Chapter 59: Episode 56

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 5504

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read exactly 24 Episodes in advanced, yes I counted.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

A/N: Thus the prelude for the War of Magnums has begun!

A/N: Is it just me, or a lot of fics have been put on hold in recent days? I followed like thousands of fanfics and very few of them have been updated, which is especially the case for Fanfiction . net for some reasons.

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Fire and Lightning raged on the small Island.

Her Children, all were being incinerated in droves, cut, slashed apart and bisected with not a care in the World thanks to her Youngest and his accomplice.

Speaking of her Youngest, the boy was throwing a tantrum, and had he not been bombarding her Islands with Spells and Witcher’s Bombs for a week straight with his little friend, she might have found the act endearing, having never had a Child that was quite as rebellious as he was.

“Leonis, I tire of thy temper tantrum. Will thee truly refuse to show thyself?” The only response she got was a Curse– The Edelfelt’s famous offensive Spell, [Finn Shot]. It was much stronger than what she had witnessed from the old Edelfelt Head, whom even she was once afraid of, but Gabriel had grown during her time spent in this World, she was that inexperienced Heiress no longer…

Coating her hands in Demonic Mana, the Umbral Witch slapped away the Spell, diverting its trajectory just so slightly and allowing the Curve to veer off, hitting the ground with a loud boom. “Give in, cease this... This outburst at once, Traveler. We can be together, as one! Let us be a family.”

At last, her Youngest chose to respond verbally instead of with violence, Swords and Spells. “Shut up, bitch! I ain’t interested in joining your fucked-up family. Pitch that shit to someone else! And return my rapier!”

“I’ve had it with thee!” The Umbral Witch growled as two barrels telekinetically came… Well, barreling at her. She stomped, causing portals to flash open and letting the Greater of her Children storm out. The Chimera– Reid’s true body was always hidden inside a separate Dimension keyed to her, and he rarely made appearance due to how unruly he could be, but the situation at hands demanded his entrance. “Come, help your mother.”

Gabriel whispered, coaxing the Greater Demon from its resting place and directing its wrath at the ashen-haired pair, only to find them both… Missing, like their last few visits.

Despite her love for each and every single one of her Children was true, her Youngest– The Traveler was truly wearing her patience thinner and thinner by the day. Gabriel did not grind her teeth, for that was an action unbefitting of a Heiress, no. She just clenched her teeth, her expression changed to an emotionless façade most Mages would be familiar with as coldness seeped from her pores.

“Leonis Magnum!” The Umbral Witch growled out his name, not quite hateful, but certainly irritated.

With a motion of her hands, the groaning Demons dissipated into waves upon waves of Darkness, their burnt and broken bodies as though being torn apart by invisible forces. She would create something more, something better for their next visit. She would be ready, and her Youngest would be punished for his disobedience.

Another wave, and the storm of pure Darkness merged, sending magical echoes flying in all sides. “Disobedient Children get punished, thee should know, Traveler.”

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

Ciri and I fell on the bed as we blinked to our place, laughing our asses off all the while. “Did- Ha-ha- Did you see her fucking face when she couldn’t find us, Princess? The bitch looked like she was constipated!”

The Witcheress grinned, giggling as she faced the ceiling. “It’s surprisingly fun–”

The girl paused, pinching her chin, before adding. “The lack of sleep aside. I can see why you like to… Play with your enemies so much. It’s gratifying to be the Hunter rather than the Hunted for once.”

I hopped to my feet, kneeling on the velvet fabric and promptly ignoring the fact that Triss’ spare mattress, which was hundreds of years behind my own, was softer and more springy than the Spartan shit Kotomine gave me. Just another thing to hold that shitty priest accountable for. Scoffing internally at the thoughts, I bowed sarcastically to Ciri. “I’m glad my troubles can be of service to you, Milady.”

“Stop it, you know how much I hate being referred to as a Lady.” She grumbled, yet the smile on her face clearly said otherwise. I supposed it’s ‘cause she knew while I joked around a lot, I never meant any actual disrespect, especially when it came to my badass fellow of Elder Blood. It’s just the way my brain was wired, I couldn’t hold a conversation without banter, I’d die. “So, I heard our Sleeping Beauty is up and about?”

“Avallac’h? Yup, he has just regained consciousness yesterday. I’ll go out to train with him later actually.”

I raised my eyebrows at that, homeboy worked fast. “And later is when?”

Ciri mused for a second as a thoughtful look overcame her expression, then she looked out of the windows, and panic set in. “Later is now. Crap, I totally forgot about our session! I must leave, see you Leonis.”

The Witcheress waved me goodbye and blinked away. Truth was, I did not like her interacting with Avallac’h, not one bit. The bastard was only using Ciri to benefit himself, he did not and could not care less about her. But, at the same time, the Elven Sage was a much better mentor to her than I could ever be.

He had spent his entire life practicing Magic and researching Lara Dorren’s gene, while I was still two, maybe three months short of a full year?

Once our adorable Witcheress had drained him of all his usefulness, I’d unalive the Elf myself.

Sage or not, I doubted he was immune to Infernal Iris severing his spine, or having his head blasted open by [Finn Cannon] like a dropped watermelon.

Speaking of watermelons, I was kind of thirsty. I wondered if Dandelion’s Tavern was open? It’s the only place in the entirety of Novigrad that sold good non-alcoholic drinks. Sadly, last I heard, there were a few... accidents, AKA brawls and the refurbishing was a work-in-progress even now. Hell, the fuckers didn’t even plan to compensate Dandelion and his girl for the damages, it’s only when my and Geralt’s names were mentioned that they, reluctantly mind you, coughed up the coins.

“Haaaaa… Let’s check it out myself then.” Rather than blinking to the bard’s Tavern like usual, I instead opted to walk there. Novigrad was back in business, the buildings that were structurally unsound were knocked down, those that could be salvaged fixed and reinforced. There were a couple of hiccups along the way, but overall I’d say the Free City of Novigrad was livable again.

Gone were the signs and indications of the brief skirmish having taken place mere weeks ago.

Gone were the corpses of both Elves and Men.

It was quite a sight, I must admit.

Unfortunately, the loss of Radovid as a threat and a deterrence also meant there was none to stand in Emhyr and Nilfgaard’s from taking charge of the very, very unprotected City, thus the appearance of the White Flame’s soldiers patrolling/stalking the streets like a pack of wild hyenas, looking for their Princess.

Worst yet, since their arrival and subsequent encampment just a mere day before my short coma, they had been fighting the Criminal Syndicates for control over the City to a varying degrees of success. I said that because unlike an open battlefield where they would hold both the tactical and numerical advantages, Novigrad was a relatively closed-off City with narrow streets in which their advantages would be a nuisance.

Even with that evening the odds, the Nilfgaardian forces were proving themselves too much for a bunch of backstreet gangs to handle…

I stared at the corpses littering the alleys unattended, left to rot after having their possessions confiscated by Nilfgaardian Soldiers. Pulling my hooded cloak up to hide the eye-catching white of my hair, I slowly trudged through the crowds and made my way to Dandelion’s Tavern.

Even as I ducked and weaved, I could feel eyes on me. It felt specific, personal. Nothing like what an unassuming, uncaring pair of eyes would cause. It certainly wasn’t just ‘a pair of eyes’ either, it was multiple. Left, right and up, I felt them staring resentfully at me from all fronts, their gazes accusing and angry. I pretended to be unaware, suddenly finding the cobblestones pavement beneath my feet extremely interesting as the corners of my lips edged up.

“You wanna play hide-‘n-seek? Fine, I was bored anyway.” I quickly slipped into an abandoned alley, having used my Supernatural hearing to determine that it was indeed empty and open for… Combat. I snorted, turning to the vacant entrance, faux exasperation entering my voice as I taunted. “What’s with people stalking me? First the Martial Artists, then you guys. Is it a fetish?”

All I got in term of response was deafening silence. It dawned on me, if this was a cartoon, I’d probably be hearing crickets right about now. “Seriously, come out, you bunch ain’t fooling anyone.”

As predicted, a group of dozens streamed into the alley threateningly, or… Well, as threatening as a group of muggles could be. Very, very dirty muggles with ashes, soot and darkened brown smudges on their faces. “Oh-goodie, finally have the balls to show yourself? You have better had a good explanation for this… Ambush, or I’ll be knees-deep in your blood.”

The first guy to show himself gritted his teeth as he charged at me. Luckily, for him that was, his friends managed to hold him back. Still, he snarled, unafraid of the consequences. Not exactly smart of him, especially since tales of my escapades had been circling around thanks to Dandelion and his big mouth, but certainly brave, which I could respect.

“Yee! Yee fookin’ bastardly Mage! Novigrad was wee-fine ‘till you showed up! We were happy, safe! Then yee’ came, bringing naught but deaths and destruction in yee’ wake!”

I titled my head. “I- I think you’re mistaking me for the Red Riders… You know, the smug, edgy-looking, fully armored, tall Elven boys who raided and enslaved settlements on a weekly basis?”

Crossing my arms and eyeballing their worsening complexions, I huffed in amusement amidst their angry glares. “Not sure how you mixed that up. As you can see–” I threw my arms up in mock surrender. “I literally have nothing in common with them. I don’t even wear armors, just suits and I’m clearly superior in appearance.”

“Don’t yee’ fookin’ deny it! The rest of this shitty City might be bitches willing to kneel at yee’ feet, but we ain’t afraid! We know it’s yee’ who brought down their wraths, I was there, I saw it with my own eyes, how yee’ used Black Magic to summon them… Yee’ must answer for yee’ crimes!” An older, uglier gentleman shouted, his sclera red and pulsing with rage as he pointed a finger at my face. “It’s your fault!”

One more joined in. “Pay for your crimes, Monster!”

And another, “My wife, my daughters… They’re slaughtered because of you!”

“Go to Hell, Demon.”

“The Eternal Flame was right, you Mages all need to be burnt alive, and we’re gonna start with you!”

“Make him pay, make that whoreson pay!”

I looked at each and everyone of them, and realized they weren’t simply motivated by unbridled anger, not completely at least, they were motivated by losses. They had all lost something– Someone that night, and they were seeking retribution, a way to ease the sadness and rage consuming their hearts.

And yet!

Yet… I couldn’t muster up any sympathy.

It didn’t matter to me who they lost, it didn’t matter to me that some of them had lost their houses, their savings and their livelihoods.

I was a Magus, more than that, I was a Gamer. They were naught but faceless, nameless NPC to me. They meant nothing, and as long as I kept winning, why should I bother myself with their problems? Beside, it wasn’t my fault the Red Riders were a bunch of thieves, rapists, raiders and murderers. It also wasn’t my fault Radovid and his army of religious nutjobs were occupying the quote-unquote Free City.

I did not see them stand up for us Magicals then.

Hell, some of these cunts might have been laughing at our expenses.

Not one of them were good people, so why should I care?

“So? You can cheer and celebrate while people were being burnt on pyres, while children were orphaned, wives widowed and fathers and sons butchered, but the moment it happens to you, you can’t fucking take it?” I spat disdainfully, eyes holding only contempt for the group. “Though, I’ll admit, I couldn’t care less about the lives lost to your shitty religion, but to come to me and demand Justice? I must applaud you all for the sheer audacity you all seem to possess.”

I clapped amidst their stunned silence, just as an aged voice cut in. “Not all of us were like that! Me and me-wife, we were working to help the Mages, risking our skins and lives for them! For you! And what did we get in return? What did me-wife did to deserve that?!”

He could barely speak before having a coughing fit.

I ignored the dull ache in my heart, that flash of guilt that should, should rightfully be present for every human, silencing it with a hush.

Answering with a smile that was not quite a smile, I rolled my eyes. “Then take it up to the Red Riders, I didn’t fucking kill your wife now, did I? And I certainly didn’t know a Spell would summon them–”

That’s a big white-lie, I totally knew what I was doing, but it’s not like they would know that, would they? “– They came on their own. I didn’t wave a flag at them, or tell those armored cowards there were fresh meats in Novigrad.”

“You- You-!” He clutched his chest.

“ENOUGH!” The largest of the group roared, his tone commanding and cold as he set sight on me. “Whether you brought them here accidentally or purposefully, I don’t care. You must pay for every life lost that night, every loss that you indirectly incurred, including my brother’s!”

He waved around a spiked mace, slamming it on the ground with enough force to send dust and stones flying.

I clutched my mouth, appearing as though horrified, and the large man smirked.

Sadly, I couldn’t keep up the pretense and ended up bursting into laughter, a disdainful smirk, one fitting for a villain, crept to my lips. “You- You are aware I singlehandedly butchered at least a hundred people, Radovid’s Soldiers and Red Riders alike, right? Put that down before I give you a one-way ticket into the sun, no bloods need to be spilt today.”

‘Oh, but it does.’ The voice in my head nearly made me jump. Thankfully, I was able to keep my cool. ‘Angra? What the fuck are you doing in my head?’

He laughed. ‘Just… Piggybacking off of it. What do you think, moron? I’m stuck in your pussy-ass brain, been resting after that wonderful meal. I see you’re in quite a bit of a pickle, just fucking end these animals already.’

‘Are you the reason why–‘ I absentmindedly dodged the mace swing from Big-‘n-Ugly. ‘– I’m so apathetic towards their plights?’

The Daemon King’s Fragment chuckled. ‘A bit perhaps, but it’s mostly just you.’

“But–” I blurted out as I blocked the mace, my grip so tight the weapon’s head was crushed to the size of a soda-pop. ‘Come now, don’t be like them, don’t blame all your Evils on me. This is you, the deepest recess of your mind, your truest self. You don’t care, you never did unless someone has some sort of values to you. Don’t deny it.’

‘I- I–’ I tried to object, yet nothing came out as I lazily avoided another attack. The rest of the group had snapped out of their surprise now, slowly enclosing onto me. I clenched my teeth, was I truly like this? So willing to throw away lives for any and every perceived slights. Sure, Novigrad was a shithole for Mages and Magicals, but should I really get to comment on it? This wasn’t my World, it’s not even my Universe…

I turned to Big-‘n-Ugly, who had let go of his mace and was in the process of throwing a punch at my head and snapped.

[Reinforcement] strengthened my fist.

You are reading story Fate: Dead Man’s Lament at novel35.com

[Petal Burst] accelerated my swing.

My punch landed… Right next to his face, a punch so powerful it sent bursts of winds scattering all over the alley, knocking three of the skinny guys standing behind the Big Guy. They huffed, hugging their stomachs as I frowned, flexing my hand. “… I already said no more bloods need to be spilt, leave. I won’t hurt you.”

The Big Guy stood there still, seemingly frozen in that state as yellow streams started soaking his crotch.

I stepped away to avoid the splatters.

‘Fucking really?’ Angra Mainyu scoffed. ‘You gonna backpedal on this shit? You already indirectly murdered hundreds! I thought being true to yourself is your whole thing?’

“Shut your hole Angra… Nobody asked for your opinions.” I scowled, pushing through the encirclement without a single care. Nothing they did could actually hurt me anyway, and after that little demonstration, they seemed to realize too. But, just as I was about to leave, a hidden force urged me to turn to the old man, grabbing his hands. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your wife.”

[Gradation Air] activated and a pouch full of coins discreetly appeared in his palms, seeing as if I gave him openly, there’s a real chance he might be robbed by the group later on. His lips trembled as the tension in him seemed to bleed out. He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as he grabbed my shirt, dirtying it in the process. “Why? Why, WHY…? Why did you feel the need to ruin our lives?!”

He repeated over and over again, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know.” I said, then whispered breathlessly. “It just never occurred to me that there people who aren’t complete pricks in this City…”

I swiftly made my way to the main street.

My thirst was gone. “Or maybe I’m really just that much of a monster.”

‘You definitely are, dumb-dumb! Why do you think I– We picked you to be our replacement in the first place?’

Having no way to object, I could only continue dejectedly. I wasn’t sure if it was the sullen expression on my face, or the constantly shifting, bipolar aura I had, but everyone parted way for me like I was the plague, which was perfectly fine to me.

Soon, I entered a nearby Tavern, one that did not belong to Dandelion. I needed a drink, and while I wasn’t a fan of alcohols most days, I was in need of a way to clear my head and relax my nerves. Seeing as I hadn’t found any merchant in stock of my favorite, cancer-causing pastime snacks– Tobaccos, as unbelievable as it sounded, alcohols would have to suffice for now.

“What do ya’ want?”

“Your strongest bottles, send it all my way.” I pretended to grab a pouch from the belt under my cloak, projecting more coins and slapped it on the table. ‘Drinking? How scandalous! You’re not of age, young Leonis! What will your parents think?! Wait, wait, that’s right. You don’t have one.’

“Of-fucking-course.” I sighed, downing the drinks like an addict in a desperate attempt to silence both the gaping hole in my conscience and the literal Daemon having settled in my head.

It wasn’t nearly as effective as I had hoped… But, it did the job.

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

“Zirael, how are you?”

The Elven Sage asked, and Ciri couldn’t help allowing a smile to sprout on her lips. How was she doing exactly? “I’m quite fine, thanks for asking.”

Avallac’h didn’t even look up from his glowing experiment, an indifferent expression plastered on his sharp Elven features. “I heard you found another Child of the Elder Blood while I was… Occupied? A male who decimated Eredin’s forces at that.”

Dropping his scalpels, the Sage turned to her, eyes suspicious and imploring. “How did that happen?”

An odd feeling seized her heart. Ciri wanted to answer truthfully, to explain that Leonis had somehow figured out a method to replicate the Legendary Blood using the Witcher Trials, but… Something inside her seemed to scream and screech at the nigh manic, obsessed gleam in Avallac’h’s dark gaze. Blurting out the truth would have been so, so easy. Avallac’h was her friend and a powerful Sage in his own rights, he could be trusted.

Yet! Yet something, something deep in her heart felt uncomfortable seeing him. Yes, Leonis had not explicitly told her to keep the procedures a secret, but that kind of reasoning was flimsy at best and utterly worthless at worst.

Unfortunately, the Witcheress had a feeling the Sage would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

It's his secret to tell, and she couldn’t bear to betray his faith in her after everything he had done. It might seem inconsequential for the Sorcerer, but by slaying the late King of the Wild Hunt, he had basically saved her from a lifetime of servitude and sexual slavery. Could she– Nay, should she really be babbling his secrets to others without his permission?

The answer was clear to her, thus she began. “He slammed into me out of nowhere, I think that’s his first time traversing to another planet…”

Avallac’h’s eyes bored into her still as Ciri continued with her explanation, forcefully calming her rapid heartbeats. Memory of a lesson Leonis had repeatedly hammered into her head flashed to mind. ‘Mix half-truths into any lie you weave, Princess. It makes the story more believable, and harder for people to notice inconsistencies.’

“I was running from the Hunt and Monsters at the time, he took care of me and together we travelled to find Triss. I’m sure you remember her?” Avallac’h looked away, humming as Ciri crossed her arms almost defensively. “Yes, I remember. I didn’t get to meet her after waking up, but please, do send her my thanks for the assistance.”

“I will.” Ciri bobbed her head, before awkwardly turning her gaze to the fleshy object on the table. She wasn’t interested in what it was, but it’s better than having to stare into the man’s eyes as she lied. “So, you said we’re here to train?”

“Yes, though I had hoped you’d bring this… Fascinating friend of yours. With his help, I believe defeating White Frost will no longer be a distant dream.”

It was a somber moment for the Witcheress. It reminded her that even without Eredin and his Red Riders, she still had problems beyond them, problems that she couldn’t see the ends of. Like her sperm-donor hunting her, or the imminent frosty Apocalypse that threatened Worlds. It would be easy if she had Leonis by her side, she thought. Ciri had never seen him lose, and if he did, he would always bounce right back.

Perhaps he's the real Prophesized Savior, and she merely existed as a medium to transfer the Elder Blood to him.

It would make so much sense.

It would also explain why everyone thought the one to stop the White Frost would be birthed by her. In a sense, Ciri had helped Leonis with his rebirth, granting him Abilities beyond what he was. Sadly, the Sorcerer clearly didn’t see things that way. He obviously knew about the White Frost, yet he too was pushing her to embrace her Destiny, albeit it was more of a subconscious thing. It’s almost flattering, to see a powerful Sorcerer put her on such a pedestal.

Ciri could tell, Leonis genuinely believed she was more talented than he ever was, despite having been the one to invent and create Spells that Ciri would have never even thought of, let alone attempted. “Now that the Wild Hunt’s been stopped temporarily, it’s important that I teach you the basics, Zirael.”

“Wait, what do you mean temporarily?” The Witcheress clenched, spitting out through gritted teeth. “You don’t expect them to actually stop, do you? It’s our World on the line, once the political fallout of Eredin’s death has been solved, I have no doubt the new King or Queen will send his army after you and your friend, Zirael. If you want it to stop, the White Frost must be stopped.”

Ciri groaned, suddenly feeling like an extremely heavy weight had been dropped on her shoulders. Then, with a loud, tired sigh, she motioned, bringing every object in the room floating up. “I don’t believe I need any more basics, let’s start with the bigger Spells.”

“Did he teach you?” She merely nodded, ignoring the Sage’s astonished gaze. “How did he–?”

“By meshing his Magic with mine. Once he has figured out a Spell, Leonis will make me study its inner-working, then overlap his Magic unto mine and coax my Magic to… Imprint? Yes, imprint the Spell until it’s become instinctual to use it.” She paused, feeling a faint heat rising to her cheeks. It was quite the intimate process, as though Leonis was gently caressing every parts of her body. Yet, it upset her that he did not seem to realize what he was doing whatsoever.

“I still have to train, but that does cut down the time needed for me to learn his Spells.” The Sage’s eyes widened as he looked at her. “You must introduce me to this Leonis, such ingenious way to use the Elder Blood… It should not be possible, no one’s Magic is like anyone’s, even the Elder Blood. Each Child has a different flavor to them…”

Ciri had a feeling it’s due to the fact that Leonis’ Elder Blood was technically hers, but she did not respond. “Can you invite him next time, Zirael?”

She neither confirmed nor denied, replying cryptically. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now, please show me what you can already do so we don’t waste precious time.” The excitement in the Sage’s voice faded as quickly as it came. Thus began another of their many training sessions.

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

Geralt walked along the street. His blades had dulled after a long journey, and while he still did have maintenance kits, he thought it best to leave it to the professional to handle his equipment so those kits could be left for the road.

Armors and blades– Especially Silver ones did cost quite a penny, it’s better to have a real blacksmith take a look than to have his blades chipping in actions. The White Wolf had heard there was an Elven smith of renown around these parts, he merely needed to look for the man. After the attack on the City, people had grown increasingly paranoid if those they deemed inhuman, which as it would turn out, was an extensive list…

Unluckily for the Witcher, it did happen to include his kind.

Meaning he could not and should not expect any assistance from the locals with the exceptions of his close friends and acquaintances, none of whom was free to bring him to the smith– Hattori. He did not even have a map of the City, leaving stranded, wandering the streets to find the store.

Thankfully, his efforts were futile.

The White Wolf soon stumbled upon a crowd of people. They were surrounding a small shop with anvil and hammer laid strewn across the floor, looking like they had been kicked down by someone. It’s then that he noticed the Elf trying his hardest to calm the angry crowds that seemed more interested in destroying his properties than talking. “Pl- Please, I have nothing to do with them, I swear!”

“Shut it, knife-eared scum! Everyone knows those Skeletal Riders were you Elves!”

A few joined in to incite the crowds, speaking with such heartfelt words Geralt couldn’t help wondering if they had personally seen the Elf give a hand to the Wild Hunt. Shrugging the distracting thoughts away, the White Wolf pushed through the growing group of people, indifferent to their complaints and shouts. “You Hattori, the Master Bladesmith?”

The Elf swallowed thickly, cowering as he backed behind his fences, as if those could stop the Witcher from hurting him if he wanted. “Y- Yes, Master Witcher. I’m indeed Hattori, may I ask what you need?”

“I have a few swords, want you to have a look at them. Can you do that for me?” Geralt pressed on the mechanism, unclasping his swords from their sheaths as he drew them, glancing at the crowds menacingly. “Who the fok’ do yee’ think yee’ ‘re, filthy mutant?!”

Stoic as ever, the White Wolf replied with a nonchalance that screamed silent-‘n-deadly. “Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, now a man trying to seek a smith’s service. Now back off before you get hurt.”

The man taunted, jeering. “Butcher? What did yee’ do there, slaughter pigs and cows?”

As Luck would have it, today wasn’t the drunk’s death-day. His friends, who were laughing along mere seconds ago, paled and yanked on his wrists. “Mate, let’s go. He cut through half the village, came out with but a scratch…”

That wasn’t enough to deter the drunk however. He slurred, unsheathing his rusty sword and roared. “Fuck! Yee’ scared of this fookin’ mutant? Look at he! Bet he can’t wield his prick for shit, let alone those two swords!”

Things weren’t looking good, and Geralt was well-prepared to strike should the idiotic drunk decided to mess around when a feminine voice cut in their conversation. A voice he was oh-so familiar with, one he would often hear in his dreams. “Boys, boys, enough. The guards are already here, so unless you want to be caught.”

The cloaked Sorceress, his longtime lover didn’t get to finish her words. The moment the guards were mentioned, the crowds dispersed with little resistance. “Still have a habit of getting into troubles, I see.”

Geralt quipped. “Could’ve handled that myself.”

“I’m sure you could, Geralt.” Yennefer pulled down her hood, the ever-present playful smirk plastered on her soft, full lips. Lips that the White Wolf still remembered was on his… Perhaps he was more pent up than he thought. Having learnt of Ciri’s whereabouts, he had practically raced to Novigrad. There was no time to… Release himself on the roads, no time to visit brothels, and it was making him very conscious of the Sorceress’ everything. “Excited to see me?”

“Always.” He replied almost instantly. Taking in her breathtaking scent. “How are you, Yen?”

“I’m fine, working for Emhyr to find Ciri actually. Heard she’s in town?” Despite the joking manner in which she spoke, Geralt could see the genuine concern in her eyes. “She is. Come, I’ll take you to her.”

“I thought you wanted to get your swords repaired? Perhaps I can… Help you with that.” Yennefer winked at him saucily. With inhuman willpower, the White Wolf was able to force down the urge to peel the shapely outfit off her body, shuddering with lust internally. “Later–”

“To having your swords fixed, or having your other sword taken care of by me?”

He clenched his jaws, the tension clawing at his neck and skin like millions of ants. “Both. Now c’mon, Ciri’s at Triss’ place.”

They walked together, trading stories of their adventures and how they were faring after being separated. Until, inevitably, their topic turned to their daughter. “How’s she?”

Geralt hummed. “She’s fine. Eredin’s dead and she couldn’t be happier. Even found herself a new friend.”

Yennefer smiled. “Does this friend happen to be a guy?”

“He is–” Geralt chuckled. “But it isn’t as you .think. They haven’t done anything, I’m sure. He’s like her.”

“You mean he’s–?” Yennefer didn’t get to finish as they stopped at an old building. “Yes, he’s a Child of the Elder Blood.”

“Can he be trusted?” She questioned, worry marring her beautiful features.

“I’ve met and talked to him, he doesn’t mean Ciri harms. If anything, he’s helping her gain control over her abilities.” He pushed open the door to find the place a wreck. Tables and chairs pushed over, pots of plants smashed and shattered. The worst scenarios entered their minds, ‘till they heard a groan coming from behind the overturned table. “Leonis?”

A mop of hair popped up. “Geralt! Whastt brought ya’ here!”

The Sorcerer slurred as Geralt palmed his face. “What happened?”

Leonis giggled, tripping over the table leg and falling head-first to the ground. He clutched his head, yet his laughter only grew. “Can’t ya’ see, silly? I– *Hiccup*– Drank.”

Yennefer looked at the mess and wearily massaged her eyes, speaking in disbelief. “This is the one who killed Eredin?”

Then, she lowered her voice, lips twitching. “Maybe he wasn’t as big of a threat as we believed…”

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