but we moved with a fluid speed and precision that few could hope to imitate. The song of our blades rang sharply across the dying battlefield. He then leapt high for an overhead strike, the Aerial Slash, the Cat School's answer to the Pouncing Fang. I parried it and threw out a Crescent Break, but he met it with a four-strike combo of his own.
A Moonlight Flare was met by a slanted downward strike and a low stab to the gut, which I barely avoided. Now I was about done with all this nonsense. I was going to end this fight right here and now. Ransom unloaded a five-hit technique on me. I rolled backward and Ransom charged, for a big overhead strike, looking to finish it himself. Shifting my steel blade to my off-hand, I drew my silver sword, and crossed them overhead, catching his weapon between them. With a single kick to his gut and lost his grip. My face betrayed no emotion as I held my crossed blades at his throat and decapitated him in a single move.
His head fell forward and his body in the opposite direction. Leona walked up to me, before throwing her arms around my neck and giving me the biggest kiss possible. A cheer went up from the Oxenfurt City Guard. Ransom was truly dead now, and the city was safe. Leona smiled at me. "Want to get some dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm hungry!" It had been a long night, and I was starved as well. The two of us walked back to town, just wanting to rest after the whole ordeal.
Sebastian paused, taking note of how riveted everyone was at the finish of the battle. "A Witcher does not normally engage in combat with both of his swords, each of them has their unique purpose. It's simple pragmatism, given how fragile the silver sword really is. I've said that more than once, but on the other hand, Nothing is truly off the table when you are in a fight for your very life. Simon Dooku, our first Grandmaster, knew this very well. So he created a two-step finishing combo that made use of both swords." He crossed his arms over his head. "The Twin Fang Block, taking the steel and silver swords, you catch your opponent's weapon between them."
He made a springing motion with both his arms. "You then push upward, throwing them off balance and then." Sebastian swung both arms out, and everyone instinctively knew what that motion implied. "They become a little bit shorter."
"Off with their head!" Fianna summed it up.
"Off with their head, indeed. It's called the Kiss of Silver and Steel, very poetic. I don't make regular use of it, but my fellow Witcher Ezra Kanitz, he has that combo down to fine art, because he is a full-time dual wielder. He carries two steel blades along with his silver sword and that's how he finishes most human opponents. That version he calls the Double Steel Kiss, but it's the same basic principle."
"It does make for quite the finishing maneuver, and that was quite the story!" Aela spoke up, clearly satisfied with the tale shared at Jorrvaskr's table. "You did a great service for the people of Oxenfurt, Master Witcher. I'm sure they all were aware of what you and Lady Leona did and were grateful for you. To that we raise our glasses!" All at the table held up their tankards. "To the Witcher!"
"To the Witcher!" All proclaimed, slamming them on the table. Sebastian held his own mug raised to the rafters, looking around at the Companions and the others sitting there. They all looked at him with admiration and respect. Phoebe and Emma smiled, their eyes shining with adoration. Fianna winked at him. He stood up, and looked around at these people he had just met and felt incredible gratitude.
"I'm glad you all enjoyed my little tale then. To wrap things up, both Leona and I were highly honored by the people of Oxenfurt. We both received a very nice chunk of change, twelve hundred crowns apiece. I was given a brand steel sword, which I needed pretty badly, and on top of it, gained a spiffy new title, Storm Wolf, which should be pretty obvious." Sebastian sat down, taking a long drink. "With Ransom dead. The remaining Silvercats were arrested and executed, and life in Oxenfurt moved on. Leona and I stayed in town for a couple of weeks to rest and just enjoy each other's company." He recalled it fondly.
A few days had passed since the battle. Luckily there wasn't much damage to the city. It was a quiet evening, the sun was going down and the people were returning home. Leona and I had rented ourselves a small flat in a prosperous neighborhood, just so we could have some solitude. I stood at the window and looked at the world in front of me. Witchers are looked at with suspicion at best and fear at worst, but that didn't matter right now. I had Leona and that was all I really needed to be happy.
"Hey, Honey. I have a surprise for you." Leona's honey's warm voice caressed my ears. So I turned around and my jaw dropped. There she stood in a sleeveless leotard the same shade of blue as her eyes, showing off a generous amount of her ample cleavage, silvery white tights adorned her long, lithe legs, and pink ballet slippers covered her feet. While her blonde hair hung loose and free. She kicked her right leg up and balanced effortlessly on the other leg. "Ta-da! What do you think?"
"You haven't lost your touch," I said upon finding my voice. My eyes drinking in everything about Leona at that moment. Her leotard fit her perfectly, hugging every one of those magnificent curves. My eyes zeroed in on her chest, heaving against the restraints of the tight blue material. A perfect contrast with her golden hair and flawless skin, all capped off by the adoring smile she wore. "Leona, that get up."
"Is the exact same thing I was wearing the day we first met!" Leona chimed in a singsong voice, still balancing like it was nothing. She blushed slightly, before dropping her leg and spinning once to show off her exquisite rear end. "I was going to show it to you after our little chore was done. Do you like it?" She really did not need to answer that question. That memory was forever burned into my mind. I reached out to take her hand and kissed it, eliciting a playful titter.
"Of course I do. What brought about the nostalgia?" It was then Leona's face became sad, and she reached to embrace me. Purposefully digging her chest into mine. Age-old instincts kicked in as I stroked her hair.
"Because I missed you." She said softly, looking into my eyes. "You saved Oxenfurt and you deserved a special reward." Leona cocked her head slightly, the playful smile returning. "I can't imagine you'd say no to me in a tight leotard cuddling you." Damn that woman sometimes. She knew me too well. She squealed happily and wrapped her legs around my waist as I hoisted her up. The two of us shared a gentle but passionate kiss. The money and the sword were nice, but a kiss from a golden-haired maiden was the best reward I could ever get.