(F/N) walked up to the beautiful trobaritz, she was writing down some poems. It was almost as though, she couldn't contain herself, she was too worried about Dandelion, "Priscilla."
The woman jumped and turned around, it was clear she was incredibly nervous, "(F/N). Good to see you. Good. Good. Did you figure out where Dandelion is?"
The witcher nodded as he leaned against the wall, he kept his calm demeanour despite the situation, "Unfortunately."
"Where!?"
"Dungeons on Temple Isle."
Priscilla's hopeful expression fell, it was replaced by a stern angry look, "That's not a nice jest."
"I wasn't jesting."
"Fuck."
"Don't worry, we can bust him out. Triss and I thought of an idea. All we gotta do is find Dudu."
The trobaritz frowned and took off her red bonnet with the egrets feather, wiping her forehead clean, "So you must find Dudu in order to find Dandelion with the aim of ultimately finding Ciri? Sounds like an awful lot of searching."
"You've no idea."
"What was this plan you had in mind?"
(F/N) sighed as he rubbed his face, he had ironed out the details on the way over, "Well, the only way we can get Dandelion out of the dungeons is if our doppler friend assumes Menge's form. He was supposed to give the order in person to have Dandelion be moved to Oxenfurt. We'll grab him on the way there."
Priscilla nodded, she was trying to keep it together but was having some difficulty, she rubbed her chin, "Brilliant, but how do you aim to find Dudu?"
The witcher tugged on his hood, "That's where you come in. You're his friend. Any idea where he might be hiding out?"
"With a doppler the question is never 'where' but 'as whom'. In the past, when facing trouble, he'd disappear, then reappear on the morrow as someone else. But this time...this time he hasn't returned."
The witcher tried to think of something, "Alright, so we lure him out. Convince him to come out of hiding. Is there anyone he trusts? Anyplace he'd leave a message?"
Priscilla thought for a moment, she twisted her red bonet, "Dandelion, Irina Renard's troupe - that's all, really. I'm not certain he was friends with anyone else. Spent dawn to dusk with the troupe, on stage or in the crowd."
(F/N) paused, a Doppler that liked to act, he had heard everything now, "So...he went to mummings? How frequently?"
"Quite regularly. I'm actually surprised he didn't come to us for help. He certainly could've counted on the foxen's help."
A plan slowly started to form in both of their minds, "If the mummers want to help..."
Priscilla beamed at the witcher, "We need only mention Dudu. Irina and company are deeply indebted to him."
(F/N) nodded, as it came to him, "That's it then, a play. We could work in a message for Dudu or something. Lure him out of hiding that way. He'll know you by site."
The trobaritz nodded, she took her red bonnet off and made a grand gesture, "No a bad idea, but I doubt a few lines would suffice. Besides, do you think Dudu really whiles his days away by listening to mummings he knows by heart?"
"Well what do you think would work?"
"We must write an entirely new play, from scratch. Something grand, something that will grab Dudu's attention. So most importantly, it must have a splendid title..." Priscilla trailed off, exaggerating how magnificent and extravagant she wished for it to be. She really was Dandelion with tits.
The witcher nodded, "Let's do this then. We can write it together."
Priscilla looked at the witcher, he wasn't exactly a master play-right, but Dandelion had written many ballad's from him, so he might be of some use, "Well...alright...any ideas for the plot?"
(F/N) nodded, "Well if we're gonna tell Dudu to come out of hiding and tell him, he can trust us..."
Priscilla took over, she sat back down at a desk and grabbed some parchment, she started scribbling furiously with a quill, "The message must be woven into the play's dramatic essence, but clear enough for Dudu to understand it. Meaning we need an appropriate dramatic structure."
"Okay."
Priscilla paused and glanced at the witcher, "What sort of expressive form do we want for our content We need a gripping, contemporary story - that'd be best." The trobaritz went on and on about things the witcher had no idea about. Once in a while she asked a question, but before he could say anything, she would answer it herself and go back to writing.
(F/N) sat on the floor next to her, he casually drew his sword and started sharpening it as Priscilla droned on and on. She might have been one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but she could really talk. The witcher casually looked up at her, "What title are we gonna use?"
The trobaritz paused for a bit, "Actually...I hadn't thought of that, this play'll be about a witcher saving a doppler, so it'll need to be on the nose."
(F/N) nodded, "I get a say in this right?"
"Of course, we're partners. I'm just in charge."
The witcher rolled his eyes, he remembered how he and Dandelion had lived off some of his ballads when they traveled together. This felt very similar, "Alright...how about...'The Witcher and The Doppler.' I like the sound of..."
"No."
"What?"
"No. To simple, there's no flair."
The witcher sighed, Priscilla was worse than Dandelion. The troubadour humored him, at least. Was this how Dandelion felt when he talked about killing monsters? Almost certainly. Although the troubadour certainly drew inspiration from his work. While he wasn't so lucky.
The trobaritz snapped her fingers, "I've got it, 'The Dopplers Salvation,' that works perfectly. If Dudu glances at it, he'll get the point. This'll be a dramatic one alright, the audience will be sobbing their eyes out."
(F/N) rolled his eyes as Priscilla kept writing, the woman glanced at him, "Alright. I'll get to work and you...pick a corner, sit quietly, or read something...or just think. Sound okay?"
The witcher nodded as he finished sharpening his blade, he got into a meditation position, "Priscilla?"
The trobaritz sighed, and glanced at him, "Yes?"
"How did you meet Dandelion?"
Priscilla kept her focus on writing the play, "At a poetry tourney in Ellander. Naturally, I'd already heard much about Master Dandelion."
"As most women do."
"Hush. You're exactly right though. At first I thought him a bloated, narcissistic buffoon."
"Which he is."
"Quiet. I changed my mind when he came to congratulate me. Never expected he could lose so graciously. Dandelion can be irritatin'...what's a word that rhymes with sword?"
"Bored."
Priscilla paused and then went back to writing, "As I was saying, he's rough around the edges. But he can also be fair and noble at times. What about you? How'd you meet your betrothed?"
(F/N) tugged at his hood, and spoke softly, "I met her when I was a kid at Kaer Mohren. She was brought in to help Ciri deal with..."
The trobaritz stopped writing and gave him a look, "I thought Ciri was your betrothed?"
"No. We haven't been that way for a while."
"Oh right, because she nearly died. That's what Dandelion told me.
"Fucking, Dandelion. That's...a reason...not the entire thing though."
"That's a bit stupid, doesn't death come with the job? How can you justify that?"
(F/N) turned his back to Priscilla, he casually pulled out his canteen and took a swig of the white gull that was inside. He was in no mood to explain his interpretations of past events. All that mattered was he didn't love her anymore, he loved Triss, not Ciri.
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(F/N) was passed out with his canteen in his hand, when Priscilla walked up to him. She spoke as if he wasn't snoring away, "Done. I could make a small masterpiece of this, if I had a bit more time, but..."
The witcher slowly opened his eyes and rubbed his face,. He rubbed his face as he spoke, "We don't have that. The longer we wait the more likely Dandelion won't last in Temple Isle. The hidden message for Dudu - what'd you weave in?"
"Hidden message?"
(F/N) raised an eyebrow, he let off a soft growl, "You were gonna work something in, telling him to come here, or to contact me or you."
The trobaritz clicked her tongue, "No, no, no. That wouldn't be in keeping with the tone of the play! Not at all!"
The witcher sighed and looked at the female Dandelion, they were nearly exactly the same, "You wrote it to contact Dudu! Fine...We can work with this. How do we do this?"
Priscilla shrugged, and handed him the script for the play, "I don't know...I was planning on him coming up to me, or just improvising. Shall we worry about that later? First, you must take the script to Madame Irina. The troupe performs in the Butcher's Yard, off the main square."
The witcher sighed, as he looked through the script, it was pretentious but pretentious was what they needed.
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As the witcher walked into the area, he realized there was no blending in. Everyone there except him was dressed in bright clothes, with a smile on their faces. It was as though he was in an entirely different city. While he was dressed in dark muddy armor. He got a couple looks, but no one stared for too long which wasn't a bad thing.
Finding Madame Irina wasn't hard, he just walked up to the oldest woman he found. Which wasn't to say that she was any less beautiful. Her brown hair had merely a few strands of grey, her face was stern yet kind, her brown eyes were watching him as he approached. Of course it helped that she was wearing a corset that showed her figure off beautifully.
He nodded his head respectfully, "Madame Irina, I presume. Might we talk?"
The thespian's eyes widened when she saw the witcher, "(F/N) (L/N)! Dandelion's told us so much about you."
She offered him her hand. The witcher bent down, he quickly pulled down his mask and kissed it, making the older woman blush, as the witcher pulled his mask up, he smiled, "Funny. Dandelion never mentioned your beauty, madam."
The woman smiled, "Is he with you?"
(F/N)'s smile fell, "Well...no, I hope to bring him back soon. I'm here to talk about Dudu."
The thespian rubbed her chin, "Hm. Let's speak in my quarters, at the back of the theater. We'll be undisturbed there."
The witcher smiled under his mask, "That will do wonderfully,"
Madame Irina led the witcher back to her quarters, although he noticed that she was wiggling her hips a bit too much for it to be natural. When they finally arrived the thespian put her hands on her hips, "How can I help? We've not seen Dandelion or Dudu recently."
(F/N) cleared his throat, "Well, Dandelion is in a bit of trouble, and we need Dudu to help get him out of the shit he's in. Dudu himself is a bit...difficult to find. So I wanted to stage a play, something that would really draw the crowds."
Irina nodded, "I see...and you hope that it will attract Dudu's attention? So it must be an entirley new play? And who will write it? You? A dashing young man such as yourself would have no trouble."
(F/N) smiled as he pulled out the script the trobaritz had given him, "Priscilla, actually. She finished writing it. It tells the story of a witcher who saves a doppler from certain death. I'm not much of a writer. But I assure you, I'm good with my hands."
The older woman took the script and held the witcher's hand for a bit too long, "I can tell. You've the mark of a man with many talents. I'll have a look at this play, but first we must think about getting the word out and organizing some protection - ushers. Would you mind taking care of these matters? I'm sure a strong man like you would have no trouble." The thespian smirked at him flirtatiously.
(F/N) smirked a bit himself, "I believe it's a gentleman's responsibility to help beautiful damsels."
Madame Irina smiled, she ran her hand along his bicep, "Must you go so soon? We've barely gotten to know each other."
The witcher smiled, as he wrapped an arm around the older woman's waist, "I suppose I can spare a bit of time."
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To say that the the witcher was confident was an understatement, even with his disfigured appearance he could still attract many women. Even as a young man he could do it, of course, his appearance was certainly an issue. The witcher liked to think that he had taught Dandelion everything he knew, but the opposite was true. After he left the theater, he asked an actor to check on Madame Irina, she might need help in an hour or two.
(F/N) walked around the docks for a bit, until he found some ruthless looking men. They were flexing their own muscles and talking about how many crates of supplies they could lift. The witcher didn't really want to spend time looking for better candidates, so he offered all five 20 crowns to usher at the play. Thankfully Menge's money guarantee cleared so it was easy to pay them.
The entertainers who would get the word out were even easier. They were a group of elves called the Puffins. As soon as he said his name, they immediately leapt out of their seats and spoke to him as if he was royalty. They had heard all about the story of the Black Bat, how he had fought a trio of trolls with his bare hands to protect the local Scoia'tael. (F/N) tried correcting them, but when they brought up how he bravely fought for Vergen and won their independence, he gave up. It was futile, he knew he was like a legend, amoung non-humans at least. Apparently, the Squirrels had been talking about the favor he had done, it had been incredibly embellished. All he had to do was say that he needed help getting the word out, he had to beg them to take any coin.
The witcher's spirits were high, when he made his way back to Irina's. As he walked into her quarters, she was brushing her hair, she looked exhausted from their last encounter. (F/N) smiled as he walked closer, "You alright?"
The older woman smiled up at him, "I'm a bit sore in my legs, but I shall be alright. You were wonderful."
The witcher smiled and folded his arms, "I manged to hire some ushers, and the play is being advertised."
The thespian smiled, "Excellent, that's one matter resolved."
"Now...about the play...how is it?"
Irina smiled and pushed on her dresser to stand up, "It's not at all badly written. In fact, I quite like it. I was willing to relax my standards to help Dudu, but we may have something interesting here. Now let's discuss casting, I've very clear ideas who to cast as the Servant, the Witcher and the Queen. But I'm not certain who would play the Prince and Princess."
(F/N) tilted his head, "Who's the Witcher? I want to talk to the man to make sure he get's it right."
"An amateur - it'll be my first time working with him. But I'm confident he'll pull it off. If he's as good an actor as he is in bed he'll do perfectly."
The witcher frowned, "Wait...you don't mean..."
"You? Of course I do."
"I'm not exactly an actor. You see my mask? I can't exactly portray my hidden most inner thoughts."
"But that's perfect. You're the Witcher, not the Princess. Besides you must appear on stage, Dudu must recognize you. It's the crux of this entire endeavor."
(F/N) sighed, he hoped no one would recognize him, he had a reputation to uphold, "Damn it. Fine, I'll do it."
"Excellent. You'll be fine dear. Just strut on stage, sword in hand, glare, and speak your lines. You'll manage."
The witcher shrugged, "I suppose. Who're you planning on having play the princess?"
Irina shrugged, "Priscilla would be the obvious choice - she's young and has a certain way about her. Yet...I do have more stage experience."
"Don't forget beauty."
The woman smiled and ran a hand through her hair, "Although...I doubt I'm as beautiful as a princess."
"No, you're more beautiful."
The woman giggled playfully as she sensually bit her lip.
(F/N) smiled, as he made his decision, "You should be the princess. You have it all, truly."
"I'm honored. I shall give it my all, there's a dress I was planning to wear, it's very low cut."
The witcher smiled, thoroughly enjoying their conversation, "I can't wait. All that leaves is the prince."
The thespian nodded, "I'm finding it hard to decide between two candidates. Abelard Rizza would be the safer bet. He's been part of our trope for ages, had flawless technique but he doesn't exactly captivate crowds."
"Who's the other option?"
"Maxim Boliere. Outstanding actor and audiences love him, but sadly I can never be sure he'll show up sober. Or that he'll show up at all."
"Abelard. No question. I really don't want this to be canceled because a performer got too drunk to act."
"Rightly so. This project is risky enough without our casting Maxim."
The witcher nodded, he was finally ready to get this over with, "Alright, now that we've got the cast figured out. We can start getting ready."
Irina put a hand on the witcher's chest, "It seems so. Prepared to plunge headlong into your career as a mummur?"
(F/N) grabbed the script from off the table and looked at his lines, no human would ever say them in their life in a natural conversation. After awhile he sighed, this was going to be hard, "Well...I know my lines now. So we can start whenever your trope is ready. Even now."
The older woman smiled and grabbed his hand, "Well we've no time to lose. Come to the stage."
Before she could lead him off, she frowned and looked behind him. The witcher turned and saw his favorite dwarf, his heart sank, "Zoltan? What're you doing here? You should head back to the Rosemary and Thyme just in case Dandelion comes back."
The dwarf laughed, "Not a chance laddy. Prisscilla told me all about Dandelion and that you lot're puttin' on a play, with you playin' the lead. Geralt won't believe his ears."
The witcher folded his arms, and whispered in embarrassment, "I'm not the lead."
Zoltan kept laughing, he could hardly contain himself, "So I thought to meself, I'd sooner shave my beard than miss this! Tell me, witcher - you gonna wear a tutu and a codpiece?"
Irina glared at the dwarf for distracting him from his performance, "Come (F/N), you must focus your mind before you go on stage."
The dwarf smirked as (F/N) walked off, he would be sure to get front row seats.
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The witcher peaked out behind the curtain, the stands were packed. Dudu could be any of the people there, even the large dog that was napping in the front looked suspicious. The witcher sighed, hopefully Dudu was here, he didn't want to look like a jackass for nothing. (F/N) looked through the curtain as the play began, looking for anyone that was nervous. He saw a little boy dancing up and down, but his mother quickly took him to go to the bathroom. A man casually smoking his pipe. An elderly woman smiling at the stage.
As the play started the witcher had to walk on stage, he could feel all the eyes on him. He wasn't focusing on his delivery at all. He just read back the lines in a monotone voice, and the audience ate it up. They were hungry for an emotionless, unfeeling witcher evidently. (F/N) kept taking glances at the audience, only a couple were looking at him like they recognized him. The witcher went back to examining the crowd whenever he was off the stage. He hardly paid attention to the play. The only other thing he noticed was Madame Irina's low cut dress, she kept gesturing to her generous breasts to get his attention. Which she did, quite frequently.
(F/N) sighed after the play was halfway through, Dudu hadn't made himself known, he must have needed more encouragement. Apparently, a play where a queen had hired a reluctant witcher to kill her daughters soon to be husband wasn't direct enough.
When the last scene started, the entire cast was on stage. The prince had just revealed himself to be a doppler. (F/N) made sure to stress that being a shapeshifter didn't make him a monster. The lines were so intricate he fumbled a bit here and there, but he tried to keep the message simple. He knew Dudu was in the crowd, he just knew. He could feel it. When the Queen finally decided to let her daughter marry the prince. (F/N) cleared his throat and looked at the crowd, when he spoke, his voice carried more emotion than before, "Tis our tale's end, good folk, and it's moral is this. No monster is he who's shape can shift." (F/N) saw Zoltan laughing in the front row. He bit his lip and shook his head profusely, this was horrible.
That's when he heard it, someone in the crowd muttered softly, not as though they had met him, but like they had heard of him, "(F/N)?"
The witcher's eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. There was a temple guard standing in the distance, he looked incredibly nervous. (F/N) smiled, instantly realizing a Temple Guard would never step foot in a play. The witcher stared at Dudu and nodded.
The Queen stood next to him and spoke, "The witcher is just - a true doppler's friend."
(F/N) looked at Dudu and pointed him out, he spoke in his regular tone of voice, "So you and I should be friends. Come up here."
The crowd all turned, and stared at Dudu. The doppler blushed and only looked even more nervous, he stared at his boots. But the crowd started cheering him on, and encouraging him to go up on stage. Dudu slowly walked to the stage, he looked even more nervous but happy. (F/N) helped the mimic up onto the stage, he winked at the doppler and helped him up as the crowd started cheering, "It's good to meet you, Dudu." The doppler smiled and nodded, as (F/N) gestured to the back of the stage.
The witcher finished up his lines, glad that his time in Novigrad was coming to an end. Once he finished he bowed slightly, he was expecting a round of applause, but instead he heard a group of men shout, "Dopplers to the stake! Burn 'em all!"
The crowd turned to the group and started booing them as another man shouted, "He's right! Oy, mummers! Don't know the Eternal Fire's commandments?"
"Blasphemers! Oughta teach them respect for the faith!"
(F/N) considered walking off stage and letting the ushers deal with the unruly men, but ever since he had step foot in Novigrad. He had been accused, bullied, humiliated, and insulted, he had it with the Eternal Fire and all it represented, he shouted, "Why don't you take your Eternal Fire and ram it up your ass?"
The crowd started emptying out although many wished to stay, they wished to see the bloodbath that was about to take place. The ushers cracked their knuckles happy to get into a fight. (F/N) jumped off the stage and tackled one of the men, it all went insane from there. No one could keep track of what was happening. The witcher quickly stood up and smashed a chair against a man. Someone punched him in the eye. One of the ushers threw a brick. One of the Eternal Fire worshipers picked up a board of wood. Zoltan choked out one of them. The situation only devolved when the Temple guards showed up. It was an all out brawl soon after.
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(F/N) laughed as he walked backstage. Dudu was waiting for him in his halfling form. The witcher rubbed his eye, it was still stinging. The doppler stood up and smiled at the witcher, "You must be the witcher I've heard so much about. How'd you recognize me?"
(F/N) smirked and tapped his ear, "I heard you whisper my name and I made an assumption. How're you holding up since Whoreson got a hold of you?"
Dudu nodded, and seemed a bit glum, "I'm alright...so...you know everything? Have you seen Ciri?"
The witcher sighed at the mention of the woman, "No, she's still missing."
The mimic sighed, he was about to say something, but the door to the room flew open and Zoltan walked in roaring with laughter, "(F/N)! Masterful! You did great! Haven't laughed that hard in ages! Lads won't believe it when I tell 'em!"
(F/N) looked at the doppler, trying to swallow his humiliation, "Explain one thing to me: how'd you and Dandelion manage to piss off Reuven, Whoreson, and the Temple Guard all at the same time? That's actually really hard to do."
Dudu started pacing back and forth, "It's not as if we planned it."
Zoltan chuckled a bit, the doppler gave him a foul look, his shape started changing, when he looked back at the witcher he looked exactly like the dwarf. "If Ciri had found Zoltan instead of Dandelion, half the town would have burned down." He scratched his beard and looked at the dwarf.
The real Zoltan folded his arms, "That's terrible."
The doppler laughed as he slowly turned back to his preferred form. The witcher put his hands up, "What happened after you escaped from Whoreson? Did Ciri mention where she was going?"
Dudu shook his head, and turned away, "No. I ran after her, wanting to keep up, but...I'd 'ave been a hindrance. She called out to me, entreated me to shape shift and disappear." The doppler slowly started growing taller, "I tried to find them - Ciri and Dandelion. It was as if they'd turned to vapor. Fearing for my life, I shifted each day, becoming someone else." Dudu's voice became more deeper and sounded parched. (F/N)'s eyebrows raised when he saw an identical copy of himself, "Even considered turning into Ciri, to trick her pursuers."
Zoltan pointed at Dudu and (F/N), his laughter boomed through the room. The witcher sighed, "Dudu...you turned into me."
The mimic looked down at his black armor, "Oh, I do apologize...you've slept with a dragon?"
(F/N) gritted his teeth, "Dudu!"
Zoltan looked at the witcher, his laughter grew, as he assumed the worst, "How did that even work?"
The witcher growled, the doppler had access to all his memories, "Change back now!"
The Doppler only seemed to realize more about him, "Wait...how can you not know if you're in love with Ciri or Triss? That seems like a fairly easy choice."
Zoltan looked at him, his laughter was gone, his expression hardened, "Wait? You're still in love with the las?"
"No. I'm not. I..."
The doppler spoke up, (F/N) had never hated to see his own face as much as he did in that moment, "Yes you are, last night you dreamt of Ciri and you...you're drinking blood."
The room went quiet, the dwarf looked at the witcher, "You're drinking blood? I thought you weren't supposed to do that, lad."
(F/N) balled his fists and looked at the doppler, "Dudu. Change. Shape. Now"
The mimic put his hands up, he looked afraid of him, "Terribly sorry, the memories just flood my mind." The doppler changed back to his halfling form.
Zoltan gave the monster hunter a look, "(F/N)...how long have you..."
"It's none of your business," the witcher snapped, his anger flared.
He folded his arms, effectively putting an end to the conversation. Zoltan sighed and shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. The dwarf scratched his beard and looked at Dudu, "So you saw Ciri?"
The mimic nodded, and scratched behind his ear awkwardly. Zoltan looked at (F/N), then at the doppler, "It's been a while since I've seen her. When was the last time you saw her?"
"A couple months ago."
The dwarf nodded, as he thought of an idea, "Must be a full grown lass by now. Dudu, do us a wee favor - show us Ciri for a moment."
The doppler bit his lip, he looked at the witcher, "(F/N)?"
"Do it...change into her," although he hated to admit it, he missed Ciri, every moment, of everyday.
The doppler nodded and slowly grew in height. The witcher had no idea what to expect when he saw Ciri, no the exact copy of her, this wasn't the real Ciri. He couldn't confuse the two things. He watched as Dudu's hair grew longer and turned white. His body became thinner and thinner. When Dudu finished transforming, the witcher knew instantly, he was still in love with her. He didn't even need to think, he was certain. The witcher looked the doppler in her green eyes, he felt his heart ache. There were bags under them, she looked absolutely exhausted, her clothes were torn and filthy, her ashen-hair was a mess. (F/N) reached for her cheek, wanting to touch her, as if to prove she was real, but she backed away, "I'm afraid looking will have to do."
(F/N) slowly put his hand down, hearing Ciri's voice just made him miss the real version of her. His heart beat in his chest, as his fist tightened, "You can change back Dudu...that was a bad idea," his voice barely above a whisper.
Zoltan frowned, "Not angry with me, are ye, (F/N)?"
"No."
"I feel relieved."
Once Dudu turned back to his normal form, he smiled at the witcher, "She still loves you to. I didn't need to turn into her to tell you that."
The witcher didn't meet his gaze, he didn't know what he would say to Ciri when he found her. He couldn't deny he felt the way he did, but he also couldn't deny destiny.
"Let's move on."
The mimic nodded, "I understand. Were you able to find Dandelion?"
(F/N) nodded, as he tried not to think about what happened, "Witch Hunters nabbed him. But there's good news, too. We can free Dandelion. But we need your help."
Dudu frowned, but he seemed curious, "What could I do?"
"Take on Caleb Menge's form. He's the leader of the Witch Hunters. Once you take on his appearance. And order him to be moved to Oxenfurt."
Zoltan laughed and rubbed his hands together, "We'll lay an ambush in the ravine en route. Spring Dandelion from the convoy when it rolls by."
Dudu turned pale, "Wait...Not so fast. How am I to be Menge? And I've no notion where Dandelion's being held."
(F/N) shook his head, "We've taken care of that. Menge's dead, and I assume you've seen him so you should be able to morph into him. And Dandelion's in the Dungeon's on Temple Isle. You need to find out where exactly."
The doppler started stammering, "But, but, what if they grow suspicious? Start asking questions?"
Zoltan scratched his beard, "I bet my best axe no one'll pester the commander of the Temple Guard. Besides, you're a doppler and an actor - and an actor and a doppler. Got double the spark to improvise your way outta any situation. Things get spicy you'll just nip around the corner and transform into a wench, a jackdaw, or even (F/N)."
"Preferably not the last bit."
The doppler folded his arms, "Of course. It's that simple. Thanks."
The witcher sighed, "Listen, you'll be fine. No one knows Menge's missing so you can make up whatever story you want."
The dwarf smiled, he knew a fight was coming, "Me lads and me'll lie in ambush in the ravine. (F/N)'ll join us and we'll await word from ye."
Dudu found another flaw in the plan, "But how am I to contact you as Menge? Send word that the convoys left?"
"That's up to you. Geralt told me out of every monster he's ever fought you were the only one he respected."
The mimic frowned, his curiosity only grew, "He really said that? Well...I guess I can do it."
Zoltan laughed as he headed for the door, "So? We all clear? Dudu, get your arse to Temple Isle. I'm off to assemble my crew, and we'll be waitin' for ye, (F/N)."
The witcher nodded at the dwarf, "See you in the ravine."
As the witcher went to leave, the doppler grabbed his arm, "Whoa! Wait! Hold on! What happens after? I-I hope you don't expect me to continue as Menge, live like Chapelle, burning the occasional heretic to keep up appearances?"
"No. You can live as Dudu. You can meet us back at the Rosemary and Thyme. We'll get shitfaced with Dandelion." The Doppler nervously starter pacing as he realized the amount of responsibility that had been dumped on him.
As the witcher left backstage he was greeted by Madame Irina, "You were marvelous. Almost no mistakes. If life as a witcher doesn't work out, you could certainly try life as a mummer. "
The witcher laughed slightly, "I appreciate it. Thank you, truly, for giving me the opportunity."
The woman smiled as she ran a hand over her breasts, "You know...I don't wear this dress for just anyone."
The witcher smiled, "I'm sure. But I must decline," he wished he didn't have to run.
The thespian frowned but nodded, "Very well. May your life be fortunate." As she walked past him, she ran a hand over his ass. The witcher smiled as he kept walking, he would have loved a night in the sheets, but he had to save his friend, again. He just needed to grab something from the Rosemary and Thyme. The last and most important piece of Dandelion's rescue.