Silver and Steel - A Witcher 3 story

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"Hoofed and horned - should known it would be stubborn. Come on, take you back to the pellar. Misses you something awful."



"Bear! Bear! Run, you stupid piece of shit!"



"Do I really have to keep ringing this bell for you to follow? You're no Roach, but I bet we could be friends in time. You've got that all-important quality every Roach has to have - you don't talk much."



"Princess! Flee not from the pellar, for there are wolves about!" the old man said. 



"Goat of mine! Dearest, sweetest goat!" the pellar said. "Can we talk about Anna and Tamara now? Know where they might be?" Geralt said. "Blood! We need blood. A living being." "Fine. Be right back."



"Will this do?" Geralt said.

"They are not here. They have gone. Blood! I see blood!" the pellar said. "Whose," Geralt wondered. "No Anna... no Tamara... just a child. A child that lives not, yet did not die."



"Mentined a child. Whose?" Geralt said. "Why, Anna's," the pellar said. "Anna was pregnant?" "She was. And she miscarried." "Hm, baron didn't mention it," the witcher said. "Afraid, perhaps, or ashamed, or forgetful... Or perhaps he had no wis to remember." "Anna tell you all this? Did she come here after it happened?" "Nay, not Anna. 'Twas the omens told me," the pellar said. "Great, so I can be sure it's true." "The omens need not your faith to be true, it is you who needs the omens to lead you to truth." "The baron have anything to do with his wife's miscarriage?" Geralt wondered. "Foul-tempered he is, and he's a fondness for hooch." "No doubt makes his temper even fouller. Did he abuse his family? Anna came to you, you must've noticed something." "The pellar's old, near blind... but Princess came and licked her hand," he said. "So what?" "She's a wise beast, only comes to those who suffer." "What happened to the child?" the witcher wondered. "In a grave thrown, without rite or ceremony, it awoke. Now it wanders, it seeks vengeance." "A botchling." "White Wolf, wise wolf. Catch the botchling, the botchling will help, lead the wolf to the loved ones," the pellar said. "Botchlings suck the blood of pregnant women and eat their fetuses. They don't help." "'Tis a being cursed, and witchers lift curses. If the White Wolf can't lift it, he should bring me its blood. Blood will always find kindred blood." "Heard of one witcher who lifted a botchling's curse. Never tried it myself, though. I know you need to bury it under the treshold," Geralt said. "And give it a name! Perform the Aymm Rhoin." "The Ritual of Naming? That's an elven custom." "Human, elven, dwarven... ancient. Spirits have no race, they honor not its meaning. Win a spirit's favor, and the spirit shall aid you. Ask and it will answer. Seek, and it will show you the way," the pellar said. "Whatever I do, I gotta find the botchling first." "Seek it at midnight, near the grave that lies empty." "If what you say is true, the baron oughta know where that grave is," Geralt said.

"Lightning strike?"



"Oswin! Where's Oswin?! Anyone seen him?" Ardal said. "I saw him go into the stable." "Whaat?!" "Fire! You blind? Nobody willing to put it out?" Geralt said. "Ain't that simple. Most're afraid! Baron flies into a rage, he takes no prisners!" the old man said. "My brother's in the stable! We've got to save him - he'll burn alive! Him and the horses!" Ardal said. "See what I can do," Geralt said. "Hurry, now! Quick!" Ardal said.
Geralt approached the building...
"Dammit. Lots of smoke. Gotta hurry."



"Hahahahaah! We've a hero in our midst! You've earned yourself a barrel of Lyrian!" the Baron said. "I know your wife miscarried. Was that before or after you beat her to a pulp?" Geralt said. "What the fudge're you suggesting?!" "Don't play me for a fool. You'd been beating them for years. Finally, they'd had enough and fled. Sound about right?" "Aaarrrrggghhh..."
The Baron flew into a rage and swung at the witcher. But Geralt was to fast and too nimble for the drunkard.



"We need to talk," Geralt said.

"You beat them," Geralt accused the baron. "I never laid a finger on Tamara, not once," he said. "And on Anna?" "That's another story. She always knew how to spark my ire." "You knew they had run away from the start," the witcher said. "Yes, I knew." "Why didn't you tell me? Wasted my time." "Say I had? Say I'd said I'd had troubles, couldn't control my wife, my daughter? What kind of flaccid prick would you take me for?" the baron said. "Gotta admit I do think you're a prick. Not because you couldn't control them, but because you drove them away." "What?" "Don't play the idiot. You gave them no choice," Geralt said. "Anna... and I... it wasn't as it seemed, seems..." "All right, I'm all ears. Tell me what happened. The truth this time." "I'd been soakin' myself three days straight. Anna came to me, said they were leaving. I begged them to stay. She refusedd to hear it. I tried to stop her. She wriggled like an eel, we struggled... she fell. Last blasted thing I remember. Woke up in the morn, breeches heavy with me own piss, a large bump on my head. Sadly, they were gone. Know what that's like, witcher? No, how the fudge could you? I was left with nothing! Nothing! Only the bottle..." the baron said. "Tamara present for all this? She see you quarrel?" "Through the doorway, perhaps. She didn't enter the room. Shame, too - things might've turned out differently. The sight of her always calmed me." "What happened next?" Geralt said. "Next... it only got worse. I awoke after sunset, not knowin' how many days had passed. Thought it was all a ploughin' drunken nightmare. An' then I went to the bedchamber, but Anna was not there. Instead... there was blood, everywhere. I knew. She'd miscarried. My breath short, my throat locked, I neared the bed... and saw it. It lay there. A tiny thing, defenseless... on bloodied sheets... dead. And it was my doing." "Maybe your doing, maybe not - but that amulet she wore could be important. Or maybe the fact that she lost it. What did you do with the child?" "What was I to do? Took it out and buried it," the baron said. "Just like that?" "Damn you! I gave no thought to a funeral. It was a horror, I wanted it to end. That child had been my dream. I told Anna, 'A little one, our litle one, to make things right.' Yet she died before she could be born. Understand, witcher? My child was dead." "I sympathize, Ido," Geralt said. "Thank you. And know that I hope you find your Ciri." "Deal we made means I need to find Tmara and Anna first. Just so happens your unborn daughter might help us do that." "What? How?" the baron said. "Sometimes miscarried fetuses, if they don't get a proper burial, turn into botchlings." "Into, fucking what...?" "A cursed creature that draws strength from killing pregnant women. Once it's strong enough, it attacks those who scorned it," the witcher explained. "But how... how does it know?" "Blood ties. They're a strong bond, a bond I want to use to find your family." "How?" the baron wondered. "One of two ways. Legends claim that you can bury a botchling under the family's treshold, perform a ritual and turn it into a lubberkin. That's a sort of, uhh... hob, a guardian spirit that could lea me to your family." "And the other way?" "We kill it and draw some blood. Take that to the pellar and he does the rest," Geralt said. "Do not kill my child. It's suffered enough already. Lift the curse, that it may finally rest in peace." "Whatever we do, we gotta find the botchling first." "I'll show you whereI buried her. And I'll dig the grave at my treshold," the baron said. "If it turns out we can't transform the botchling into a lubberkin, they can bury us in it. Handy either way. The sooner we resolve this, the better. Best do it tonigght, at midnight." "Then wait here with me. Near midnight I'll take you to where I buried her." "Get word to the common folk. Oughta stay in their homes tonight and draw a like of salt outside their doors. And try to sober up," the witcher said. "Do I take a shovel? To dig up the grave?" the baron said. "Take it. You'll need it, but not for that."

"A bit further, follow me," the baron said. "Chosen a name yet?" Geralt said. "No... why would we?" "Mistake. Names are powerful seals." "Here's the spot," the baron said.


"Chose a lovely spot," Geralt said. "Dammit, will you relent? I ploughin' know I've done wrong," the baron said. "Good... The grave's dug up. And empty." "What's that mean?" "The botchling's on the prowl," the witcher said.


"Take it in your arms, quick!" Geralt said. "And if it goes garrity? It'll bite us in the arse before we know it!" the baron said. "Keep screaming and it will go rabid. It's calm, for now." "Bloody hell. What happens when it gets ploughin' restless?" "It'll bite through your jugular, and you'll bleed to death before I can help. Tell me if it starts wriggling - I'll calm it with magic. Pick it up. Take it in your arms," the witcher said.

"Think of one. It's important," Geralt told the baron. "It's... it's a girl. What would Anna have named her?"


"Repeat after me. By the powers of earth and sky," Geralt said. "By the powers of earth and sky," the baron repeated. "By the world that was to be your home. Forgive me, you who came but I did not embrace. I name thee - say her name - and embrace thee as my daughter." "... I name the Dea and embrace thee as my daughter."


"Good. Now bury the body," Geralt said.


"Agh. What now?" the baron said. "In one day's time Dea should turn into a lubberkin. I'll stay here and wait. You go home," Geralt said. "I'll wait with you." "Out of the question." "But... that's my child. And the guilt, the responsibility for all this lies with me," the baron said. "Time for parental impulses... it's long past. Besides, nothing you can do here. No 'buts.' Just witcher's work left to do here. Gotta wait a day and night for the botchling to turn into a lubberkin. That's it. go home. And try not to drink yourself stupid again," Geralt said.

Come morning, Geralt decided he should take a look at the room Ciri stayed in...


"A spinning top.Gretka's toy. ... 'The Natural Obscurity of Curses' by Lydia van Bredevoort. Where'd Ciri get this?"
He looked at the clothing on the floor.
"Ciri must've used these. Looks like she left in a hurry."


"So you're Gretka..." "I am. And you're Geralt," she said. "How'd you know?" "Because you've white hair and a medallion shaped like a wolf. Ciri told me about you." "You and Ciri talked a bit, didn't you?" he said. "We did." "Did she say where she was going? Or what she came her to look for?" "She said she was looking for you and a sorceress. But you're here, so I guess she didn't find you. I wonder if she helped that friend of hers..." Gretka said. "Ciri wanted to help a friend? Any idea who it was?" "What do you mean who? Her friend. She said he was in trouble and she had to save him." "Look familiar?" Geralt said. "My top! Where'd you find it?" "In Ciri's room." "We'd play in her room sometimes. I was sad one day, and Ciri carved it for me. Such a shame she had to leave,"she said. "Do you know where Ciri is?" "No. One day I brought her breakfast, and she was already gone. The baron told me she'd left." "Didn't ask where she'd gone?" he said. "I did, but he said I was too little and I wouldn't understand. But Ciri left me a gift. Yes, this. A green stone." "Beautiful as gifts go. Hide it well, don't show it to anyone. It's worth a lot. Thanks, Gretka. Have fun," the wither said. "But I'm not playin'. I'm helpin'," the girl said.
Geralt looked closer at the book he found in Ciri's room...

To my dear friends, Phillip and Anna - From Count la Guevre, Minister of Culture for the kingdom of Temeria.
Vizima, 1265
Whoever thinks curses are only ever manifestations of one being's ill will towards another is sorely mistaken. Shockingly commonplace are reports of curses cast unwittingly on oneself or on objects in one's immediate environment. The consequences of doing so can be difficult to predict. In many cases they lead to harm or even the death of the person afflicted by the cures, or of the people spending time with the object or being on which the curse fell. That is why it is so essential to take preventative measures to safeguard oneself as thoroughly as possible against the casting of curses. As an absolute minimum Madame Amelia Veracruz-Leon recommends: cleansing oneself of all negative thoughts, striving to be at one with the world and achieving harmony between body and mind.

"Hm... A dedication to the baron and his wife. Seems they had friends in high places in Vizima."


"Ever play gwent?" Geralt said. "I do, and what's more, I usually win. If you've a deck, sit down. Outplay me, and I'll give you one of my unique cards. How's that for enticement?" the baron said. "Let's lay 'em down."
The draw of the cards did not go the witcher's way...
"You're not complete shite, but you really should work on your technique. Stop by again sometime, we'll play another round," the baron said.
Neither of the men had anything better to do, and this time Geralt had better luck with his cards...
"Ah, you won. A man's only as good as his word - take the card," the baron said.
He gave Geralt the casd of Sigismund Dijkstra.
"I fear Velen's short on worthy opponents. Boat builder in Oreton might be one. There was also an old soothsayer, lived east of here near the windmill, last I heard. There's a lad... about as reasonable as an old mare, but he plays a devilish hand. In fact, I don't rightly know that you're ready for him," the baron continued.

"By blood's power I summon you, with your name I besech you. Hear my call and arise, Dea!"


"Lead me to those bound to you by blood."


Drowners... They were no match for Geralt's silver sword.

The witcher kept following the lubberkin...


"Ugh. Sure wasn't lavender they kept in there. Might be worth looking around, though."


"Clothing. They change in here? ... A bracelet. One of them must've dropped it... Horseshoe. No way a pitch burner could afford a horse. Both were here. I'm going the right way... Wants to show me something more."
Geralt followed the spirit...

"I should examine that horse carcass."


"What do we have here...? Bones have been here a while. Chewed on the saddle? Necrophages'll eat anything thee days. Giant claws. Wasn't a necrophage made these marks. Horseshoe's missing. Is this the animal that lost one in the smokehouse? Head torn clear off. Takes incredible strength. Must've been attacked by a powerful beast. Surprised 'em. Hope they got away. Hmm, trail goes on. Good thing it doesn't end here."

"A fisherman's hut. Seems she wants me to take a closer look."


"What ye seek here, sir? Our hut's out of the way, woeful. We 'as nothin', we knows nothin,'" the fisherman said. "Just need information. Looking for two women - the Bloody Baron's wife and daughter," Geralt said. "Not a soul abeen here, sir." "Sure? Not even passing through? Daughter's medium height, about twenty, her mother's thin, about forty. Seen them?" "That's her came at night, right, mummy?" "Quiet, boy!" the woman said. "Where'd the girl go? Your son's said enough, no point in playing dumb anymore," Geralt said. "Sorry, sir, but ye don't look like one of her father's men," the fisherman said. "Because I'm not. I'm looking for Tamara and her mother, I need to know they're alive and safe." "Tamara is, aye. She's to my brother's place in Oxenfurt. But Missus Anna - that's another tale... Though anywhere's better than Crow's Perch... with the baron," he said. "Why?" "Cause... 'cause he beather, sir. Beat Missus Anna. Everyone knew! But not a none lifted a finger for to stop it." "What happened to Tamara's mother?" Geralt said. "Ach. 'Twere like this - I was awaitin' in the old smoke house, with horses. Cold as hell and so dark, couldn't see past two ells in front of ye. Moon 'ad arisen high, and still they hadn't come. Began to fear a demon 'ad snatched 'em. But finally they came forth, and we sets off towards the river. Suddenly, out of nowhere a gale arose. Thought it'd tear my head off! And those damned birds! Swarms of 'em coursin' o'er the woods, raisin' a racket to make your ears bleed! Missus Anna screamed, bent over into herself. Tamara knelt down, gripped her arms. 'Twere then I saw it - fiery marks on her hands," the fisherman said.


"What marks?" Geralt wondered. "They's... well... like burned on with hot iron... on the palms, inside," the fisherman said. "Burned? Like a cattle brand?" "Aye, though these wasn't black scars, scabbed over. They's hot and glowin' as if they burned with raw fire." "Fine, what happened next?" the witcher said. "Grew even darker, seemed someone 'ad put out the stars. Crickets all went silent of a sudden, and then, from the woods, a roar. Broke out in cold sweat, and afore I could catch my breath a beast jumped out o' the woods - big as a barn, with horns and two burning coals for eyes! I thought I was done for! Beast attacked Missus Anna's horse, ripped its head off! Carried her off into the woods!" the fisherman said.

"Our horses, mine and Missus Tamara's, got spooked and tore off willy-nilly. 'Twere the only reason we escaped! The miss wanted to go back for her mother, but my wife pleaded, said she'd die out there alone. Miss Tamara agreed not to go," the fisherman said. "Why help them at all? You risked a lot," Geralt said. "I'd a debt, owed Miss Tamara. Three moons past a fever gripped my boy. We thought he was done for. Tamara learnt it, brought food and salves. We're poorer than dirt itself... She saved my boy, no two ways about it. Me. myself, I'd a never dared to help. But my missus told me, 'A time of war and contempt's come, a time of folk gone wrong. We needs to repay good with good. Who stands idly by does evil as if.'" "Married a wise woman," Geralt said. "Cryin's shame we couldn't save Missus Anna in the end."


"Thanks for your help," Geralt said. "The lady - she'll be all right in the end, won't she?" the boy said. "I'll do what I can to see that she is."


"So here our paths diverge. Thank you, Dea. Go in pace."

"Halt! Stand and duel! I challenge you!" "Boots a bit big, maybe? Careful not to trip," Geralt said. "Halt, I say! I am Ronvid of the Small Marsh, bound by a sacred oath..." "Ooh, that's rough. My sympathies." "... to honor Maid Bilberry, fairest of all maids I know, by dueling a hundred knights to the death. Now drawn your sword posthaste, for I've ninety-nine left after you," the man said. "Hm, why are you challenging me? Don't recall doing anything to offened the Maid Bilberry." "Well... Why... Uhm... Then swear - swear Maid Bilberry's the most loveliest of all!" "Thing is, I've never lai eyes on her," the witcher said. "Ahah! Ahh! I shall wash your scorn away with blood, fiend! Stand and fight!"
It didn't take much forGeralt to defeat the man. He knew he was no match for the witcher and he had no intention of harming the man - permanently. It just took one whack with the flat of Geralt's sword and the fight was over.
"Had enough?" the witcher said. "Yes, luck stood with you! B-but the next time we meet..." "Go back to Maid Bilberry and apologize for being an ass. Quick, before I change my mind and break your bones." "We shall meet again!" the man said.


"Remember me?" "Stable hand. Pulled you out of the fire," Geralt said. "Won't ever forget that. here, I'm grateful."
The stable hand gave the witcher 20 Crowns.


"Witcher - a word, please," Sergeant Ardal said. "What is it?" Geralt said. "That night when the baron ordered everyone to lock their doors, stay inside - what did you and the baron do?" "Gotta ask the baron that. Speaking of which, know where he is?" "Garden. Spends a lot of time sittin' there of late," Ardal said. "Drunk." "No. Don't drink, don't eat... just sits."

"See the hollyhock there? The violet blooms? Brought the plants here from Nazair. Anna had read some story. Insisted on having them. Spent hours tending to them, trimming, pruning. She was so content at that! And them - the frilyy ones? Called 'birds of paradise' in Zerrikania. But Tamara called them 'dragons of paradise.' She adored them. Damn shame I'll never learn which blooms would please Dea most. Though it's good to know her spirit's free," the baron said. "Your loss - it must hurt, bad. But there wasn't anything we could do," Geralt said. "No, not now, not anymore. It was too late, that was clear... Shoulda acted earlier, taken them all from this damned Velen. In this hole, this reasty mire... nothing could go right here." "Got some information about your family." "You've learned something? Let's go inside. It's a bit chilly out," the baron said.


"Any news for me?" the baron said. "Your daughter's in Oxenfurt," Geralt said. "What the blazes...?! She all right? In good health? Safe? Why haven't you brought her back?!" "Never offered to do that." "How do you know she's safe? You see her at least?" the baron said. "No, but I talked to the man who helped her escape, and then took her in. Tamara is safe and sound. From what I've gathered, she has no desire to see you again, no intention to return." "I shan't trust some peasant dolt. I shan't trust whoever helped her! I need to know for certain she's safe! Go to her. You must be sure, see her yourself. I shan't believe anyone else." "That must I can do," the witcher said. "I'm grateful. Take this - call it enticement. And this might prove useful. A lette of safe conduct. Ever since the Redanians took hold of the Pontar Delta, they've made it damned hard to get to Novigrad without one. You were to find them both. What of Anna? Learned anything?" "Nothing yet. But I'm on her trail." "Well, what're you waitin' for?" the baron said. "For you to tell me about Ciri. Like e agreed," Geralt said. "Huh, fine. A word once given..."

"When Ciri was on the mend, we took her out on a hunt. Thought a bit o' gallopin' would warm up her limbs gone stiff from so much bed rest," the baron said.


"That lass of yours - pure luck in the flesh. To hunt down a wild boar that size - why, worthy of one of King Foltest's feasts, were he still among the living," Ardal said. "Ciri! Come! Whole haunch should be yours, as I see it!" the baron said. "Aye, you done well, lass," Ardal said. "Not bad, not bad at all, but who goes boar huntin' with a sword?" "Heheheh. Well, you brandished it beautifully. Where'd they teach you that, anyway?" "At Kaer Morhen," Ciri said. "Withers' school there, aye. But they only took lads, as I recall." "They made an exception for me," she said. "Right. Mean to say you're a she-witcher?" "Not entirely. The mutations - I was never subjected to them. But everything else I know, I learned from the witchers there," she said. "Know any of them potions?" "Not so much. A bit," Ciri said. "Cause you see, atimes I get this pincin' back here..." "Shut it, Ygrin. Nobody cares about your backside!" "A woman could swing a sword - I've knowed one. But never seen a lady mount anythin' but a cock proper. All tipsy on 'orseback. Nothin' strange on account they bloody mount them sideways," the stablehand said.


"Perhaps you'd care a wager?" Ciri said. "Think you can outrun me on an 'orse? Hahahah, naturally! What's at stake?" he said. "Black mare. The one in the stable." "Oh, that won't do at all..." "Well that's an awfully gloomy face. Too much a coward to race a woman?" she said. "The horse is mine," the baron said. "To race the baron himself - I'd consider it an honor." "Oh.oh! That'd be a sight to behold!" Ardal said. "Would it ever!" "Done. But if I win, I take your sword," the baron said. "Agreed," Ciri said. "I'd not drink anymore this night. You'll want your head about you. We start at daybreak," he said.

"The day dawns," Ciri said. "As ever. First to the tower," the baron said.


The baron took the initial lead but Ciri quickly overtook him...


"You're wind, not woman! Worthy of the best horse! The mare is yours!" the baron said. "Thank you," Ciri said.
Then the calm was suddenly broken...


"She screamed like a madwoman. In an instant, all had forgotten the wager. Every man ran - to save their skin, even were he to break his nick," the baron said. "And? They make it?" Geralt said. "Some, aye. Others were not so fortunate. But what happened then... I must say, wither - seen a lot, but nothing like this, never." "Uh oh, I know that look." "You're a fast learner. You'll know the rest once you find my wife," the baron said. "Working on it." "And making piss poor progress." "They split up - hadn't considered that possibility before. But don't worry, I'll find Anna, too," Geralt said.

"Wait, witcher! When you find my daughter, will you give her this?" the baron said.


"A rag doll?" "Uh.huh."


"What do they call you? Know how to fight?" the bookie said. "Geralt. And yes." "Hah. Then enter the lists, my friend!" "I'm ready to fight," Geralt said. "Good folk! Fishgulper's finally found a foe! Right here, right now, on the field of honour, he'll face none other than Geralt of Rivia, the, uh... Hammer!"
The opponent approached the witcher...
"Spare me a minute 'fore the fight, master? Please... Cut o' your mug's plain as day. What'm I beside ye? I ust wanna live... These days streams're bereft, no fish for me to gulp... and they's givin' a sack o' flour to the winner. Show some pity. Take a fall for me," he said. "All right. So be it."


"Don't know how it happened, but Fishgilper's swallowed the Hammer!" the bookie said. "Thanks, witcher," Fishgulper said. "So, will you try again?" the bookie asked.
Geralt nodded.
"Geralt the Hammer versu Fishgulper! The rematch!" the bookie said.
This time Geralt didn't hold back and easily defeated his opponent.
"Not bad, not bad. Time to try your luck against Jonah... And then there's Smithy at the Inn at the Crossroads. Go to it, friend," the bookie said.

"Ooh, aye?" "Here about the contract. Any idea what this moster is?" Geralt said. "Nay, but proper huge it must be. Slaughtered no les tha a dozen wolves. Ripped their guts out, but left lots uneaten. Means malice rules it, makes it kill. Howls and bellows nights somethin' fierce. Folk're afeared to venture into the woods, though hunger grips the village." "Could tend to the beast for you... but not for free." "How much d'ye need?" the village elder asked. "That's a sum we can agree to," he said. "Fine. I'll take care of it," the witcher said. "Fortune smiled upon us when it brought you here. Good huntin' to ye!"


"Help! By the gods, save me!"
The necrophages were easily dealth with by the witcher.
"They'd 'ave eaten me alive for certain. Corpses must've drawn 'em. Thank ye for not leavin' me there. Seems luck's with me atimes after all." "Luck? Guess things could be worse. You get infected recently? That why you haul corpses?" Geralt said. "Wha? No - it's me job. Well paid, too." "Hm. Thing is, you're not a witcher or a mage, so you're not immune..." "I'm no foul mutant, thank the gods, but no worries, nay! It's just, well, no illness ever holds me," he said. "How'd this happen?" Axle snapped first. So, I poked me head underneth, see if I could fix it. Then outa the blue... a howl from the woods. My mare reared as if a wolf had already clinched he hind. The cart tippe and - whoa! The cargo fell right on top me." "Your horse run off?" the witcher said. "Aye, damn thing bolted. Ain't that my luck? If it don't rain, a wagon o' stiffs pours on me head." "Gonna need a new cart - gotta burn this one. Soon." "Can't I just bury the stifs somewhere near? Cart's still fit for fixin'..." he said. "Anyone learns you carried plague victims in it, no one'll ever hire you again." "Why would they need to learn? I won't tell if you don't..." "... and you'll spread the pox for miles around," Geralt said. "Ooh. Needs must, I suppose. Got anythin' to start a fire with?"


"Am I ever lucky I ran into ye. Thanks for your help, and wise council," he said. "Here's some more: go home, burn those clothes, and scrub yourself thoroughly," Geralt said. "Oh, sure, sure. But I tell ye, true - no blight can touch me!" "sure hope so. Farewell."

The journey to Oxenfurt continued...

"Halt! No passage." "Case of the plague surface in the city or something?" Geralt wondered. "The plague? Errr, no. We're not to let folk in the city. It's an order, so I don't. Unless someone's got a pass," the soldier said. "Who ordered the city gates closed?" "Word is, the king himself. Doesn't want paupers and refugees pissing all over his beaautiful city. Apart from which, when folk can go hither and thither, always a chance some spy'll slink through. This way, spy's got it harder... So, no pass, no passage." "What kind of pass are we talking about?" the witcher said. "Well, a normal one, a transit pass." "Who issues them?" "How should I know? I'm a lowly soldier..." he said. "This what you mean?" "Let me look at that... Hmm... Hmm... Missing a seal, the red one." "Impossible..." Geralt said. "Department of Civil Defense, forgot again... They're really off their heads these days. Happens. So be it. You may come through," the soldier said.

"I'm looking for Tamara, the Bloody Baron's daughter. Your brother said I'd find her here," Geralt said. "Voytek send you, sir?" "How else would I know she was here?" "Wait a moment. I'll fetch her straight away."


"You're looking for me. And who might you be? My father send you?" Tamara said. "Yeah. To see if you're still alive. And well. I'm Geralt of Rivia," the witcher said. "I'm quite alive and extraordinarily well, Geralt of Rivia. Better than I've been in this rotten life of mine. And now that you've seen me, I bid you farewell. We've nothing more to talk about." "Your father's a vile man. You're angry and bitter - can't blame you." "Why do you help him then? Why did you take this job?" she said. "Because he knows something about someone dear to me. Promised to tell me if I found you and your mother." "Got it. A bit of blackmail - just his style. Well, now you've found me, you can tell him I'm alive and I'm bever coming back." "Before I agreed to look for you, your father told me his version of evebts. Tell me yours," he said. "Mine? It's dull as life amidst the swamps. My earliest memories are of a drunken father lying under the stairs, caked in mud clutching a bottle. Next dozen years, pretty much the same. Father would drink, disappear for days, then come home in a rage and send furniture flying. Thank the gods for war. I was glad every time they sent him off. And the quarrels... I remember him screaming at mum, the thuds as he beat her, then her sobbing. I'd hide under my bed and long for silence. That's the long and short of it. Multiply by ninetenn and there you have my life. Finally we'd had enough, mum and me. He crossed the line and we fled." "I don't mean to pry but... I know your mother had a miscarriage." "His doing! He shoved her, she fell - that's how it started. We were alone, no one to help, blood everywhere... Worst night of my life," Tamara said. "Sorry... must've been hard, for you both." "Mum was in shock, she was raving that it was better this way, that she never wanted the child! Must've had a fever - she was losing blood the whole time." "She didn't want the child?" Geralt said. "Said she'd sooner cut open her gut than bear another child from his seed."

"Voytek claims your mother had strange marks on her hands... and that a monster dragged her into the woods. That true?" Geralt said. "We were riding towards the river. Suddenly mum cried out, bent over, almost fell off her horse. I rode up to her and saw something strange - her hands were on fire. And then that creature leapt from the woods! I don't know what it was but it roared so fierce my nose bled. I saw it topple trees - I've never been so scared in my life! That... that thing grabbed my mum and disappeared into the woods! I wanted to turn back, go after them, but the horses panicked! Now I don't even know if she's alive," Tamara said. "What will you do now?" "Find my mum." "You realize that might not be that easy," he said. "Don't worry, I'm not daftenough to believe I can do it alone. I've got some new friends now. Powerful friends. They'll help me." "Who are these friends? If it is not a secret." "No secret. Heard of the Church of Eternal Fire? A priest helped me contact the Redanian witch hunters. Righteous brave men. They'll help me," she said. "Hence the candlesticks in your room. So, you believe in the Eternal Fire." "Once the heat of the Fire set your heart aflame, it gives you strength and leads you down the path of truth for the rest of your life. I hope it'll bless you with its warmth one day." "Thanks. Thing is, fire's tricky. It's easy to get burned. What about your father?" the witcher said. "Who? Oh, him. I don't care. I won't go back to him. That bit of my life - forgotten already," Tamara said.


"Well, well... a witcher. Never thought the baron would stoop to hiring a monster slayer. Though I hear you're good at tracking things down." "Glad you know who I am. Haven't introduced yourself, though," Geralt said. "Graden, witch hunter in the service of His Royal Highness Radovid of Redania. I'm certain you've heard of us," he said. "Rings a bell." "If the Bloody Baron sent you to fetch his daughter, you'd best face it - you will fail in your task." "I appreciate your concern, but I don't need it. As for Tamara, she can make her own decisions," the witcher said. "Hmm, akh akh... Noble of you. A killer for hire abandoning his bounty for the good of another. The hunters and the Church of Eternal Fire thank you. So the baron hired a witcher to find his daughter. Interesting." "Where are you gonna take her?" "Tamara must rest. She's had a harrowing experience. When the warmth of the Eternal Fire has restored her strength, we shall see about finding her mother," Graden said. "Before you go, your father asked me to give you this," Geralt said. "Clara? Father told you to give me Clara? Funny how he thought to buy me back with a memory. Tell him one gesture could never make up for a ruined childhood. So long, witcher. In spite of all... well, I'm grateful you gave me a choice, didn't force me to go back to the tyrant," Tamara said. "Hope you know what you're getting yourself into. So long. And good luck."

"We don't serve lushes, shavers, caretakers or students from Philosophers' Hall." "Do I lokk like a, um... any of the people from that list?" Geralt said. "Doesn't hurt to check. Just so it's clear how things stand," the innkeep said. "So what'd they do to you, the students from..." "Rather not talk on it, all right? What's your poison?" "I heard you play Gwent," the witcher said. "Not just with anybody and always for high stakes. With you - I might."
So, the witcher and the innkeeper played a game that Geralt won easily after making the inkeep use his best cards in the first round.
"I don't like losin', but that don't mean I don't do it with grace. The card and the prize are yours," the innkeep said. "You been playing a while. Gotta know where I can find some interesting cards," Geralt said. "In Novigrad, there's Oliver the innkeeper. He plays, though he's far beneath my level. Closer, in Velen, there's the barkeep at the inn at the Crossroads."

"What's going on here? Why isn't anyone putting that out?" Geralt said. "We want it to burn, got it?" "Piss off or we'll fry you along with that fuckin' elf." "There's a third way out of this situation," the witcher said.


Those deserters were no match for the witcher. Geralt rescued the victim from the fire.
"What was this about? Why's they want to burn you alive?" he said.


"They came to rob me. I refused to betray where I keep my valuables, so they brought a cart full of firewood, barred me inside and set fire to the thing," she said. "Probably counting on you being swayed. Though I doubt they would've let you live even if you'd talked," Geralt said. "I've yet to thank you, vatt'ghern. My coin lies concealed in a hollowed-out stupm behind the house. Take what you wish. It's dangerous to possess too much in these times." "Thank you. Farewell."
Travelling along the road, the witcher came across a group of deserters and a merchant they had locked in a cage...


"Look for me stall by the bridge 'cross the Pontar. Got goods for the army, mostly... but I'll make an exception for you!" the grateful merchant said.