(F/N) finished adjusting the new saddle on Nosfer's back. The mare let out a sigh of relief as the rough uncomfortable one was finally removed. (F/N) set it down on the hitching post, he could get a couple crowns if he sold it for parts. He had decided to take Nosfer straight to the Rosemary, he could sleep there, have Zoltan watch over Nosfer, and it would save him a lot of coin. When the witcher walked back into the former brothel it looked like an entirely different room. Zoltan had gotten rid of all the trash and organized the tables, so it actually looked like a respectable establishment.
The dwarf, was happily smiling and chatting with an owl. The bird was chained to a post so it wouldn't fly off, he was happily speaking to it, "How're you keepin', Poppy? Miss your Zoltan, you old bird? Now repeat: Savorrrry crrrrrackerrrrs."
(F/N) walked up to Zoltan and glanced at the owl, it's white and grey feathers looked slightly ruffled, and it had a visor over it's eyes so it couldn't see. The witcher frowned at Zoltan, "What are you doing?"
Immediately, the owl seemed to tense up almost, Zoltan smiled when he saw the witcher, "Ah, you're back! You met Poppy? She ought to start talkin' any day now."
(F/N) glanced at the owl, he reached out a hand to pet her, "You do realize she's an owl not a parrot, right?"
The dwarf had a mischievous look in his eye, "Sure you know me that well, lad? Mark, my words, she'll be playin' gwent with us in no time." (F/N) rolled his eyes, Zoltan liked Gwent way too much, even for a dwarf. (F/N) dabbled in it a bit, but he got bored after a while, he always ended up winning to often. As the witcher touched the owl, she immediately squawked loudly and bit his finger.
"Ow!" (F/N) pulled his finger away, Poppy flapped her wings and squawked louder, she clearly didn't like him. He didn't have any good experiences with owls. Zoltan laughed, "Huh, never seen her do that. You alright? She take your finger off?"
(F/N) flexed his finger slightly, "I'm fine, damn owl. I hate owls." The dwarf laughed, "How about we talk about Dandelion, and not owls? What'd you learn?"
The witcher gave the white owl a look, it seemed to be looking back at him, he had the feeling if it's eyes weren't covered it would have been glaring at him. (F/N) turned his attention back to Zoltan, "Almost nothing, except for stories of Dandelion's escapades, and a name. Apparently he'd been seeing her behind their backs. I think she might be a succubus who has him under her spell. Dandelion never mentioned her on the list."
Zoltan scratched his beard, the look of concern was evident, "Hmm...What's she supposedly like, this lass?"
The witcher repeated everything he knew, "Looks like she's from Kovir, blonde, obviously beautiful. A trobairitz. Goes by the name Callonetta. Although those could all be lies from the succubus."
The dwarf burst out laughing, "Ha! That makes it crystal clear. He's under her spell, but she's no succubus. It's Priscilla, aye - must be her."
(F/N) squinted his eyes, he had been so sure about Dandelion being bewitched by a succubus. Maybe this Priscilla was a sorceress?
"Who's Priscilla?"
"A trobaritiz, like you said. Quite popular as of late. Picture Dandelion with a pair o' tits and you've got the general idea. She's to him, what Ciri is to you."
(F/N) shook off the analogy, and focused in his shock, "Wait...you mean...Dandelion's..."
Zoltan nodded, the hilarity of this wasn't lost on him, "Yep, he's in love."
The witcher stood there in disbelief, as long as he had known the troubadour, he had only loved four things: his lute, his ballads, his poetry, and himself. "Well, this Priscilla must really be something if she's captured his heart."
"Oh you've no idea. Reminds me of you, when you were a wee lad. All you ever did was talk about Ciri. The laddes head is on fire."
(F/N) ignored how Zoltan seemed to believe he was still head over heels in love with Ciri. He wasn't, he didn't have feelings for her, not anymore, "Well we need to talk to her, then. Any idea where we can find her?"
"Aye, that I do have. Priscilla works with a mummers' troupe - 'Renarde and the Foxen.' Whenever they're in town, they perform nightly at the Kingfisher." The dwarf grabbed a flyer from off a table and handed it to the witcher, he groaned and gritted his teeth, "You mean we have to sit through a bunch of snotty people complaining about life?"
Zoltan rolled his eyes, "Must ye always? This'll be true poetry, (F/N). You'll see."
The witcher folded his arms, "Fine, I won't heckle from the crowd and I'll save the tomato throwing to the end."
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It was late at night when Zoltan and (F/N) walked into the Kingfisher, an inn, a very nice one at that. Unfortunately, that meant almost no non-humans. The witcher ignored the dirty looks he and Zoltan were receiving, one man even spat on him. The inn was filled with people, who were all staring at the stage, hoping to see the very best music and poetry. (F/N) loathed poetry with a passion, but he did have a certain draw to music. Zoltan smacked his side, "Ah! A fairly busy night. Come on, let's find some arse-rests. Should start soon."
The lights dimmed as the witcher and the dwarf managed to squeeze in between a pair of ungrateful patrons of the arts. As the witcher sat down, he looked up on stage, a beautiful woman walked onto the stage. She bowed lightly, causing the talking crowd to slowly grow silent. (F/N) looked at her, her blonde hair was shining as it was swept back. She was wearing a tight corset that made her figure look perfect. The witcher felt his eyes linger a bit to long as he examined the woman's red and blue unitard. To say she was the most beautiful woman in the room, was an understatement. The witcher knew that this was Priscilla, even before Zoltan nudged him. She had a fiery look in her eyes, one of mischief, she had the same passion for poetry and songs, she even had a red bonnet with an egret's feather. No wonder Dandelion was in love, she was his female counterpart.
(F/N) watched in fascination, as she slowly strummed her loot, the tune was flawless, it drew everyone in the crowded inn to complete silence. The witcher felt his thoughts go numb, when she started singing, her voice was angelic. She sang about pain, of love, passion, of long lost lovers, her voice was beauty. The words were new yet they sounded so familiar and perfect.
(F/N) saw a woman turn to her man and start weeping softly into his chest. Many women were crying at the words. The witcher felt something in his chest, longing and sadness, emotions that were not easily brought to him. But this Priscilla was able to do so with just her voice. He was reminded of the time that he and Ciri shared their first kiss, he closed his eyes, and recalled her rosy red cheeks, her snow covered hair, her beautiful smile. He turned and saw that even Zoltan had his eyes closed and was slowly strumming along, he was equally as entranced. As Priscilla sang even some of the men began to weep, reminded of love, tragedy, and hope. The trobaritizs was able to paint a picture of life, in it's many colors. It was a privilege to witness this. She had a voice that would make a siren jealous.
(F/N) was almost upset when she stopped singing, she sat there silently on stage for a moment. Everyone in the inn suddenly thundered with applause, all of them happy, all of them entranced by the song. (F/N) was one of the many clapping. He wondered if he saw in Priscilla what women saw in Dandelion? He didn't doubt it. The trobaritiz stood and bowed to the crowd before walking off stage. (F/N) stood up and kept clapping, he was truly impressed. Then he heard a shrill voice, yell through the applause, "I know him!" The witcher stopped applauding, he turned and saw her, the innkeeper from White Orchard, "Twas him that murdered some Temerian boys in White Orchard with the other witcher freaks!"
A man hissed, "Silence woman. We've come to hear music."
A woman looked at (F/N) as though she was terrified, "A murderous mutant?!"
(F/N) shook his head, "I'm just hear to listen to music."
Another men scoffed and looked at (F/N) as if he was the problem, "Oh, please, your kind is always plotting something. Go steal children in another city."
The witcher turned to the man and glowered at him, when a nobleman saw the argument and yelled out, "Squabbles and rows again! And I was told this was a decent establishment!"
Suddenly, Zoltan spoke to defend his friend, "If I know (F/N), he risked his arse to save someone else, always."
The woman snarled back, and yelled back, "Save, you say?! He murdered folk!"
The man behind him threw his mead on (F/N) right in the face, "Murderer, won't even show his face!"
In a flash, the witcher spun around and grabbed the man by the collar, he pulled him forward slightly. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to make him very uncomfortable, instantly the inn went silent, people weren't staring at the man who had instigated the attack, but the man who had defended himself. (F/N) felt many sets of eyes on him, he was a non-human freak that was touching a 'normal' human. The witcher let the man go, he looked at his fingernails, they looked thicker and had grown slightly, no one looked as if they noticed.
Suddenly, he felt someone gently put a hand on his shoulder, he turned his head and saw Priscilla standing there, she spoke in a soft voice, "Come," she knew who he was. The trobaritiz turned and started walking through the crowd. The witcher followed after her, he could feel the crowds glares, but he didn't give them a reaction they were looking for. As soon as he was far away enough, they went back to talking about other things. Priscilla led (F/N) and Zoltan to a quiet corner in the inn, the dwarf smiled at the woman, "Permit me to introduce...err...This here's Priscilla, known also as Callonetta. As lovely as she is talented."
Priscilla gave a friendly smile to the witcher, he returned the gesture with a nod. Zoltan continued the introductions, "And this is..."
The trobaritiz finished the thought, "...Is (F/N) (L/N), I know. Dandelion's told me a great deal about you, and I've listened with bated breath."
The witcher smiled, unsure of what the troubadour would say about him, Priscilla answered again, in a very Dandelion-like way, "Don't be surprised. After all, doubt I could think of a more fitting subject than two child of surprises love for each other. You only hear about that sort of things in poems."
(F/N) growled slightly, "Damn it. That's the last time I tell him anything. I should know better than to tell a bard anything important...Did Dandelion tell you anything important about himself? Like where he is right now?"
Priscilla burst out in laughter, but her eyes looked nervous, "Splendid! Very funny, truly! Please do tell me more about how you vanquished that slizard." (F/N) and Zoltan were visibly confused, the trobaritiz sighed and walked past them both, "Not here. Come with me." The witcher and the dwarf shared a look, they both knew that Dandelion was in some serious shit.
The singer led the two men into a backroom and quickly shut the door, making sure that they were alone. (F/N) leaned against the wall, he wiped some of the mead off of himself,"Is there a reason why we're sneaking around so much?"
Priscilla leaned against a table, "An excellent one...When last I saw Dandelion, he told me he was planning a heist - Sigi Reuven's vault."
Zoltan turned nearly as grey as (F/N), "Sheep dip."
The trobaritiz nodded, she had a sad look on her face, "And I've not seen him since."
The witcher tilted his head, "Sigi Reuven? Who's he?"
Priscilla scoffed, and shook her head, "You really haven't been in Novigrad for long. He's one of the biggest crime bosses in Novigrad. You might not know about him, but he probably knows about you. He's got connections. A lot of connections."
(F/N) rubbed his face, which smelled of ale, "And Dandelion decided to try to steal from him, and knowing him, it went very very wrong."
The trobaritiz nodded, "Well he's not driven up in some gilded carriage laden with jewels, so yeah, probably. I've asked after him everywhere, but it seems an army of tongue-stealing cats has overrun the city. I learned only recently that he raised a ruckus at Whoreson Junior's lair. Then Whoreson's men chased him all over town."
"And this Whoreson Junior...is bad?"
The singer gave him a look, and Zoltan spoke up, "Biggest prick in Novigrad. Not literally, but..."
"You don't need to finish. He hate non-humans?"
Priscilla laughed, "And humans. He's one of four bosses who control the city's underworld - the others being Sigi Reuven, Carlo 'The Cleaver' Varese and the King of Beggars."
Zoltan growled at how much shit Dandelion was in, "The rascal...at least he didnae cross the Church as well, bring that venerable institution into it. We'd be in deep, then."
(F/N) slowly realized what this meant, "So I have to rescue Dandelion...again. Damn it. I should start charging my services."
The trobaritiz sighed, and started tapping her foot, "Wherever he is, I sincerely doubt he's in the mood for jokes. Nor am I, in fact."
The witcher squeezed the ale out of his hood with his fingers, "Calm down, I'm an expert in getting him out of trouble. The first thing I need to do is find Sigi Reuven and Whoreson Junior, if they're holding Dandelion, maybe I can convince them to let him go. Where can I find them?"
The dwarf spoke up, "I've no idea about Whoreson, but Reuven runs a bathhouse. Careful, though...he's a dangerous character. He might not faint at the sight of your ugly mug."
(F/N) looked at the dwarf, he was already in a foul mood, "He'd probably scream and run away if he saw you."
Priscilla sighed and took her bonnet with the egrets feather off, and wiped her face off, "Please, Dandelion's life is at stake. Please hurry. Let me know if you find anything."
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(F/N) banged on the door to the bathhouse, it was under the road, and a bunch of rough looking goons were standing by giving him odd looks. "Hello? Open up."
The witcher sighed and turned away, he ran his gloved hands over his face. It was moments like this that he wished he could turn into mist. (F/N) kicked the door a few times and knocked on it more, "Open up!"
Suddenly a high voice spoke up from the other side of the door, "What's the fuss? The bathhouse is invitation only."
The witcher growled, he wasn't in the mood, "I have an invitation, but you have to open the door for me to see it."
"Slide it under the door."
(F/N) sighed, and clenched his fist, "I just need to see Sigi Reuven. It's a matter of the utmost importance."
The voice sounded as if it was teasing him, "Well...he's terribly busy."
The man sighed, his options were limited, "Tell him, a witcher wants to see him."
The voice giggled slightly, "I cannot promise Mr. Reuven will have time to see you."
(F/N) sighed, "He will."
The voice behind the door giggled, "Very well, I shall see. Please wait."
The witcher leaned against one of the pillars holding the tunnel up, he waited for about a minute before the door unlocked and the doors swung open. A bald, fat man, with a dumb smile on his face greeted him, "Sigi Reuven cordially invites you to join him. I'm Happen." The servant bowed respectfully and gestured for him to come inside.
As the witcher walked in he saw two nicely dressed guards standing by the doors, as he walked in they closed the doors behind him. Happen smiled at him, "The meeting is in the baths. We will pass through the dressing room, so you can leave your clothes."
(F/N) raised his brow, "I'm afraid my clothes will have to stay on. I have a skin condition."
The servant smiled, "Ohhh that won't work, your sword will rust ohhh so fast, and your clothes will be ruined. Besides, no one cares, about a silly condition, they won't care. It's just your beautiful body."
The witcher stared at Happen, he was creeping him out, "Will my sword be looked after? Without it I can't work."
The man nodded, and smiled, "Mmmmmhhhhhmmmmm."
(F/N) stared at him, "Mhm as in it will be looked after, or Mhm as in you understand I can't work." The servant didn't respond. The witcher sighed and shook his head, he headed to the dressing room. If anyone tried to attack him he'd just use the Ignii sign.
As the witcher got undressed he looked at his face in a mirror, it had been a while since he had seen his reflection. He had a lot more scars then when he had started this journey for Ciri. He looked at his chest, his veins were becoming visible under his graying skin. The curse on him was getting worse, it was disfiguring him more quickly. He slowly slid his lips back with his finger and saw that he now had fangs instead of his regular teeth. (F/N) sighed as he finished undressing, he hated to admit it, but he was starting to get scared.
How would this curse end? He could only be disfigured so much. Would it kill him? Would it turn him into a monster? (F/N) didn't know. He just knew he was getting worse. In a way he was cursed, just being a witcher did that. He was doomed to live centuries, without aging. To watch the ones he cared for wither and die. It was his hell. The witcher put those thoughts out of his mind. They weren't important. He wrapped a towel around his waist and put a hot wet towel on his neck. Hopefully his skin wouldn't start to fall off because of the hot steam. The witcher had nothing but his viper medallion and a towel. When the witcher opened the door, Happen was standing right outside waiting for him, "Splendid! Sigi Reuven awaits you in the next room."
The servant led (F/N) into the bathhouse, immediately he was hit with a blast of steam, he felt his muscles loosen. He could hear the heart rates of every man and woman there, they were all calm. Almost no one even gave him a second look, except the women, they would always wink or make a suggestive comment, especially the one's who were topless. The witcher relaxed, as much as a witcher was allowed, he only anticipated for the men pulling out knives and trying to kill him. Nothing monster related.
(F/N) followed Happen, until he led him to another door, it looked as though it was a private steam room. The witcher heard a very familiar voice, "Easy, Clever..." (F/N)'s eyes widened, he muttered "no, it can't be."
He slowly opened and walked through the door, there were three men in the steam room, one was a very large man, he had his back turned to him, his bald head shined. The other was a dwarf with a lot of tattoos covering his body, he was angrily pacing, and shouted, "Whoreson Junior's a dead man. I'll have my scribe send you a notice," the witcher assumed that was Cleaver.
The third man, had as many tattoos as the dwarf, it was the King of Beggars, he was facing towards (F/N). He smiled at the witcher, then turned his attention back to Cleaver, "You don't have a scribe. And we'll eliminate Junior when, and only when, all of us say 'aye.' Oh and Reuven, you've a guest."
The large man turned around, Sigi Reuven gave (F/N) a look, he seemed happy and angry to see him at the same time. Of course, Sigi Reuven wasn't his real name, Sigismund Dijkstra was a man of many identities. (F/N) hated the spy. The witcher glanced at his nose, it was still crooked from the time he had broken it. Of course, compared to Geralt he hadn't done much, his master had broken his leg.
The dwarf spoke in a blunt voice, "Why the fuck you let 'im in here?"
Dijkstra looked at Cleaver and spat back, "Because I want to talk to him. This is (F/N) (L/N)."
Cleaver gave the witcher a look, "The witcher? I thought he'd be taller, my boys in Velen, said you looked more tough."
(F/N) paused and realized his adventures in Velen had already made it to Novigrad. He was about to press the dwarf on what he knew exactly, but the King of Beggars nodded respectfully to him, "Good to see you again, Miss Merigold, sends her regards." The witcher nodded, and turned to Dijkstra, "So...Sigi...it's good to see you, or do you prefer Dijkstra?"
The master spy snorted like a pig and turned away, his nose seemed to be causing him pain, "Last we met, (F/N) and his master thrashed me silly. The boy stomped on my nose, while his master broke my ankle. That's why I always bind everyone who has a reason to harm me. I really wonder what he's got in store this time."
The witcher was about to respond, but then he heard a loud boom in the distance, he turned around. He heard gurgling, and the sound of bodies collapsing, "Someone just snuck inside the bathhouse. A lot of them."
Cleaver scoffed and laughed a bit, in disbelief of his disabilities, "The fuck's he on about? I thought he was a witcher not a fortune teller."
Suddenly a woman screamed from the main part of the bathhouse, "Assassin's! Please! No!" The whistling of a blade could be heard and then another scream. Suddenly, there were even more screams, the sound of people screaming filled the room. (F/N)'s muscles tightened, Dijkstra scowled at the door, Cleaver grumbled, "Bloody hell, I fucking knew it!"
The King of Beggars looked at Dijkstra, "Any weapons tucked away?"
The master spy walked over to the back and pulled a blanket off of a table, "Just a few," he revealed a rusted mace, an old blackjack, a sword with a chip in it, and an axe. The witcher picked up the axe, "Well I guess it's better than nothing."
Cleaver picked up the mace, Dikstra took the blackjack, while the King took the sword. As the men went to deal with the assassins outside, the dwarf laughed and sneered, "First ever barney with my prick hangin' out. Ha!"
The men were dressed like jesters, exactly like the kind he had ran into when he helped Vespula. One of them smiled and held out his blade, "Whoreson Junior sends his regards." The assassins charged the men.
(F/N) stood perfectly still, the man who was charging with him had no idea how to use a sword, he was running at him with it, like he was holding a lance. The witcher threw the axe as hard as he could, with inhuman speed and accuracy. The man let out a gasp as the weapon buried itself in his forehead. The witcher grabbed the man's sword and used the Aard sign to send him flying into a man who was trying to sneak up behind Cleaver.
(F/N) ran up to another assassin who was attacking Dijkstra, he got right behind him and slid the sharp blade right across his throat. The man's blood sprayed everywhere as he fell to the floor with a gurgle, he writhed a bit before he went still. (F/N) ignored the fact he was covered in blood and continued through the carnage that took place in the bathhouse. He was a flurry of motion. He ran a man through his stomach. He pirouetted and cut another man's head off. He went a bit crazy, the smell of blood only served to agitate him. But once there was no one left, he slowly came back down from his high. His heart was beating faster than usual, the smell of blood made it's way to his nose.
The witcher felt his mouth water, it took him a couple moments before he realized he shouldn't be smelling it. As he came back to reality, Cleaver threw his mace to the ground. Now that he wasn't thinking about dying, he was angry, his face got very red, very quickly.
Dijkstra clenched and un-clenched his fists, but his voice was eerily calm, "Terribly sorry for that incident. My security failed. I'll get to the bottom of who, why, and how."
Cleaver growled, his fists were shaking, "They were Whoreson's scum. That't the bottom of who and how right there."
The King spoke up as he set his sword down, "Don't start that again. Especially not in front of our guest."
The dwarf gave the witcher a look, his face turned redder, which (F/N) believed to be impossible, "Who pranced right in, before they attacked. Coincidence? I think not."
Dijkstra glowered at the shorter man, "Let's give him chance to explain. (F/N)...do so."
The witcher folded his arms, "It couldn't have been me, I'm looking for Whoreson Junior. I came here to ask you if you know where I can find him."
The King of Beggars smiled, "Interesting. What for?"
"That's personal."
The former Redanian spy laughed, "(F/N), here takes his privacy seriously. Spyin' on him, havin' him and his master followed, was a bloody nightmare."
The King's smile turned into a smirk, "Still, he was a lot more trusting when he was looking for Merigold. Looked like he was in love."
Dijkstra laughed, "Merigold? It isn't Merigold, he's in love with..."
Cleaver's anger finally exploded, "Gentleman, you out of your fucking minds? A chat session? Whoreson's out to get us, and he'll succeed, eventually. We've got to kill him first. So by all means, you sit there, soak, fart, and watch the bubbles rise, while I send my boys to Whoreson's hhidey-holes. They'll make some noise, flush the bugger out..." He pointed at (F/N), "you! You fucking, undead nightmare, or whatever you are - wanna find Whoreson? Find me first!" The dwarf stormed out of the bathhouse, the witcher watched him, he might take him up on that offer.
The witcher turned back to Dijkstra and the King, "Is there anything either of you can give me? I have no idea where to start."
The leader of the Putrid Grove looked to the master spy, "Sigi?"
The larger man shrugged, "It's worth a shot. He's got part of his master's brain, and he can find anyone. And he's discreet - a value in itself." The King of Beggars nodded, "Leave you to it then." He patted the witcher on the back, making his hands a bit sticky with blood.
Dijkstra spoke as the other man left, "I'll, uh, look in on you tomorrow, Francis. Finish our talk."
As the two men were left alone, the witcher looked at the spy, "Let's get dressed first."
The larger man nodded, "Sure, sure - then we'll talk. In private."
While (F/N) walked back to the room he had changed in, Dijkstra walked over to another room, that looked to be his office. When the witcher was finally alone, he took a deep breath, and then looked down at his body, he took a deep breath, and then another. His chest started heaving, the smell was so powerful. (F/N) raised his arm and licked the blood off, he didn't stop. The taste was so sweet, it felt as though his worries were leaving him for just a moment. The witcher kept licking the blood, it wasn't like he had killed the men for their blood, they would be dead regardless, he just wasn't letting it go to waste.