"...and so the course that these two witchers would take was set. For most of the year, they would travel the Path together. When winter came to the Continent, they would return to their respective Schools as was tradition. The sharing of tales and lore with fellow witchers and training initiates was an essential part of their trade. Our two heroes would not come together every year, of course; sometimes the Path would take them apart. Destiny would not have them parted for long, however, and they would come together again.
The next few years would be of little note for Riordan of Undvik and Akari of Lyria. We crossed paths once or twice, only briefly, but it was a pleasant surprise each time.
In the wider world, tensions were rising in the North. Neither Redania nor Temeria was particularly happy with the newly formed triple alliance of Aedirn, Dol Blathanna, and Mahakam. Even my beloved Toussaint was beginning to consider joining this new power bloc, as it lay just over the Yaruga River from Aedirn. But, could either Redania or Temeria trust their old rivals?
More notably, the Nilfgaardian Civil War had essentially burned itself out inconclusively. A new conflict was flaring up thanks to a rising religious cult; the Creed of the Living Sun. This was an extremist, revolutionary sect of the former Empire's state religion, the Cult of the Great Sun. It revolved around one Ser Kotyan Styhr, a knight-errant who claimed his great deeds for the common folk were at the behest of the Great Sun. First peasants, then nobles, joined this new movement. Eventually, they would declare a crusade against all non-believers, causing an alliance to form against them, plunging the South into war once again.
As for who were the true believers and who simply saw it as a means to an end, well, I cannot say for sure, dear reader, but it was an encounter with this new faith that marked the next major chapter in the journeys of our heroes. It would be another of history's many unfortunate examples of witchers being caught up in events of a world not their own…"
-excerpt from "A True Accounting of the Storied Careers of Riordan of Undvik and Akari of Lyria", by Nadia Lantana of Beauclair
20th July, 1298 IC
Azureport, Nazair
The Count of Azureport's castle sat high atop a tall bluff that looked out over the Great Sea. It was not far from the walls of the coastal town for which the county was named. The fact that the garrison of the castle could rain arrows down on Azureport while remaining out of range was no lost on Akari. It was an imposing structure of dark stone, with siege artillery facing in all directions on broad towers. Not just worried about Skelliger raids, then.
Akari and Riordan were being led up the curving path from Azureport by none other than the Count's steward, who had not even deigned to give his name to the witchers. The man was flanked by two guards in red surcoats. Off to their left, the waves from the Great Sea crashed against a cliff. Seabirds called to each other, but these were not distant. In fact, there was a veritable flock of them lining the road up to the castle.
It was most likely because of the corpses.
Every one-hundred feet or so, from Azureport to Castle Mwyrdon, was an impaled body. Some had been young, others old. Some wore the homespun clothes of peasants or laborers, others the nicer linens and cottons of wealthy commoners. Akari was surprised to see the fine silks and satins of a noble on one body. The one thing every last one of them shared was the image of a sunburst branded into their foreheads. At a quick count, Akari noted about twenty in total.
Flies swarmed the corpses. Seagulls picked pieces off of them, fighting over eyes and tongues. They had all died within the past couple of days, Akari decided.
"Lord Steward. These people were followers of the Living Sun, weren't they?" Akari asked their guide.
The apparently nameless steward barely turned his head to reply. The sleeves of his bright green doublet were comically puffy, which combined with tight-fitting breeches to make him look like some theater company's parody version of a noble buffoon. He was rotund, with almost no neck and small, beady eyes, overall rather looking like a frog.
"Indeed." Was all he said in response before turning fully forward once more.
"Fucking prick." Riordan muttered, too low to be heard by anyone other than Akari over the sea, the wind, and the birds. The wound dealt to his face by the Woeborn had healed into a long, deep scar that left a break in his fiery beard.
"Acts like one because he doesn't get to use his own." Akari replied.
Riordan guffawed, causing the steward to glance back with disdain.
They followed the steward through the castle gates. Grooms took everyone's horses. Inside the castle's walls, more red-clad guards were training, including a group practicing a shieldwall. There had to be more than one-hundred soldiers sparring, marching, being berated by old sergeants. If one included the guards on duty in the town and on the walls, it was more than a lord would need for a standing guard force.
The Living Sun movement must be a real danger, then. Akari thought. Or, at least, the Count believes it is.
Word had spread far and wide of Sir Kotyan Styhr, the lowly knight-errant turned theocratic demagogue, now titled "The Knight-Prophet of the Living Sun." The entire kingdoms of Ebbing and Nilfgaard proper had both declared for the Living Sun, and if rumors were to be believed, Azureport was far from the only place where religious violence was occurring among the former vassals of the Empire. All that was beyond a witcher's purview to care about or affect, but it was still good to keep appraised on things.
Frog Steward led brought the two witchers into the central keep. The fineries of paintings, tapestries, and carpets were lost on Akari and drifted past like leaves blown on the wind. Everyone with money did variations of the same crap to aggrandize themselves. It all seemed pointless to Akari. All the money wasted on ornamentation could have been spent improving defenses, outfitting troops, solidifying trade routes. Why waste it on a painting of…she looked at the nearest one…on a painting of some naked woman holding an apple in front of her 'lady's flower', as the poets liked to say.
Actually, upon further consideration, that was one painting Akari wouldn't mind having.
After they had gone up a spiral staircase, Frog Steward led them down another plush hallway, through what appeared to be a cluttered personal study, and out onto a semi-circular balcony that was high enough to peer over the walls and at the Great Sea beyond. As always, that vast, deep expanse made her uneasy.
She'd been a child during the voyage from Fuso and didn't recall much of it. The remnants of the School of the Tiger had saved their pitiful refugee fleet from sea monsters more than once during the journey. The price for their aid had been a tithe of new recruits to rebuild on the Continent. Both Akari's parents had died in the crossing. Even though she hadn't been old enough to really understand what she was doing, Akari had volunteered, out of some youthful, idealistic concept of saving other children from losing their families.
Most of her memories from back then had been burned out by the Trials. The feeling of loss remained, and though witchers couldn't really feel fear, the unease at the sea remained, too.
Two people were seated on the balcony, the high backs of their wooden chairs leaving only a pair of platinum blonde heads visible. Frog Steward held up a hand to stop the witchers, then took a step out onto the balcony.
"The witchers Akari of Lyria and Riordan of Undvik to see you, my lord." Frog Steward announced.
"Approach." The person in the left seat said with a lazy wave.
Frog Steward stepped aside, gesturing the witchers to obey.
Akari and Riordan stepped up, staying near the balcony railing until they came around into view of Count Otlan var Medwyk. The man was in his fifties, which made his blonde head rather surprising. In fact, there was much about the Count that gave an impression of a robust, vigorous man. He had the healthy tan of a man who rode and hunted often, the strong frame of a warrior, and a dashing, lantern-jawed countenance. None of the silk and lace of a noble was to be found on Otlan. He was clad in an arming shirt and plain, padded breeches, as if ready to don armor at a moment's notice. Perhaps he was.
In the other chair, beyond a small table laden with a tea service and little pastries, was a woman in her early twenties. She wore a burgundy dress of muslin and lace with a modest neckline and long sleeves. Akari saw some resemblance with the Count in the young lady's aquiline nose and high cheekbones. Their eyes were the same green as well. Pretty, Akari decided, but she wasn't in the habit of getting tangled up with nobles, especially those related to potential employers.
"Witchers. Your prompt response is appreciated." Otlan said. His tone was neutral for now, neither sneering nor respectful.
"We're more than happy to hear you out, lord." Akari said, professional and to the point.
"Of course. You are, no doubt, aware of our troubles with the Living Sun?" Otlan asked.
To put it lightly. Akari thought, the impaled zealots fresh in her mind. "Yes, lord, we are."
"Those fools lining the path to my castle actually approached the gates in the open and demanded I surrender my seat to one of my knights three days ago. Can you believe that? And that's only the latest foolishness from these zealots." Otlan recounted. He drank from a goblet that Akari suspected did not contain tea.
"Our code dictates political neutrality, lord." Riordan grunted the old line.
It was false, of course. There was no witcher code, though talks of establishing one had been kicked around since the Second Conjunction. It was simply an easy excuse.
Otlan scoffed. "Ah, yes, as so readily displayed by the famed Geralt of Rivia, fighting for Foltest and helping assassinate the king of Redania, among other things." He narrowed his eyes at the witchers. "Don't insult my intelligence. Luckily for you, I'm not asking you to hunt the Living Sun idiots, though I suspect this job might put you in conflict with them. You see, the event that prompted the mob to believe the Living Sun was with them was the fact that my constable in charge of rooting them out was found dead in his home, his body desiccated and scorched. He was the second person to die this way. The first was a priest of Kreve who was urging his faithful to castigate these zealots. Now the people are sure the 'holy Sunslayer' will avenge all wrongs against the faithful."
"Your guards haven't found anything?" Akari asked.
"No. And now the idiots are too scared to investigate it properly. It's ridiculous, having to resort to this, but such is life." Otlan said with a shrug as if he hadn't just insulted the witchers he meant to hire. Akari preferred outright hatred to such casual dismissal. "Name your price."
"Name your budget." Akari replied, "...my lord."
Otlan did not seem amused. He haggled back and forth with Akari for a couple of minutes before settling on an acceptable price. Throughout the negotiation, Akari noted that the woman she assumed to be the Count's daughter was rather unabashed in staring at Riordan. At first, Akari thought her friend was staring back, but then she realized he was actually looking longingly at the pastries sitting between the two nobles.
Oh, Giant. You truly are hopeless. Akari thought, concealing a smirk. She should have known better. Though he'd never admit it, Riordan only had eyes for one person.
"Do you still have either of the bodies of the previous victims where we could examine them?" Akari asked.
"Constable Jaan's body is awaiting burial by the undertaker. You may examine it to your heart's content. My guards can show you where the murders took place." Count Otlan said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must resume a very important conversation with my daughter."
"Of course, lord." Akari said.
The witchers allowed Frog Steward to guide them back to their horses, then left the castle after receiving appropriate directions for what they needed to investigate.
"Desiccated, he said. It could be a noonwraith, but those aren't common in settlements. A vampire drinking all of someone's blood could leave them dried out in a such a way, but then why would the victims be scorched?" Akari thought aloud.
"Dunno. Maybe it's something new." Riordan posited.
"Could be. Or, maybe, we're thinking too hard. It could be a mage or a priest of the Great Sun. Both of them could do what was described, with spells or divine invocations." Akari reasoned.
"Got a bad feeling." Riordan said.
"About what?" Akari asked. That was out of the blue.
"About the job. Bad feeling. Dunno why." Riordan muttered.
"Great. Now I have a bad feeling, too." Akari sighed.
The rode to Azureport in silence.
Akari and Riordan went to the scenes of both deaths and inspected the body of the Constable as well. The cadaver had been exactly as Count Otlan had described. After thoroughly going over every last possible detail, they were able to come to a definitive conclusion.
"So we know fuck all about what happened here." Akari groaned, sinking back into her chair with a creak.
"Mhm." Riordan confirmed as he used a small, curved knife to shuck an oyster. He added vinegar with a little spoon once it was open, noisily slurped the meat from the inside, dropped the remnants in a metal bucket beside his chair, then took another oyster off the table to repeat the process.
The two witchers were sitting on either side of a table in the room they were sharing on the top floor of the Brass Bass. The windows were open, letting a cool crossbreeze blow through on the otherwise hot, humid night.
"No strong traces left behind, no witnesses to be seen, just a dead man looking like a strip of jerky and no leads." Akari rubbed her eyes. Their medallions had reacted to the body, but that merely told them magic had been used, which wasn't that helpful.
Shuck. Drip. Slurp.
"Seems so." Riordan said.
"So even though the most likely answer is, in fact, someone using magic, we don't even know where to begin searching." Akari complained further. "I guess we could try to get in contact with the town's criminal elements, but how are we going to make inroads there without making it into a bloodbath?"
Shuck. Drip. Slurp.
"Good question." Riordan said.
"If you eat another one of those in front of me without saying something useful, I'm going to use Aard to blast you out of a window." Akari threatened, feeling anger rise in her belly. Sometimes, she wasn't pleased that she had taken so well to the Trial of the Grasses and, as a byproduct, had ended up less desensitized to emotion than most witchers.
Riordan's knife paused halfway to his next oyster.
"Azureport's not Vizima. It's not Novigrad. It doesn't have that many people. Bet we could count the number of magic users on one hand. We figure out which one of them's close to the Living Sun. Might not be in plain sight, but the fact we're looking around might make someone act stupid." He raised his brow as if waiting for permission.
Akari made a reluctant "go ahead" gesture.
Shuck. Drip. Slurp.
"You're right, but it's probably not going to be that simple. I have a feeling if it was, the Constable would have figured it out before getting fried." Akari reasoned, folding her arms. "We'll ask the castle about mages and priests tomorrow."
There was a knock at the door.
"Did you order more oysters when I wasn't looking?" Akari asked.
Riordan, who was tipping the contents of yet another one into his mouth, shook his head carefully.
Letting a breath whistle out of her nose, Akari said, "enter."
The door to the room opened. Two cloaked figures entered, both of them wearing chain and boiled leather underneath. They carried swords at their sides, but had no weapons in hand. All the same, both witchers were on their feet in an instant, Riordan pulling his steel seax from his side, Akari drawing her wakizashi.
The new arrivals stayed near the door, making no move to advance.
A third person entered, wearing a fully encompassing grey cloak and a voluminous hood that hid all their features. When they were inside, one of the two bodyguards, for that's what they had to be, closed the door.
"The windows, too, please." The new arrival requested.
Akari and Riordan shared a look. The former shrugged. In these close confines, a single blast of Aard would be enough to make the outcome of a fight a forgone conclusion. Riordan closed the windows, leaving Akari to hope this conversation wouldn't last long. It was going to get stuffy in there quick.
The newest arrival pulled their hood down, revealing none other than Count Otlan's daughter.
"Master Witchers. Father didn't introduce us properly. My name is Renata, and I've come to offer you a trade." The noblewoman said, her voice so airy that the sea wind would have carried it away if the windows were open.
Akari was immediately on edge. This was exactly the sort of backroom dealing that ended with angry employers and angrier mobs.
"What trade?" Riordan prompted. He sheathed his seax, replaced it with the shucking knife, and immediately began eating oysters again. Based on the look on Lady Renata's face, she no longer held much interest in the big witcher upon watching this.
Saved yourself some trouble, my lady. Akari thought.
"My father was right. This investigation will lead you into conflict with the Living Sun cult. They never meet in the same place twice, but I can tell you where and when to find them next. I can even lend you the aid of a few soldiers." Renata explained.
"I think we're both going to need a little more detail." Akari insisted. She sheathed her shortsword.
"I know all of this because…", Renata folded her hands beneath her cloak and closed her eyes, "...I am the reason the cult exists here in Azureport. The Solar…that is, a priest of the Living Sun, came to me several months ago, seeking sanctuary. And, at the time, I confess I was receptive to his message of a world of peace, where all can be what they wish under the Sun, regardless of birth."
Her Ladyship seemed to expect judgement for this revelation. Neither witcher cared.
"So, you're part of the cult. Or were. What changed?" Akari asked.
"Ser Kotyan calling all devotees of the Living Sun to a crusade. Word of it reached us a month ago. The cult began putting up posters, painting symbols on walls in town. Then they attacked the priests of other faiths. That's when father's troops began stepping in. And…well, you've seen how its escalated." Renata sighed. "It's grown beyond my ability to stifle. If the head isn't cut off, the body will cause much more bloodshed. Solar Feollach is who you're after. He is the one using divine magic to kill the Count's men."
Akari furrowed her brow. This was too clean. Too easy. She may have been better than Riordan at reading people, but that didn't mean she was an expert.
"What's your price." Riordan demanded. He had finally stopped eating.
"When it's done, you'll take me away from here. I can't live under my father's roof anymore." Renata said.
There it was.
"No." Akari and Riordan said at the same time, almost immediately
Renata actually took a step back in shock. "Wh-...What? What do you mean, no? Don't you want to find the killer?"
"Aye." Riordan said, and he stepped around the table. Renata's bodyguards moved forward to intercept him, hands on their swords. "You've made three mistakes. One, telling us you know what we want to know. Two, assuming these two would be enough of a threat to scare us. Three, thinking either of us give a damn what happens to you."
"How…How dare…?!" Renata tried to splutter, even as she backed against the room's closed door.
Akari jumped off Riordan's points. "Never mind us, my lady. If you can't stifle this cult, how long until someone tells your father you're involved? How long before you end up on a stake? Do you think your father wouldn't do that? You know him better than us. Maybe you'd be right. But can you be sure? Your only hope now is this cult ending before you're implicated."
Judging by the consternation on her face, Renata did not believe she was immune to such brutal treatment. If she had mysterious cloaked guards on her side, couldn't they get her away from her father? Why would it take a pair of witchers?
Maybe Akari was trying to find logic where there was none. Instead, maybe this was just a case of a spoiled rich kid who knew nothing of the world, had dug her own grave, and now thought a storybook tale of witchers whisking her away was her only way out. Few other women out there had the means to even dream of simply running off from the men that controlled them. It irked Akari, not because she was a woman; as a witcher, she had more freedom than most, but her mutations kept her always outside of society. It was its own sort of cage, one that followed her. Everyone lived their lives in one cage or another, and this lordling couldn't stand the gilded one that had ensured she'd never known a day of hunger or hardship.
Akari continued. "If you tell us how to find this Solar of yours, it can all be taken care of before you're implicated. But we are not getting chased across the fucking Continent by bounty hunters after being accused of kidnapping a noblewoman. That's how witchers end up in a noose."
Renata looked at the floor. "You have no idea what it's like living under that man's roof…"
It galled Akari a little, to see this person, so far free from consequence in her life, think that her personal sorrow was the stuff of some tragic play.
"And you have no idea how bad most people have it." Riordan growled.
Though she agreed with her friend, Akari decided on a different tack. There was a job to do. The Phoenix calmed herself. "What will you do? Where will you go? How will you survive away from home? Just running away with no plan is a good way to end up dead. Or worse."
The bodyguards were fuming at the perceived disrespect. Renata was on the verge of tears. Whether she told the pair what she knew or not, Akari just wanted this troublemaker gone. No good could come from getting tangled up in her delusions.
"...tonight's meeting is in town, at midnight, in the warehouse of the former empire's Western Continent Trading Company. It's privately owned now. The password to enter is 'trust not an eclipse.'" Renata murmured, then without another word, opened the door and left the room. Her bodyguards quickly followed. The two witchers waited until their footsteps faded away down the stairs.
"It's a trap." Riordan said.
"Oh, almost certainly." Akari agreed as she opened the windows. "We should have just lied to her and 'agreed' to her trade. Fuck. Should've thought of that."
"Should we go tell the Count about the meeting? Get back up?" Riordan asked.
"Hm. No. We're already probably not walking into the actual meeting. Coming in with a bunch of soldiers will just make anyone who can tell us anything scatter." Akari reasoned. "We'll go in prepared, take one or two alive if it comes to a fight, and get them to tell us where this 'Solar Feollach is."
"Sounds good." Riordan agreed.
The two set to work with the ingredients they had on hand, adding to what they were already carrying. Grapeshot bombs. Hanged Man's Venom. Swallow and Tawny Owl potions. A Dimeritium bomb. A Decoction brewed from a katakan they had slain a few weeks past. As wonderful as it would be to have a full variety of oils, bombs, and potions on hand, a travelling witcher could only carry so much, and it was far better to use what was on hand than to hoard it for later.
They left the inn, finding the WCTC warehouse in question. It wasn't much, just a two-story block of a structure in a quiet part of Azureport's dockside areas. The witchers scouted it out, stalking the building like they might stalk a beast in the wilderness. As the night deepened people began to arrive in ones and twos. A knock on the door. A whispered phrase. The door opened and they disappeared as it closed. They were all armed, but that was no surprise for a secret meeting of an illegal cult. Still, it didn't feel that clandestine.
Any city guard with half a brain should have been able to find it. Akari reminded herself of the idiocy of the vast majority of law enforcement; stupid pigs, snuffling noses in the mud, heads down, wondering why they noticed nothing, but never looked up. The corruption, too. Someone was likely getting paid for this.
It was shortly before the tolling of the midnight bell when Akari emerged from the shadowed place she had been watching, cloaked as the others had been. It would allow anonymity for a short while, hopefully. Riordan was simply too big to not draw attention. He'd wait for the sound of violence. Akari knew some bladework was probably imminent, but no one would care if a bunch of illegal cultists got chopped up, unless they themselves were part of the faith.
Akari knocked on the door to the warehouse. A slat at eye level opened immediately.
"No trespassers", someone on the other side said.
Akari kept her hood low, hiding her telltale eyes.
"Trust not an eclipse." She said.
A pause.
The door opened. Akari stepped inside. It was hot, humid with sea air, breath, and perspiration. There were shelving units along the walls and set in rows through the middle of the room, holding wooden crates, barrels, coils of rope, bulging sacks. A single lantern hung in the rafters above, a few more lanterns and candles resting among the shelves.
Two-dozen people, Akari counted. She began calculating how she'd start dealing with them. A single Grapeshot bomb would kill a good half-dozen, so gathered in groups were they. No one was obviously an authority figure. The cultists spoke in low voices, occasionally glancing at each other. Who could be a traitor, they likely wondered. Or had Renata warned them? Did they fear a person-eating, maiden-deflowering witchman was among them, stalking about and trying to decide whose flesh was softest and sweetest? Without knowing how these meetings normally went, Akari couldn't know if this was a normal level of suspicion.
Knowing it would probably be too noticeable if she remained on the fringes, Akari approached one of the small groups; a trio. They were all still covered. Akari figured it was in case the meeting was found out rather than hiding themselves from each other.
"May the Sun live in you, sister." The tallest of the three said, a silver-bearded chin and crooked nose poking out from his hood.
Akari's response was delayed for a moment, for as she reached the three cultists, her medallion vibrated. Oh. She considered her new conversation companions.
"And in you, brother." Akari replied, hoping that was a good response. Damn. They hadn't thought this through very well, in retrospect. Espionage was not a strong suit of either the Giant or the Phoenix. That dubious honor belonged to the much hated Cat School.
The man inclined his head. Standing with him were two others, one with a scarred lower cheek and another with red-painted lips. Beard, Scar, and Red, then. Gods, maybe it was just a mage who happened to be in the cult and none of them were the target?
Fuck this shit. I'll take a damned rampaging griffon any day of the week over this.
"Dark times. Dark times, indeed." Red was saying, her voice low and sultry. "The faithful are being tested."
"It is only through such darkness that those with the Sun's light within them can truly shine." Beard replied. His voice was a smooth, pleasing basso, belaying a frame that was clearly skinny beneath his cloak.
"And if the Count snuffs our lights out?" Asked Red.
"Then martyrs we shall be." Beard said.
"Easy to say for those of you with no family to take care of", Scar said. Her voice made Akari think of someone's favorite, doting aunt.
"The world has never changed without sacrifice." Beard said.
"Hard for the sacrifices to appreciate that." Red said.
Akari figured she better contribute or her silence might draw attention. She dredged up an old aphorism she had heard somewhere.
"The wise plant trees whose shade they'll never sit under." Akari added.
The other three all looked her way. Damn. Maybe staying silent had been a better idea after all.
"Well put, sister." Beard complimented.
"I don't believe we've had the pleasure, sister. How did you come to know the Living Sun?" Red asked.
Akari's blood went cold. This was, indeed, rapidly turning out to be a terrible plan.
"Oh, I was…called to it, just as many have been…", Akari started to say, speaking slowly to give herself time to come up with something.
The Phoenix was spared further words. The guard at the door had opened the slat and apparently received the correct password. However, as the door opened, the sound of steel piercing flesh suddenly silenced the room.
One of Renata's bodyguards was stepping over the corpse of the man at the door, the other one close behind. A few moments later, the Count's soldiers were entering into the room, passing by the two bodyguards. Wood shattered across the room. More Azureport men stomping in, armed with a variety of swords, spears, and maces. Some carried shields. All wore good chain under their surcoats, as well as chain coifs on their heads, though some added kettle helms or leather caps, too.
The cultists began drawing their weapons, but Akari could tell without question it was a hopeless fight. The devotees of the Living Sun were outnumbered, and the odds of them all happening to be either blessed paladins or former royal special forces for one kingdom or another were, in a word, slim. Akari prepared to draw her steel katana all the same, glad Riordan didn't seem to be blindly throwing himself into this. An idea was beginning to form. Two ideas, really. She could potentially fight her way out without being identified. However, it might not come to that.
The soldiers did not attack. They surrounded the cultists, two lines blocking both exits, but held back from slaughtering them. It left Akari wondering why the Count had even hired the witchers if his men already knew…
Then it hit her. Renata had warned someone, alright. It just hadn't been the Living Sun cult.
To drive the point home, the Lady herself entered the warehouse, her bodyguards leaving their places on either side of the door to walk with her. Renata wore the same dress from earlier, which felt incredibly out of place in a room that was moments away from exploding into violence.
"What…what is the meaning of this, Lady Renata?!" Red exclaimed.
"Traitor! She's betrayed us, just as I said she would!" Another cultist cried.
"Silence! Everyone, silence!" Beard raised one hand, then threw back his hood. He was bald with a gaunt face, wearing a patch over his left eye. When he spoke, he was calm. "My lady. We're only here by your sufferance. If you wish the cult gone from Azureport, we will go. There's no need for more death."
"My sufferance?" Renata scoffed. She stopped behind the wall of soldiers. "You can lie about your false prophet to this…congregation all you want to, sir. But these fabrications about me? Do not add slander on top of blasphemy and rebellion."
Beard's expression became both pleading and apologetic. "My lady. You have seen what the Living Sun gives me the power to do. Even if your men kill us all, many of them will die, as well. If someone must die, then let it be me. I will offer myself in exchange for the others here."
"And who are you that would make that a worthy trade?" Renata asked.
Akari had to admit, she was playing her role well.
Beard actually laughed softly before he said, "you know full well. But, for the benefit of your charade, I am Solar Feollach, blessed of the Living Sun, devotee of the Knight-Prophet. I am the much feared 'Sun Slayer' that you yourself directed at the two victims that now lie dead. I had believed you when you said their deaths would ensure our fellowship's safety. It seems I allowed faith to cloud my judgement."
The medallion around Akari's neck began to vibrate as light started gathering in Feollach's hands, emerging from his mouth as he spoke.
"No more, my lady. We will n-"
"Iaijutsu" was the art of quick-drawing and striking with the katana in one act, a skill used by the samurai of Fuso, carried on by the Witchers of the Phoenix School. With a single fluid motion, Akari's steel katana left the sheathe and passed through Feollach's neck. With that same motion, she flicked the blood from her blade, drew the blunt edge of the sword through the crook of her elbow to wipe it clean on her cloak, then sheathed it. Just as the katana returned to its sheathe, Feollach's body was hitting the floor, his severed head rolling away, the building divine magic fizzling out to nothing.
Nobody seemed to know how to react to this at first, not even Renata. The Living Sun cultists were stunned, a few of them cursing, beginning to weep, one person falling to their knees, but nothing overt happened. So, Akari seized the initiative.
"There. Contract completed." Akari informed the noblewoman. "Now, if you'll allow me to go turn this in", she picked up the dead Solar's head, "all of you can get to stabbing each other."
Akari made to walk forward.
"And why, witcher, would I let you go free? Here you are, cloaked just like the cultists here. So, you turned on the priest of your cult in hopes the law would go easy on you. A poor choice, witcher. Your poor choice has damned you." Renata informed her.
Akari stopped in place. She knew what choice the noblewoman was actually referring to. What a petty creature.
"As you wish, my lady." Akari said, then hurled the severed head at Renata.
The Lady shrieked as the head struck her in the face. She fell to the ground. Akari was surprised she didn't start retching, but then again, Renata did live in the same building as a man who apparently loved impaling people.
All eyes had turned to the flying head and screaming traitor. The Phoenix grabbed a Grapeshot from her belt, lit it, and tossed it forward. The bomb exploded at eye level, felling several soldiers.
The cultists must have known they were doomed. One of them worked up the courage to charge the line of spears, the others following suit as they tried to break through to the door, surging for the gap made by Akari's bomb. In their rush, someone must have tipped a candle or lantern, because a coil of tarry rope went up like a dry leaf in a bonfire. One cultist diverted to attack Akari. Whoever they were, they didn't even get a chance to attack her as Akari once again drew and struck.
No time for Hanged Man's Venom, the soldiers were closing in from both sides, shields up and spears lowered, three blocks moving between shelves that were rapidly being immolated. Akari turned, picked a soldier coming from behind her, making the Axii Sign. The man turned without warning, stabbing his spear into his nearest comrade's neck, bashing the rim of his shield into the face of another. One of his other comrades grabbed the "bewitched" soldier from behind and they began wrestling.
Renata was trying to run out the front door, yanked to the side of it at the last moment by one of her bodyguards, an axe blade cleaving through the torso of the other. Riordan ducked inside, his veins blackened with toxicity, axe taking off the head of Renata's remaining bodyguard, continuing on to splinter into the wall. He yanked it free with a battle cry. Drinking a decoction was a painful yet exhilarating experience. She'd never had one from a katakan, but knew its effects; a sudden, uncanny instinct on precisely the best places to hit a foe.
Akari saw Riordan wading into the confused swirl of combat, axe rising and falling. Smoke was rapidly filling the room and she struck out at anyone who came near her. There would be, the Phoenix suspected, no shortage of combatants attacking their own side in this mess.
Luckily for Akari, everyone other than Riordan was an enemy, and the keen senses of a witcher allowed her to navigate the smoke better than most. She flitted through the crowd, katana licking out to remove those in her way. An Aard blast sent two soldiers into a shelving unit, causing the burning structure to fall upon them. Two more came at her from either direction so she ducked and rolled, causing them to skewer each other with their spears.
Then, as if by magic, Akari was through, and there was Riordan, standing over a veritable heap of corpses. Just as the Phoenix broke out, she saw a figure approaching Riordan from behind, sword in hand, about to fall upon the Giant as he fended off several soldiers. Akari reached around behind her back, whipping her crossbow around, and firing; a motion she had practiced countless times. The bolt sped forth and struck Riordan's would-be ambusher through the breastone, pitching them back. The Giant didn't even notice as his axe split through the helm, coif, and skull of one of Azureport's soldiers.
"Out, Giant! We need to get out!" Akari shouted at him as she ran to him. Her voice was rough, throat sore from inhaling smoke.
Riordan glanced at her, nodded, then used Aard to push back the foes directly before him. Turning to run, he took a Grapeshot from his belt and pitched it behind him. It exploded in the melee with grisly effect, the screams of the wounded and dying almost matching the roar and crackle of the hungry flames.
As the two witchers ran for the exit, Akari briefly looked down to see who she had shot with her crossbow. Lady Renata var Medwyk lay motionless with a crossbow bolt in her chest.
You should have run out the door when you had the chance. Akari thought. She could decide how she felt about this turn of events later.
The witchers ran out of the warehouse. Akari had been expecting a full cordon of soldiers, but such was not the case. Had Renata done this without her father's knowledge? Did that even make any sense?
Behind them, the warehouse was fully in flames. The fire had spread to a neighboring warehouse, and embers had flown to ignite a thatched roof half a block over.
Shit. Didn't think that through, either.
"Do we…have a plan?" Riordan rasped, coughing as he did.
"Yeah." Akari replied. "Leaving town."
The fire ravaging Azureport reflected off its own smoke, creating a huge, reverberating, flickering light in the distance that chased away the shroud of night.
Akari and Riordan sat on the backs of Lunch and Kreveson, stationary on a ridge that was, itself, up an incline that led down to the shore and Azureport. Torch bearing figures had been going to and from Count Otlan's castle. Akari knew they should ride on, but she couldn't help but watch. No one was coming their way.
"So…", Akari began.
"Hm?" Riordan rumbled.
"What the fuck just happened?" Akari asked, though it wasn't really directed at anyone.
"Dunno." Riordan replied almost immediately regardless.
"That's the best you've got?" Akari asked dryly.
The Giant shrugged.
"Things just…happened to us here. It felt like it was all out of our control the entire time. And I've got so many questions that I don't think we'll ever have the answers for." Akari said.
"Probably not." Riordan agreed.
Akari sighed. Sometimes she wasn't sure why she tried talking to him.
The Giant had noted the sigh. "Down there was nobles and gods and holy wars. We were two witchers looking for one murderer. We were caught in the middle of shit above our paygrade. We're still alive to walk away. Simple as that."
"I don't know. I guess I'm just so used to being the one who's…solving the problem. Making the situation better, or at least keeping it from getting worse. That just felt like I was watching a play." Akari said.
"A play where you got to kill some of the actors." Riordan noted.
"You know what I'm getting at." Akari chided, but she did snort.
"Some people get to move history. It just happens to most people. We were most people down there." Another shrug from Riordan.
"That was damn near philosophical." Akari said.
"Got my moments." Riordan muttered, turning Kreveson away from the burning town.
Akari turned Lunch to go with him.
"I think we won't be coming back here anytime soon." Akari said.
"You don't say?" Riordan grunted.
As they rode away from Azureport, Akari's mind kept turning over what had happened. How much blame for it would rest at the witchers' feet? Would the Count's inevitable hatred rest with the Living Sun or the witchers?
Foolish to think a man like that can't hold enough hate for both. Akari thought.
She shook her head. In the end, Riordan was right. This was what it was like to just be a person, to be a pawn for lords and gods, prophets and sorcerers. Renata's death was undeniably Akari's fault, but the Lady had chosen to remain, chosen to try to kill Riordan rather than flee.
Another shake of the head. Gods. What a dirty fucking business it was, living in a world where control was an even more precious commodity than gold, and even more viciously struggled over.
Akari decided to take this disaster as a learning experience. It was all she really could do.
Later, the witchers would learn that Count Otlan flew into a maddened rage when he learned of the death of his only child. After a week of seeing Living Sun cultists in every shadow and several dozen more impalings, he was finally assassinated by his own soldiers when he finally turned on them. In a twist of irony, this vacancy allowed Sir Kotyan Styhr, Knight-Prophet of the Living Sun, to send a small force led by another Solar to claim the town for the cult.
As for the Living Sun movement itself, it was destined to go the way of all flames that burn twice as bright. Sir Kotyan was killed by an errant crossbow bolt scarcely two years after his ascension to the self-proclaimed rank of Knight-Prophet. The battle where this occurred saw the core of the Living Sun's military power utterly destroyed. There were a few dying gasps as others tried to claim the Knight-Prophet's place, but this led to infighting as much as conflict with non-believers, and soon the cult was reduced to a few hardcore followers practicing in secret, dreaming of a resurgence that would never come. The brief holy war ended up as merely one more chapter in the bloody history of the Nilfgaardian Civil Wars.
For obvious reasons, the witchers still had no plans of returning to Azureport.