The Witcher: A Fury of Fate and Feathers

The Watching Eyes

 The rain left puddles on the rut-ridden road of Fisherman's Reach, the silent homes on either side dark as the grave. A stranger on horseback trekked past the pitch-black huts, cats lounging on windowsills and on doorsteps began to take notice, the hair on the back of their necks standing on edge, backs arching as they began to spit and hiss, their cacophonies ringing through the night. The stranger took no notice of the cats that ran from underfoot, his eyes trained directly on the keep that stood on a hill overlooking the small encampment, but his mount did. The horse nickered anxiously, and a gloved hand reached down to pat the beast's neck reassuringly.

"Easy now, Roach." The stranger grumbled, the sack at his hip lurching slightly as he leaned forward, threatening to tumble to the ground. Quick as a whip, the stranger had it back in place, the horse never losing stride as it moved towards the keep's walls. The braziers became full and lit as he drew closer, a group of men in the distance. The stranger kept the hood of his traveling cloak lowered as he approached the light, keeping his gaze down as the men adorned in what he saw was now armor approached him. The house's emblem stood out against the ramshackle iron they wore, the bronze tree reaching up to the sun above, the roots growing deep into the earth. They belonged to the House of Northwood, a surprising revelation for the stranger since the last time he had been here; it had been in the control of House Evereck.

"What is your business here, stranger?" One asked, reaching up to put his hand on the horse's neck, only to see that the horse was glistening with blood, the light from the lanterns making its coat shimmer as it breathed. "We don't get many Witchers this side of Temeria."

The man glanced at the guard, his flaxen eyes glinting in the light, "Found a contract in Craag An concerning a Baskilisk in the Auriel mountains. Just came to collect what is rightfully mine."

The guard looked at his companion in shock and fear, "Sir...You need not disturb his humble Lordship this late in the evening. Perhaps you would feel more comfortable staying at the lodge or..."

"No," The stranger's gravelly voice was sharp, a hint of ice in his voice. "I was not planning on spending the evening in this town. I was to collect my reward and be on my way."

The hesitation plastered on the men's faces was apparent to the stranger. Finally, the first one who had approached him turned to his fellow comrade, "Ride up to Arlcliff and let the steward know Lord Northwood has a visitor." He looked the man up and down suspiciously, "Make sure the guards are aware as well."

The man nodded, took a torch, and walked towards a horse that seemed oblivious in the darkness. He took the mount, tapped its haunches twice, and bolted up the hill, his torch disappearing into the woods that lined the incline as he galloped into the night. The stranger and the guard stood in a pregnant silence as the man vanished from sight, both overseeing the other.

"I'm sure you have many stories to tell, Witcher." The guard said tightly as the stranger allowed a dry laugh to escape from beneath his cloak.

"I guess I do," He replied simply as the man cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he stepped aside.

"I believe you may as well go up to Arlcliff now. There is no sense in you staying here," He responded simply as the stranger nodded and urged Roach forward. The wind was cold against his face, the moisture from the previous rain clinging to the skin of his ghostly face as he urged the horse along. The road became dark once again as he moved away from where the guards had stood, but he was able to see clearly, steering the horse from any danger in its path.

'It's too quiet," The Witcher thought to himself, the eerie silence pressing down around him. Using his Witcher senses, he watched the woods intently, but not even a squirrel stirred.