Silver and Steel - A Witcher 3 story

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"Don't often see baubles like this in Velen... Powerful aura - must be some artifact, or... So this is where she disappeared to."



"Well, well. Nice." "I was wondering how long it would take you, Geralt. I'm upstairs. Don't be shy," she said.

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"Hope you didn't come to gawk," she said. "No. To talk." "Turn around and wait."

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"Keira Metz deep in the heart of Velen... Thought you hated the countryside," he said. "I can assure you I do, now more than ever." "Heard a witch lived out here. Never would've guessed it was King Foltest's former advisor." "I'm so pleased the world's still able to astound you, Geralt. I actually envy you that sense of wonder - common in children, knight-errant, and morons," Keira said. "Hm, someone's grown irritable. Is that any way to greet an old friend?" "I believe I greeted you with a pleasant view. Now tell me what brings you here." "So, betcha saw this question coming, what are you doing out here?" Geralt said. "Let me think... Enjoying the country air? Admiring the unspoilt scenery? Or is it furthering the age-old alliance between the city and its breadbasket. No. I'm in hiding, Geralt. Blind to the state of the world? Don't you see what's happening?" "Mean the persecution mages now face?" "Yes, that's exactly what I mean -- Radovid's new pastime, pursuing anyone with a whiff of magic about them. Witch hunters - sound familiar? Murderers scouring the North from end to end. Burning books, hanging soothsayers, torturing herbalists..." she said. "Picked a strange place to hide." "I didn't pick anything. In the North, Radovid's men hunt sorceresses like fish in a barel. Nilfgaard controls the south. Where was I to flee?" "Emperor does keep mage on a short leash, but he lets them live and ply their trade," he said. "Radovid and Emhyr differ in every respect except one. They share a deep hatred to the Lodge of Sorceresses. And I was a member." "So how's it feel to be the village witch?" "Huh. Horrid," Keira said. "No joy in having the boundles respect and trust of the local peasantry?" "They'd repect anyone who could produce a hemorrhoid cream." "Been here a while, haven't you?" Geralt said. "Long enough for rot to set in. You cannot possibly imagine how much I detest this place." "Changing the subject... Any news from your sisters from the Lodge?" "None. We can't know too much about one another these days. It's safer that way," she said. "Even tried to contact one another?" "I've wanted to many times. But I've no way of knowing who would answer - or who might be listening." "I'm looking for a certain young woman," he said. "Oh really. Who?" "Apparently, she quarreled with the local witch." "Pff. Someone's been feeding you horseshit. The girls around here are too stupid to quarrel with me," Keira said. "She's not from here." "You're up to something, Geralt. If I'm to help, you must tell me what's going on. Who are you looking for?" "Ciri," he said. "Ciri`Well... now I understand the secrecy, not to mention the brooding, the furled brow. And you say she had a quarrel with a witch?" "So you haven't seen her?" "I'm certain I haven't. But recently someone asked me about an ashen-haired woman. He claimed she would stand out from the peasant crowd," Keira said. "Who was it?" "Not so fast, Geralt. No humble plea? No offering for the witch?" "My undying gratitde. Good enough?" he said. "It's nothing to sneeze at, but you've a knack for getting into trouble. I should probably ask for somethig more imediately deliverable. Oh, sod it, don't give me that look. I know it's Ciri we're talking about. It was an elf - this individual who asked about Cirilla. No flea-bitten Scoia'tael slob, either, but an elven mage." "What was an elven mage doing in Velen?" "Well, I tried to ask him, o course about everything," she said. "Of course." "But you know how elves are - he asked more questions than he answered." "He say what his name was?" Geralt wondered. "He didn't. And he wore a mask. Very secretive all around, but... I liked him. he was intelligent and composed." "He say what he wanted with Ciri?" "Only that they were to meet in Velen. He wished to know if she'd arrived before he did," Keira said. "He leave a message for her?" "No, but he asked that were I to meet her, I should lead her to him." "So you know where to find him?" Geralt said. "Yes, he said he's found a hideout in some elven ruins near the village of Midcopse. I'll go there with you." "Why? Think I'll have trouble finding this place?" "I've unfinished business with this elf. He promised me something, but he never delivered it. Besides, I know you think as I do - that she might be there. And I like to see Cirilla, too," Keira said. "Let's go, then," Geralt said.

Northwest of the Village of Byways
A few hours later...


"Been here before?" Geralt asked. "No. I was hoping the elf would return as he'd promised, or else his waif would appear. At any rate, I've no idea what to expect from this place," Keira said. "Well, let's find out." "Gvella, glan!"



"The Wild Hunt," Geralt said. "What?! Phantom riders? That means... I thought they didn't exist!" she said. "Feast your eyes on the nonexistent, then. Hm. Got a navigator with them." "A what?" "Can you teleport us to the other side?" he said. "I'd rather teleport us home. Do you really mean to follow them?"



The Wild Hunt is actually an Elven cavalry from another dimension, they are called the Aen Elle, rather than the Aen Seidhe of our world. The Aen Elle live in a world where humans either do not exist or were wiped out and Elves are the dominant force. Their king, by the name of Eredin Bréacc Glas is one of the only known beings aside from Cirilla and the Unicorns that has the ability to travel between worlds, although not physically but as a spectre, which is what he and his riders are in our world. It is believed that the Wild Hunt seeks Cirilla as she is the last known carrier of the so called Lara gene or The Elder Blood, which gives her her world jumping powers. If the King were to reaquire this full power, he and his riders would likely physically enter this world and conquer it.



"Teleport. Hurry up!" Geralt said. "Not sure I like any of this," Keira said.

The witcher and the sorceress were separated...



Geralt searched, using his witcher senses...



"Lillad geach! ... UUUgh! Lillad geach -- Geralt, do something! They're craling out of those holes...! I hate...! Ugggh! Rats!"
The witcher killed the rats and destroyed the nests...
"You that afraid of rats? Could've annihilated them with one spell. Fine, won't say anything... So, what happend to you?" he said. "There's something here, something that distorts teleportation. I've no idea how they managed to get to the other side problem free," she said. "Wild Hunt's teleportation magi is different. Got specially trained mages for that - navigators they call them." "They can have three helmsmen and a parrot for all I care. I'll not risk that again." "Let's go. Wild Hunt got a good head start on us, but we still stand a chance," Geralt said. "Have you gone completely mad? We must leave here at once!" "I gotta know what the Wild Hunt is doing here." "But we came to find the elven mage, not to fight the Hunt!" Keira said. "If they reach him first, we won't get a chance to talk to him. Besides --" "Go on, finish. Wait, you've got a special interest in the hunt... Is this about Ciri? There's something you've not told me, isn't there?" "Come with me and maybe I will," he said. "Are you always like this? I'm beginning to feel sorry for Triss and Yen. Oh very well. Let's go."



"That's him! That's the elf!" Keira said. "What was that? An illusion?" Geralt said. "No... A morphotic projection." "A what projection?" "Something akin to a postbox for mages. Much safer than an ordinary letter, which anyone can intercept en route to its recipient," she explained. "Message was definitely for Ciri. Daughter of the gull - Lara Dorren's heir." "Indeed, it is what the elves would title Ciri. But what was the bit about the sign of her sword. A riddle?" "Yeah, not a hard one, though. Not if you know Ciri named her sword Zireael - Swallow," he said. "Come now, who aside from you would know that?" "Might've been the point. Your elven mage secured the passage, hid it, so that only Ciri could find it." "He failed to foresee that someone like you would show up," Keira said. "Nevertheless, I think he was expecting uninvited guests, made some preparations. Let's hope the Wild Hunt ran into some obstacles." "Well then, let's go. Do you think following the swallows will suffice?" "We'll see," Geralt said.

"An old elven... port?" Keira said. "Must've been how they got here by sea," Geralt said. "I wonder how long ago that was..."



"Careful! That oily, yellow vapor - it's toxic," Geralt said. "I hardly need instruction from you. I recognized the vulpine morel immediately," Keira said. "Vesemir told me that soon after he'd learned to cast Igni, he tried it out on a patch of these mushrooms." "Terrible idea. What happened?" "Well, he survived. And wounds heal awfully quick on young witchers. Come on."



"A swallow- Seems we're headed the right way," Keira said.



"Look. It's rather similar to that other pillar with the projection..." Keira said.



"Kelpie? Does he mean that sea monster?" Keira wondered. "No. That's what Ciri named her mare. Horse could apparently gallop like a demon," Geralt said. "Hm, good name for a horse. So, shall we look for it?"

"They look hastily scribbled on with lime," Keira said.



"Hunting dod. Can't see any connection to Kelpie," Geralt said.
Then Keira spotted a drawing, just above the water...



"Drawing of a horse. Clue for Ciri, must be."
Geralt dived down and emerged on the other side...



"Another horse. Almost exactly like the last one." "Geralt? I don't know what you did, but it worked! Come back here!" Keira called.



"Well, now I know what distorted my effort at teleportation. This very portal," Keira said. "And I know why I landed in that drowner nest," Geralt said. "You should be pleased you emerged from that portal in one piece." "And everyone still wonders why I hate to be teleported." "We must try to activate it," she said.



"It worked. Come," Keira said.
The witcher hesitated.
"The elven mage prepared this passage for Ciri. Come on, now," she said.



"It's grown awfully quiet. A bit like the calm before a storm... I have a bad feeling about this..." Keira said.



"Zirael not recognized. Intruders. Destroy the intruders."



"And that would be that! I knew we'd manage," Keira said. "That so? Make sure and tell me beforehand next time," Geralt said. "My intuition's a fine intrument, witcher. Don't underestimate it. I've some veeery good feelings about you, for instance. In several domains."

"Once you finally find Ciri, what will you do? Any plans?" Keira said. "Depends what she wants," Geralt said. "Imagined it - how it will... transpire? What will she say? What will she look like?" "No." "I'm sorry. For getting ahead of myself. At times I forget... we hardly know each other, certainly not enough to discuss personal matters," she said. "Not to worry. We'll get there," he said.



"Look, we've managed to cross the bridge. This is where we saw the Wild Hunt," Keira said. "Great, means they're way ahead of us. Come on," Geralt said.



"They destroyed the mage's sentries? They didn't come here for a friendly chat with the elf," Keira said. "Meaning you ever thought they might've?" Geralt said.



"Froze 'em before they could attack," he said.

"Shaar'az!"





"Shaent tah'vir!"
"What is this?!" Keira said. "The White Frost! Mage from the Hunt summoned it! Can you seal those cracks it's blowing through?!" Geralt said. "They're too far! We must get closer! I shall shield us with Demetia Crest's Surge! Da'arian annoi!"



"Want me to go...?!" Geralt said. "I'll do it, just cover me!" Keira said.



"Wheh, I'm beginning to think we might make it," Keira said.



"It worked..." Keira said. "Is something wrong?" Geralt said. "It'll pass... That took... a great deal of Power." "Just don't faint on me." "Now, in your embrace? Not on your life," she said. "Ahem. Love to be able to say we could stay here awhile and rest..." he said. "I know, I know. We must go on."

"Hm, they blocked the passage. Maybe I can try --" Geralt said. "Leave it to me," Keira said.



"Thanks for your help. Pretty tpugh slog," he said. "Good thing I came with you. You'd never have managed without me, would you? Come, now, admit it,"she said. "Yeah. Never."



Someone was waiting for them...



"You are stubborn, dh'oine."

"Geralt, I shall help you --" Keira said. "Step back," he told her. "Stop telling me what to do!"



"Are you well and whole? I feared --" Keira said. "Unnecessarily. Let's look around," Geralt said. "If I've my knickers on straight, this looks like the elf's laboratory." "All right, let's watch this message."



"Where last we were together. Not much to go on," Geralt said. "Perhaps it's best he didn't leave a clearer message. The Wild Hunt broke in here, surely they saw the projection," Keira said. "They searched everything... and if they had more time, they'd probably have torn the place to the ground. But that doesn't change the fact that we haven't learned anything - not about the elf, not about Ciri." "Well, we know they were well acquainted, and traveled together."



"The witches of Crookback Swamp..." Geralt said. "Crookback Bog," she corrected him. "Keira! If you're hiding something..." "But - I didn't say..." "Why didn't you say anything earlier? I told you Ciri had a run in with a witch," he said. "I had no idea you meant them... If I'd told you something, you would have rushed off to find them... But we needed first to confirm that Ciri was here, didn't we? I shall tell you everything now, of course." "Now, after I safely led you through the cave?" "I can't believe you'd think so poorly of me. Perhaps you do bear a grudge against sorceresses," she said. 



"Mhm. Can't imagine where that comes from," Geralt said.

"You know these witches?" Geralt said. "I've never met them, but I've read of them. In an old manuscript I found in one of the huts in the village. It mentions the village witches venturing into Crookback Bog at times - to liase between the villagers and the Crones, the Ladies of the Wood. The Crones appear to be intolerant of outsiders, but they help the local folk. Apparently, they stopped the spread of the plague in Velen," Keira said. "Hm. What's your take on this?" "I'd love to shrug it off as the nattering of so many old women, yet... Throughout my first night in Velen, I had horrible nightmares. Something was calling me out into the swamps. One night I decided to enter the dream consciously, render it lucid. I confronted the... thing directly. It broke contact at once. Peaceful nights ever since." "How do I find them?" he asked. "The swamps are vast, but they say the Crones mark the way for peasants who wish to visit them. The manuscript mentions a chapel in Crookback Bog. And from that chapel one much follow a Trail of Treats." "Treats?" "Of course, they didn't read you bedtime stories at Kaer Morhen. All normal folk know that witches live in ginger bread houses poised atop chicken legs," she said. "I'll have to see that to believe it." "Take the tome and read it. I... I truly believe you'll find your Cirilla. All right, then. As a start, let's look for a way out of here," Keira said. "Good idea," Geralt said.



After the White Frost
Spiring ash down dreamy hills past sparkling waters, Tir na Lia drifts slowly, softly, silently, into oblivion. Sage lips blacken, frosted bones quiver. Before an ice-bound eye can blink in distant skies I will watch your descent.


The Ladies of the Wood
The gods have abandoned us. The mighty of this earth care not for our fate. Only the Ladies of the Wood watch over Velen. In foul times, when plague or famine steals our harvest, we must beg the Ladies for help. If they deem fit, they will hear our pleas and knock back fortune's foul blows. This is how one begs help from the Ladies: Find a child, young and innocent, and take it to Crookback Bog. Search out the Ladies' shrine - that is where the Trail of Treats begins. Set the child off on the trail and it shall follow its sweet track and find the Good Ladies. The child will never want for anything ever again, for the Ladies are kind and generous. Standing before their shrine, pronounce your request and the Good Ladies will hear, for they see and hear all that takes place in their demesne. If you made the offering as it must be done, your supplication will be heard.

"Strange. My medallion's trembling, but there's nothing here... What's with this wall?" Geralt said. "It's an illusion. I sensed it as well. I expected we might run into such things, so I brought this. The Eye of Nehaleni. It dispels illusions. It's easy enough to build, so you're welcome to this one. It's bound to come in handy. And, each time it does, you will think of me," Keira said. "Hm, thanks."



"Mhm. Let's see where the passage leads," Geralt said.

you feel that? A flow of fresh air, from the left? Must be an exit that way!" Keira said. "Good, let's get outta here," Geralt said. "Wait. There's still the magic lamp." "The magic what now?" "Lamp. The elf promised it to me in exchange for my help. And since his return from here seems doubtful, I must retrieve it myself. If I can find it, that is... Will you help?" she said. "Yeah, I'll help." "Splendid. Come, then. We're certain to find something here."



"Looks like another riddle to me," Keira said. "Inscription here. Can you translate the inscription? I can decipher maybe a third, but that third doesn't make much sense," Geralt said. "Give me a minute. I was never any good at the high variant of the Elder Speech... Hm, all right. This might seem a bit literal. I'm afraid I can't replicate its sophisticated internal rhymes." "Just - translate it to make sense." "Four guardians, four flames, standing proud in a line. The First to light his fire dared not march on the end. The Second, by the First, played a woeful lament. The Third kept close to his faithful beast. The Fourth marched not beside the First, yet like the Second played a tune. And thus they stood o'er their queen, who slept beneath flickering stars. Hm... Sounds like a riddle, all right," she said. "All right, let's see if we can solve this," he said.



"Looks like some elven santuary..." Geralt said. "Whose grave is it - what do you think? No inscription, sadly," Keira said. "Hm... Sign of the gull. If I didn't already know where she was buried, I'd guess this is Lara Dorren's sepulcher." "Perhaps it's a monument to her?" "Can't see the elves commemorating her this way. Heroine of a tragic legend to some, but... Most see her as a traitor to her race, who got her just deserts for marrying Cregennan of Lod," he said. "Perhaps the elven mage is Lara's kin. It would explain why he's helping Ciri." "Possible. This what you're looking for?"



"So what's it supposed to do?" Geralt said. "Hm, I hope I'll be able to activate it... Let's leave this place, shall we?" Keira said.



Day 3275. Final conclusions regarding the lamp. 
My experiences with the magic lamp unequivocally confirm that by using it active centers of condensed spiritual energy can be coaxed into contact and can communicate a limited set of the being's last memories. 
Lara Dorren's remains, however, emit entirely inert spiritual energy despite the violent conditions of her death, which should have strengthened the desired tendency.
Lara remains silent. 
At this point further research on lamps enabling contact with the dead seem entirely useless for my purposes.

"Whew, at last. But it was worth it, right? You learned something about Ciri in the end, something important. Do you intend to venture into Crookback Bog? You must tell me about it afterwards," she said. "Don't know that I'll get the chance," he said. "Geralt, there are two types of men: those who see opportunity and take advantage, and those who forge the opportunities themselves. I've always seen you as an example of the latter. Besides, I've a favor to ask. So, visit me some time?" "I'll stop by. You can be sure." "In that case, I shall be ewaiting," she said. "See you, Keira."

It was a long way back...



Geralt found some notes left by the marauders...

Last week the three of us grabbed this traveler. Looked like the kind of cowardly fuck starts shitting his breeches at the first sight of you. But seems looks can be deceiving. Bastard started waving a sword, cut my ear off and sliced Olaf's arse so deep he's got an extra crack, except the new one's horizontal. Then he smacked Ivar in the forehead with the hilt. Poor sod's still dizzy. 
We snuffed him in the end, of course - every fellow's doomed when he's outnumbered. But it turned out he had a handful of coins in his pouch, a copper ring on his finger - and that's it. We lost out on that robbery - paid more to the herbalist for patching up than we took from that whoreson. So afterwards Olaf said, "Why the devil risk our necks waiting around for travelers, when gold's literally sitting right under our feet - buried with the dead?" A corpse can't defend itself, so the risk of injury's nil. No need to wait around all day till someone walks by - there's already a couple dozen someone's waiting for us, lying in their graves, each one marked out like veg at a grocer's.

There seemed to be enough bandits and monsters about the landscape...



The witcher was set on his path. Soon he could see his destination in the distance...



Necrophage activity on a side road caught Geralt's attention...



"Ghoul nest. Oughta just destroy it."

That was the same poster Geralt had seen in the basement belonging to the Imperial agent the Wild Hunt had murdered...
"Halt! Who goes there?!" "Baron home?" Geralt asked. "Depends who's askin'." "A witcher. Wanna talk to him." "Hmph, yeah. And I wanna plough the lovely Queen Cerro." 



"Seen this man before. Inn at the Crossroads. You were there not so long ago. Thought you were supposed to go your separate way, nice and all." "It led me here. Gotta talk to the baron," Geralt said. "Oh, aye? What about?" "Something important. His ears only." "Fine. Lodrin, let 'im in. If he makes trouble... well, we outnumber 'im. Open the gate!"

"Ardal! Witcher to see the baron! Don't want no disturbances, that clear?" "What do you think?" Geralt said.



"Guard called you a sergeant. You a Temerian soldier?" Geralt said. "Not your concern, mate." "Deserter?" "Temerian army don't exist no more," he said. "So what're you all doing here?" "Had a choice after the Blac Ones thrashed us - let it lie and try to lead normal lives... or continue to resist, join the guerilas and fight for our beloved Temeria till death do us part. We chose the former." "And the baron your commander?" Geralt said. "Hmm, yeah - commander..."



"In Vizima - now those were balls! Attended a few, me and my Annie! Oh, how we danced! How we twirled! Hahaha!" the baron said. "I don't care how you do it, but the deliveries must be weekly," the Nilfgaardian said. "Won't you stay for tea?" "No. Besides, you've another guest."



"Look at that - didn't even stay for tea. In spite of all that blabberin' about how cultured the nation is..." the baron said. "Rumors rarely find confirmation in reality - especially the ones about foreigners," Geralt said. "Heheh. Right you are. I know who you are. Believe I also know why you've come. We'll talk inside."



"Make yourself at home. Now, where'd I put the bloody vodka...? Ah, there it is! A snifter?" the baron said. "Why not," Geralt said. "Hah! A man after my own heart. Hmm... with Foltest dead and Natalis' whereabouts unknown... bloody hell, who's a loyal Temerian to drink to these days?" "Himself and his company?" "Good enough," the baron said.



"To the matter at hand - I'm Phillip Strenger, though the blobtits 'round here call me the Bloody Baron." "Geralt of Rivia. Blobtits call me the Butcher of Blaviken." "I said already - I know who you are. Truth be told, it's the only reason we're talking. How do you like it here in Velen?" the baron said. "Didn't come here to talk about the scenery," Geralt said. "You're wrong to avoid the topic. You've just arrived, plain to see. And the local swamps and bogs - they're interesting to say the least. Someone loses their way 'round here, he becomes damn hard to find." "What're you getting at?" "Many have lost loved ones here. Some their wives, others their daughters..." the baron said. "Get to the point already." "Ciri. That's why you've come, isn't it?" "So she was here," Geralt said. 



"She showed up some time ago - exhausted, wounded, and stinkin' like a hound after a hard hunt. Later I learned she'd come from the swamp... Said some beast from the woods attacked her before she could reach the village..." the baron said.

"Oof. That was close. I must leave this place."



"Stupid wolves. Go away!"



"You can come down!" Cirilla said.



"Hello there. Are you lost?" Cirilla said. "A little, I guess. Are you?" Gretka said. "Yes. Though also just a little." "Does that mean... you know which way to go?" "Not quite, not yet. But I'm sure we'll find our way if we set off together," Cirilla said. "What happened to you?" "This? Hm, it's... nothing. How did you wind up here?" "My father brought me. Told me to follow the trail of treats and eat my fill. He said he would wait. So I started down the trail, but then I saw a butterfly, and I ran to catch it, and I lost my way," the little girl said. "Your father - why did he have you follow the trail of treats? Do you know?" "Because... we had naught to break our fast with." "I don't understand," Cirilla said. "I was naughty... broke a jug... spilled all our milk." "Your parents must've been angry." "Mother said I should be spanked, but father said 'twouldn't do no good - too many mouths to feed anyway. Sending me down the trail of treats - that would solve things," Gretka said. "You and your father - when did you leave home?" "This mornin'." "And did the sun warm your face or your back?" Cirilla asked. "It warmed my back." "so we must go east. I'll walk you home. And explain to your parents that they must not lose their children in the woods." "We can't go home. 'Cause of the Wolf King and his pack," the girl said. "No kings among wolves." "These have one!" "And you've seen him?" Cirilla said. "Yes! I mean, no. From behind a tree. He was huge, with giant eyes and great fangs, and he was terribly, disgustably horrific!" Gretka said. "See what I've got on my back? Wolves fear it. Kings do too. Come, I'll help you up."

"You can come out now!" Cirilla said. "My, you're brave. My father couldn't even do that!" Gretka said. "Heh. Mine could do a lot more. Come."



"Hmm, massacred... by something with immesnse claws."



"Look! There's something there," Gretka said. "Wait here. Don't come any closer," Cirilla said.



The young woman examined the corpse. She started by looking at his eyes...
"Hmm... Blodshot, but still moist. He died recently. Lips parted and bloated... Bit clear through his tongue. Immense pain before death. Ah, his chest is crushed. Ribs probably pierced his lungs. Something picked him up and threw him against the tree. Hmm... Something tore his leg off. No, gnawed it off." "Eeew, that's horrible!" Gretka said. "Stay there, and look away," Cirilla said. "Hmm... What's this? Marrow's missing. Interesting. Let's see... Oh, his liver's gone." "Why're you diggin' through his belly?" Gretka said. "Would you mind making certain your laces are tied? The Wolf King's no fantasy, it seems. Except, he's a werewolf." "What happened to him?" "He... had a fall," Cirilla said. "Mhm, I bet. The Wolf King got him." "Hm, when did children get so smart?" "What'll we do when the Wolf King finds us?" Gretka said. "Good question. I've no silver, but I can make a blade oil." "Oil? You mean like we make from rapeseed?" "No, a far more special oil. Of dog tallow, wolfsbane, fool's parsley and wolf's liver. The Wolf King will feel terrible, terrible pain..." Cirilla said. "You're smart! How do you know these things? Did your father teach you?" Gretka said. "Not my father. My uncle. Uncle Vesemir."

"They're gone! You can come out! Cririlla said. "You cut 'em up bad! The Wolf King will be angry," Gretka said.



"All right. I have everything. Now for a spot where I can build a fire, brew the oil in peace," Cirilla said.



"What're you doin'?" Gretka said. "Greasing my blade. There. We'll see just how effective Uncle Vesemir's formulae are," Cirilla said.



"Hm, it's dead. But a pig here? Must be a human settlement nearby."



"Do parents often send their children out to follow the sweeys?" Cirilla said. "Sometimes they send their children, sometimes they go themselves," Gretka said. "Do they return?" "No, why would they? They've plenty to eat where the path ends."



"This way. Through the cave," Gretka said.

"The Wolf King! Now do you believe me?" Gretka said. "I do. Hide!" Cirilla said.



"Why... you really gave 'im a drubbin'! Never seen anythin' like it!" "Girl! You can come out now! Come on!" Cirilla said.



"You're luvky we came this way. Found someone far less fortunate in the forest," Cirilla said. "Oh, Yaren, must be. We was returnin' from Midcopse when the brute attacked. I managed to flee, but Yaren, err..." "The little one - no details. You have bandages at home? Some spirit? He laid a claw or two on me, unfortunately." "I-I've naught, miss... but my lord - he's a powerful man. He's sure to help ye. Might even reward you for cuttin' the werewolf down," he said. "Very well. Lead us to your lord," Cirilla said.

Crow's Nest, a few hours later...





"Just who do you think you've brought me, man? That's not me daughter!" the baron said. "And the little one?" "Neither, dammit! I think I'd know my own child." "Well, er... mi-might not be yours, the olde one, but you've gotsa admit the likeness. It's downright strikin'! So, any chance for that reward?" "You'll not see pne fucking copper! Get out before I set my hounds on you!" the baron said.





"So, stew any good?" the baron said. "Mhm, very, thank you. I'd not eaten in--" Cirilla said. "Clear to see. I'm pleased you like it. Had them prepare a bath for you, once you've eaten. And you could do with some sleep. Gretka in the nook behind the hearth, you in the guest room opposite the kitchen." "Thank you, I--" "Shh. Eat now. We'll speak once you've rested," the baron said.

"So I ordered my men to watch her and left her to rest," the baron said. "And?" "Ahhh, a topic for another time." "The little girl who showed up here with Ciri - what happened to her?" Geralt said. "Gretka? She's safe and sound. Helps out in the kitchen. Ciri told me of the girl's parents, what they'd decided. So I decided not to send the lass home. She's fed here. A roof over a warm corner she calls home. She wants for nothing." "What happened to Ciri?" "I've told you already - a topic for another time," the baron said. "Take it you won't give me this information for free." "Heheh, sharp you are. I regret your loss, commiserate. But you see, it so happens my wife and daughter are missing as well. I propose an exchange - find my loved ones, and I shall tell you about the girl you seek. All I know." "Fine. I'll help you. I'll find your family, but then you'll give me every bit of information you have," Geralt said. "You have my word. Guard! This man's under my protection. No one's to bother him - in any way. Don't stare - I've not grown horns. Treat it as a token of my good faith." "When'd you see them last?" "They vanished after the new moon, as if whisked away by shadows," the baron said. "What do you mean, vanished?" "Precisely that. I awoke one morn to find them gone." "Can't start searching till I know what they look like," Geralt said. "Tamara, my daughter, turned nineteen in spring. Slender lass, about yea tall, comes up to my shoulders. Beautiful eyes. Green like her mother's. My wife, Anna, has two score winters behind her, though she'd never admit it. Dark hair, thick as tar. Keeps it tied up in a bun." "You try to search for them?" "Sent men out right away. But they're not suited to it. It's one thing to rip up floorboards in search of a peasant's last sack of grain. Finding a living person - they just don't know how. Besides... Velen's naught but swamp and marshy woodland. Plenty of hard to find nooks. If you're lookin' to hide someone, this is the place," the baron said. "Maybe they were kidnapped. Got any enemies?" "None worth mentioning. Worthless little pricks and angry peasants is all. None would dare to raise a finger against my family. Any who might've, they've been eating dirt long since." "Anything unusual happen before they disappeared? They act differently, do anything strange?" Geralt said. "Unusual? No... But not long ago, peasants came to complain that a beast had ravaged a woman by the well. Devoured another lass before her. Common occurrences in Velen. And my women? Anna, quiet as a mouse, as ever. And Tamara, occupied with her... things... Nothing unusual." "I'll need to know a lot more than that. Can't I see their rooms?" "What for?" the baron said. "I need clues, anything to latch onto." "I'll not let a stranger paw through their belongings." "Want me to find them or not?" Geralt said. "I do." "Then let me work." "Huh, fine. But I shall go with you. The doors are locked," the baron said.



"When she was a babe, my daughter loved animals. Papa, is that deeh's wump on the other side of the wall? Pwhahaha... You see it there? Whoaho! What a trophy! Hahaha... I pity any bastard who's hurt her... I'll flay him alive," the baron said.

"Here it is. Oh, dammit! Jammed again," the baron said.
He gave the door a yank and it opened. He sat down and waited for the witcher do do his work.
"Try not to make a mess. For their return, I want everything to be as they left it," he said.
Geralt began his investigation in Tamara's room...



"Incense, and an old key. Wonder what it unlocks... Anise, sandalwood and something else... Saffron?"

(...) We are more like a family. We support each other and help each other survive tough moments, grapple with the past. For each of us has a past. So you needn't worry about anyone digging into yours. We've got a rule — never ask more than someone offers on their own. The past doesn't matter to us, only the future does, that and our common fight against evil and depravity, against perverse and loathsome practices of all kinds (...)



"Hm. Damn ugly for a doll. The kind you'd stick with pins to hurt someone."
The witcher decided to continue his investigation in the baron and his wife's room...



"Wooden candlestick. Stem's broken."



"Wall's a different colour. Something used to hang here. Hm... that painting? Right size."




"The baron and his wife. Hm, look happy enough."
Geralt takes the painting down...
"What's this? Ah, Gotta wonder who wanted to hide the hole... and what's on the other side."



"Hmm, it gets interesting. Piece of wood looks like the stem of that candlestick. No coincidence there. Hmm... fight might've happened here. Oughta look for clues."



"Fresh flowers. He expects them to return any minute. Takes hope."

"Huh, rest of the candlestick. And wine stains. Somebody smashed a bottle. From Toussaint. Yeah, Erveluce. Scent hasn't died. Wonder where it'll lead me."



"Damn, trail breaks off. Could find something else, though. Hmm... spruce wood. Smells of juiper incense. Some sort of folk talisman, protective. Question is - against what? Won't find much more here."



"An altar. So, the Eternal Fire's made it to Velen."

Eternal Fire, which lighteth our hearts and giveth us light,
Heat us with Thy warmth,
Dry our tears,
Burn our foes,
Embraces our friends in Thy care.
Give my mother health,
Punish my father,
Help me fulfill my destiny.



"Done pokin' around?" the baron said. "Found a doll in Tamara's room. Tell me about it," Geralt said. "Heh! What could possibly be so interesting about a doll, witcher?" "Looks like it might've been used for some sort of black magic. Where'd Tamara get it?" "Black magic? Are you barmy?! I made it for her! She was four, perhaps five winters old. We were in Vizima on market day and she saw the sorceress Triss Merigold. Insisted she must have a doll just like her. Couldn't afford a thing of that sort, so I made the doll with me own hands," the baron said. "So it is supposed to be Triss. Yeah, I see it now. Eerie. Looks just like her." "Doesn't it? Time's taken a bit of a toll, but overall, it continues to impress." "You got something to fall back on if things don't work out with Nilfgaard. Found signs of a fight in the room. Know anything about that?" Geralt said. "A fight? What're you talkin' about?" "Someone was attacked - probably your wife or daughter. Whoever it was tried to defend themselves with a candlestick. Missed the attacker, punctured the wall, instead. They tussled, too." "I... I don't know nothin' about this. That night... I wa drunk, don't remember a thing. They were gone by the time I awoke," the baron said. "Doubt you were the only ones in the castle. Maybe one of your men heard something?" "Three times I asked those bastards if they'd seen anythin', heard anythin'. Nothin', not a one of 'em." "Whole landing smells of wine. Tell me anything about that?" Geralt said. "One of the lads, must be. Lushes one and all." "Give your men Erveluce?" "Oh, dammit, I might've spilled it. I told you I was good and marinated that night. Why's it matter? Stench of wine in plenty a corner around the castle," the baron said. "Recognize this amulet?" "Hmm... Yes. Anna began wearing it a time ago." "Any idea where she got it?" Geralt said. "None." "Any witches or cunning women in the area?" "A pellar. Old coot lives near Blackbough. And there's a cunning woman in Midcopse, but I know little about her - she's only recently arrived. If Anna were to see someone, she'd choose the pellar, not the woman. Anna was wary of strangers, newcomers," the baron said. "Oughta have a chat with this pellar." "Fair warning - he's a hard man to talk to. Rumour has it he killed his own father with an axe as a lad, then went batty. Now they say he sees ghosts and ploughs his goat." "Not really interested in his hobbies. Just want to ask about the amulet," Geralt said.

Geralt stopped to look at the notice board...



To Whom It May Concern:
Let it hereby be known that whoever kills the shrieker, the monster that's wove its nest near Crow's Perch and has taken to killing both men and beasts, will be given a sizable reward. Take heed that she's a dreadful dangerous creature and killing it'll take a trained fighter, not just a pack of peasants with pitchforks.
-Chet at Crow's Perch

Good Folk!
There's a vile and dangerous spook, beast or devil of sorts causing no end of trouble near our village, Honorton. We promise our profoundest gratitude - and a sizeable reward - to any brave lad who can slay it.
If you're looking to learn more, come pay us a visit. 
Ask for the ealdorman, Sobemir.

The Sharpers, a gwent playing society based at Crow's Perch, is looking for new members - and opponents. Experience preferred, but we will also school newcomers to the game (but not return any coin lost during training matches).
For more information see the club's chairman, Phillip Strenger, known as the Bloody Baron.



"Wanna talk to the pellar," Geralt said. "Too late. We've got dibs on a chat with 'im. A long one." "Think you need to leave now," the witcher said. "Do we?" "You do." 
Geralt used the Axxi sign...
"Well... let's go, then." "Hm, gotta wonder about a man who could get Edric's friends all worked up," the witcher thought.




"Hey! Anybody home? Open up. It's safe now," Geralt said. "Devils! Who do they bring?! What seek ye?" "I need your help. "Ooh... a man - nay - a wolf, gray, though not old... 'Tis he the pellar awaits."




"You were expecting me?" Geralt said. "Aye, as the bones declared I should. They shall come whose stench is rape and death, but the wolf shall disperse them. The White Wolf. And thus he comes. Omens never lie," the pellar said.

"Recognize this? Made of spruce wood, strong smell of juniper. Designed to protect someone," Geralt said.



"Freshly cut spruce sprinkled with goat's blood, then tempered with an incense of earthsmoke and juniper. For Anna. To protect her," the pellar said. "You make the amulet?" Geralt said. "Aye. Sure, 'twas the pellar. After the way of his forefathers, over still water, in the light of a full moon. Proper as amulet go. It protected well. Should never 'ave taken it off." "So, designed to protect her. From what?" "Oh, the dear - besieged she was. Evil all around, wanting to possess her. Old magic born of oblivion, from dark sources emerged," the pellar said. "Old magic? Can you be more specific?" "Tis naught for mouth-speech, nor the touch. A small protective charm - not a thing more a pellar could do." "Anna and her daughter are missing. Know where they are?" Geralt said. "Nay, no, nay. Pellar don't know. But the spirits could know. The pellar will augur, the spirits ask." "Spirits, great, fine with me. Long as I know where to look, where to find them." "Lost, lost... must be found... Princess! None better than Princess for findin' things," the pellar said. "Princess? What princess?" "Princess! My goat! She's fled!" the pellar said. "Those men must've scared her off. Can we get back to the auguring?" "Without the goat? Impossible. No goat? Hmpf, won't work!"



"Huh, will you help me if I bring the goat back?" Geralt said. "Princess, Princess, where've you got to, girl?" the pellar said. "Fine. I'll get your goat." "The bell! The little bell's ringing - she loves it! Ring, ring, and she will follow! Uh, for a while. But beware of wild strawberries. Raspberries, too." "Yeah, treacherous as beasts go. I always keep an eye out for 'em," Geralt said.



"This way, I think..."



"Here, goat! Ahem... Here, Princess!"