Chapter 28: Froggy

“Absolutely out of the question. How could you possibly even think of doing something like this, letting a stranger, and a mutant at that, investigate our departed brothers murder,”

It was not a question. Brother Mark was in fine flow.

I found a seat and just let him get on with it.

“I refuse, I absolutely refuse to be questioned by a freakish mercenary mutant as though I am some kind of criminal.”

“You have to admit Freddie,” Sam piped up, meaning that I didn't have to admit anything. “That it is a bit...”

“Wrong,” Mark was clearly not done with the floor and still wanted to have his say. “It's wrong is what it is. Why not just say what you're thinking Frederick?”

Uh-oh. I was Frederick now. I must be in big trouble,

“You think we're all keeping something from you. You think this is all some kind of vast conspiracy against you and that you need to crusade to write some wrong. That's it isn't it.” Mark spun on Emma, “This is your fault for encouraging him you know. Bringing that Witcher friend of his into our home and encouraging his fantasies about marrying a Vampire. They've clearly used dark magics to get inside his brain and are using him to take control away from the rest of us.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond but Mark hadn't stopped his tirade.

“I forbid it. I absolutely forbid it. I know that the matter of inheritance is still up in the air while Father still languishes in his sick-bed but I have authority here as both the first-born and as a senior member of the church. You all know that I don't like to throw my rank around when it comes to family matters but in this case I feel absolutely justified.” He stalked over to me and wagged his finger at me in an attempt to exert his afore mentioned authority over me. “You will leave this investigation in the hands of the proper authorities. You will expel this mutant heretic from our home and after this family crisis you will either return to the university to carry out some proper scholarly work or I will have you sent to a monastery where you can properly study the articles of faith. You will call off your engagement with this Vampire of yours and live your life according to my direction and my law.”

The day had not started well.

Kerrass and I had sat in the practice yard the previous evening as I told him about what I had wanted. He had argued a little bit pointing out that he hunted monsters, not mundane murderers and he had added his voice to the argument that I should let the proper authorities deal with the matter but then I had countered with pointing out what we had seen of the proper authorities when we showed up. He had agreed with me.

“But there is another problem Frederick. Something that I should warn you about as you and I are friends. This is the kind of thing that never turns out well for the family unit. Ever. You and I are friends. Your siblings know this. To properly find a murderer I am going to need to look at all of the different angles of the problem which includes having to go through all of your families private affairs and dirty little secrets. No, you don't understand,” he held his hand up to stop me protesting.

“There are always little secrets. Things that you don't know about each other, little things that will shock you rigid about each other. I don't know what they are and to the outside world, it might not seem like very much but to each of you. It might turn out to be important. Do you see what I'm saying?”

I nodded and he looked at me sceptically.

“The other thing is this. For all the time that you have been travelling with me, you have been the outsider. Witcher's need to be outsiders so that we can properly do our job. We have to examine things from every angle without mercy or consideration. If the town is cursed then why is it cursed and how are we going to free the town from the curse. Can we cure the curse by killing one little girl or will the entire town suffer instead?”

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I shifted uncomfortably.

“That's an extreme example of course but we look in from the outside so that we can remain objective. But now you are on the inside. It is made worse by the fact that you are one of the people that I have to investigate.”

“Me, what did I do?”

“Off the top of my head? You came home. Under escort by a knight which is, therefore a cast iron alibi. Maybe there's something else going on that involves you. You are supposed to be a scholar but now you are a man of the world, why? If your sister gets her way you're probably going to marry into the nobility at a level which puts you ahead of even your oldest brother should they survive. You might protest and say she isn't a real Countess but to everyone else, a Countess in theory is still introduced as a Countess.

“Let's see, what else?” He started ticking off points on his fingers.

“You're a fighter now. You travel with a Witcher. You've started making your own list of contacts outside of the university. You've provided several letters of recommendation for various merchant types to your father meaning that, no matter what your father decides. Some people are getting richer because of your actions and some people are getting poorer.

“But how different might things have gone if Sir Rickard had never found you. If he'd been even two days later or if we'd been held up on the road. We rode for four days straight, give or take an hour or two. Your brother died half way through that. Is that significant? Was a message sent to someone that you were on the way home with a Witcher in tow?”

He shook his head.

“Of course you don't know. Neither do I. I will even admit that it's unlikely but at the same time it will need to be examined which means that I need to keep you out of it. You are used to tagging along and helping me bounce ideas around. That will not be the case here. There will be times when your perspective might be useful but there will be just as many times where it will not be. Do you understand all of that as well?”

I nodded. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

Kerrass grimaced.

“I'm not sure you do. I tell you what. Sleep on it. Have dinner tonight, sleep in your old bed and we'll meet down here for practice in the morning because if you think you're getting away with not doing that now that you're home you need to think again. But after all that. If you still want me to look into this then we shall work from there. That's the deal, take it or leave it.”

“I understand,” I responded. I could already tell that he wasn't going to budge on the matter.

Dinner that night was relatively quiet. Just the family and a few others that were staying in the castle pending taking up other cargoes. Everything felt on hold until father died so there was an odd kind of feeling of being frozen in time. Of all people it was actually Kerrass who started to liven up the evening telling, at Emma's insistence, his version of how the two of us had met. He went on a long and flowery account of how he had found me drowning in a relatively light rainfall and how he had been generous enough to take me under his wing. He went on to give a fairly good account of our destruction of that first ever Nekker nest that both made the company laugh at my expense but also made me out to be some kind of hero.

I did notice that more than one person in the hall started to look at me somewhat differently after that. I put in the odd joke and made similarly humorous observations about some of Kerrass' own behaviour so that the two of us were able to keep the conversation relatively light and fluffy for the rest of the evening. All the while my family and a couple of acquaintances picked over my new found monster hunting expertise and my teacher in the ways of the world. It would have been a pleasant evening but at the same time we were still avoiding the topic that our elder brother was lying in the coldest basement that we had, awaiting internment and that our father was upstairs fighting for his last breath.

My mother was the first person to excuse herself from the company claiming fatigue and wanting to check up on Father and Mark followed. Emma and Sam kept Kerrass and I company for some time until I was yawning so hard that I was beginning to be concerned that the top of my head was going to fall off. I made my excuses and sloped off to bed.

Where I couldn't sleep.

Isn't it always the way. I was physically exhausted after several days of hard riding, my legs ached, my backside was sore and by the morning I absolutely expected to be stiff as a board. I hadn't slept properly since receiving my sisters message and by anyone's estimation, I was exhausted.

But I couldn't sleep.

The bed of my childhood which had nursed me to sleep so many times just felt uncomfortable. Another sign that I had physically changed shape. I no longer seemed to, well, fit in my own home. I lay there on a blanket, it being far too hot to curl up underneath the blanket, and stared at the ceiling looking at the old cracks in the stonework. Old shapes that I used to imagine were armies and faces. I had mapped whole continents into the patterns on the ceiling and imagined wars and treaties and trade pacts between the nations that I had invented. It had been an almost hypnotic exercise that I used to use to quiet my brain after a hard days study or another days unjust beating out on the practice fields.

But tonight it didn't work. It all seemed so small.

Eventually I pulled on a shirt and went for a stomp around the castle in search of old nooks and crannies. An effort to get the castle under my feet again. To see if I could find something that would remind my tired body that I was home.

I crept along the halls as quietly as I could, a habit formed from not wanting to be caught doing this same thing when I was younger. I justified it to myself that I was trying not to wake anyone else but the truth is that it was a habit so ingrained into my body that I couldn't shake it despite having every right to stomp about my home at night if I so wished. The sounds of the castle slid into my mind. As I passed Mark's chamber I could hear his deep bass voice snoring and mumbling in his sleep, and grinned. From elsewhere I could hear the guards on their nightly patrols both inside and outside the castle, keeping us safe while we slept.

Maybe that was why I couldn't sleep. I was so used to taking care of my own safety that allowing other people to take care of me seemed alien somehow.

Somewhere I could hear the sounds of a woman's pleasure. I couldn't tell where it was coming from and I didn't try to find out as it seemed rude.

That was a new sound.

Definitely a new sound for this wing of the castle where my family and guests stayed.

I grinned at the thought. Kerrass had probably found himself a willing maid of some kind. Judging by the looks he had got from some of the serving maids at dinner, he wouldn't have found it too hard.

I moved on.

The Kitchen was just where I left it. At least that hadn't changed with the night staff frantically cleaning everything ready for the breakfast cooks to come in in the early hours of the morning. Here again there was a sense of waiting, as though the storm was about to break. As soon as the funeral and the wake were going to be announced then these rooms would be a flurry of activity. The guest rooms would be packed to the brim and the kitchen would be a 24 hour industry. But for now, they sharpened knives and cleaned out bowls. Sweeping out fire-pits and cleaning ovens to produce the maximum possible heat.

The biscuits were still in the same place though.

As were the herbal teas and the drinks taken out for the guards to keep them warm.

The courtyard was deathly quiet as I stomped up to the walls. A couple of people called their greetings. One strange incident was that a new Sergeant to the garrison told me to get my head down so that I would be properly rested for the morning drills. It took me a minute to realise that he had mistaken me for a new recruit and I laughed. Things might have gone badly had a family veteran leant over and whispered in the Sergeants ear. There was some good natured chuckling all round and then we all hushed up like errant children who had been caught making noise in a church.

I walked round the walls and climbed the towers. More sign that I had changed. That exercise would once have left me out of breath but now I took the stairs two at a time and barely noticed the strain. More and more I had the sense that I had moved on.

It is a strange realisation to know that the place that you grew up in is no longer your home.

I chatted with those men that I knew, shared drinks out of flasks and told old jokes. I even got some more respect from the armed men as I could now talk about weapons, and fighting techniques with all of them as well as telling a few filthy jokes of my own. I was happy that I seemed to fit in with these men that had had a habit of terrifying me when I was much younger but another part of me was sad. I was a fighting man now and for some reason that loss of innocence didn't really sit right with me any more. I promised that I would be out in the morning for some training which surprised many of them. It was an easy promise to keep as Kerrass would be hammering on my door when the sun was coming up anyway.

I found myself looking forward to the activity.

My legs were jumping and felt as though they wanted to run. To sprint somewhere, to jump and skip as though my muscles were overflowing with extra energy. All the while I was yawning so wide there was a danger that my open mouth might catch flies.

Eventually I found myself at my sisters door. There was light flickering under the door so I knew she was awake. My sister was one of those lucky people who only needed to sleep for five to six hours a night and as such she is often the last to go to bed and beats most of us down to breakfast in the morning boasting that she likes her porridge hot. I knocked and was permitted entry.

“I had wondered if you would come tonight,” she said with a fond smile. She had clearly been in bed herself, the bed-clothes in some disarray and a book was on her night stand, upside down on the page breaking the spine. My inner scholar winced at the wanton cruelty to the perfectly innocent written word.

“What can I say? I find I can't sleep.”

“Your bed too comfortable?”

“Something like that.” I smiled as I sat. “The truth is that I find I'm... I don't even know the right word.”

Her smile echoed my own. A little sad but with some humour deep down in there somewhere.

“You've moved on Freddie. This isn't your life any more. Even if it ever was.”

“Close, and that's certainly part of it.” I accepted a cup of tea. “I find I'm just so.... dissatisfied.”

Emma's eyebrows shot up. “You know that there is more than one willing maid that can help you with that nowadays.” Her eyes were glittering.

“No it's not like that,”

“You can't have my maid though,”

I threw a cushion at her that she caught with a laugh.

Then a thought occurred.

“Really?” I said, “There are maids that would be into that now. They never used to give me a second look.”

“You've filled out Freddie. Word has spread about you threatening that Under-sheriff, odious little man that he was, and suddenly you are exotic and interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“As I say, you can't have my maid though.”

“She struck me as more of a personal aide than a maid anyway.”

Emma cackled at that. “An aide. I like that. I will have to tell her.”

“And you want me to go ahead with this Marriage?” It was one of the things playing on my mind.

“I do,”

“Even though she's hundreds of years old?

“And a vampire. Yes.”

“Why?”

She thought for a moment.

“I received the first letter a little while ago so it will have been sent shortly after you left her neighbourhood. It was very formal and she has since admitted that she asked someone about what should be put in such letters and then just added a few bits. But her way of writing and her wit came across quite well. What can I say? She made me laugh. I wrote back and we talked like that for several letters.

“Doing the maths she sits down to write a response the moment that she receives a letter herself and I approve of that kind of industry and care as it makes me think that she does things quickly so she doesn't forget. She doesn't take herself too seriously, she is clever and has an interesting point of view that I found appealing. In short, even if you don't marry her, I would still attempt to maintain a friendship with her and have told her so. She was enormously flattered by that and I guess that I have a firm friend there in her own way, but the real reason that I am for this marriage is this.

“I think she's genuinely interested in you. I don't know if that is her form of love or affection or a crush or anything else but I think she likes you and I think she cares for you despite only knowing you a little.”

“In her own way,”

Emma toasted me with her own teacup. “As you say, in her own way.” Emma seemed happy, relaxed in a way that was unusual in my sister and I found myself wondering about it.

“What about Mark?”

Emma pulled a face.

“You let me worry about Arch-Bishop Mark. Don't you worry. All you have to worry about is deciding whether or not you like her enough to go through with it. If Mark is not happy then I can soon find another churchman that will bless the union. In her last letter she told me that she kept threatening the local Bishop that she wanted to get baptised.”

I laughed at that.

“No it's not my pending nuptials that's bothering me.” I said after settling down a little, “even though I will admit that I thought she was joking when she first asked who would be in charge of arranging my marital status.”

Emma looked at me over the top of her tea-cup. Big sisterly cynicism radiating from her eyes.

“OK, it's not only about that. I just... Why aren't we doing anything?”

“What do you mean? What would you have us do?”

“I don't know, anything. Searching the castle for a murderer for a start. Questioning people, shouting, getting upset.”

“That's not how things are done?”

“WHY NOT?” I was exasperated.

“Because we have to be seen not to fly off the handle whenever we get the chance. We are the Lords of this domain Freddie. We're in charge. We are it. If we start disrespecting the authorities where does it stop. In this case we would be protesting about the conduct of someone appointed by the Sheriff. He answers to the High Sheriff who in turn answers to the King. It might change now that Nilfgaard are involved but that's still the thing. At what stage does our little protest turn into a rebellion? At what point would we get an army turn up and oust us from our homes to the execution block?”

It dawned on me, about here, that she was as frustrated as I was.

“This is how things are done Freddie. I don't like it and I will be sending a protest letter to the Sheriff to complain about the conduct of his underling but as there isn't another under-sheriff we might just have to live with it.”

“We could investigate ourselves?”

“At what point does that become interfering with an existing investigation?”

“I already interfered with an existing investigation when I booted that little shit in the head.”

“Yes you did. It was wonderful. I wish I could have seen it. Luckily Sir Rickard has taken that off us but don't think it might not cause other problems.”

“I do have another solution.”

“Oh yes?”

“I could hire someone to do it. Private investigators do exist.”

“Not often as they tend to be hired to go after the wrong person. You're thinking of that Witcher fellow aren't you.” It wasn't a question.

“I am. In fact I'm going to.”

She sighed. “I wish you wouldn't but I can't stop you. It will work if we can depend on his discretion which I suppose we will have to. Mark will have your hide though and I'm not sure he would be wrong to do so.”

“I know, but I can't do nothing. Edmund is our brother.”

“Edmund was our brother,” Her Rage was sudden and overwhelming. She reminded me of a cat, hair on end, teeth bared and claws out.“You didn't know him like I did Freddie. You don't know what he was capable of. I hated him and I am glad that he's dead.”

Her words, along with the hate that they contained, echoed in my mind as I left her rooms that night to return to my own for the night.

In the morning I went down to train with Kerrass and a couple of the other guards. Kerrass pushed me hard and I had to really fight to hold my own against him. It was only afterwards that I discovered that the guards were cheering my name as I fought. At one point I thought I noticed Sam watching a little way off but by the time I thought to check he had vanished.

Kerrass asked me whether I still wanted to proceed with my contract. When I told him that I did he insisted upon gathering my family and informing them of Kerrass' new task.

As my sister had predicted, Mark did not take it well.

“You are done Frederick. Done. Finished. You will find yourself a proper career and then, if I'm feeling generous we will find you a proper, Flame fearing woman to take you in and marry you where you can properly obey the tenets of the Holy Flame.”

I opened my mouth in protest at the decrees of my brother as he so casually disposed of my future but as it turns out, he still wasn't done because then he spun back to Emma.

“And as for you. You've been swanning around here as though you own the place for far too long, it's time that you properly settle down and...”

“That's enough Mark,” my sister snarled. It was an old argument between the two of them. “As of yet you still have no right to tell us how to live our lives and until the matter of inheritance is sorted out, you still don't have that authority. It was myself that offered Witcher Kerrass hospitality when he arrived at my home. Not yours, as you so obviously have an Arch-Bishops palace to call your own now and this is the first time you've set foot in this castle for what, three years?”

“That's beside the point,”

“No it's not. It's exactly the point. You become a priest and you give up all rights to earthly possessions. I've seen some of those palaces, they look pretty earthly to me. But in the meantime whatever else happens, the Witcher stays.”

“But...”

“Secondly. The proper arrangements of a child of this house for marriage are none of your concern. They are the concern of the child's parents which has been delegated to me, his elder sister and the eldest daughter of this house, which gives me precedence on this matter over you. Father gave his blessing to the union and actively told me to proceed. But apart from anything else... it hasn't been agreed yet and won't be until both parties, which includes her by the way, agree to it.”

“You know that...”

“Thirdly,” Emma growled. “Every single one of us here are over the age of our majority and you have no control over our lives. Tell me what to do again and we'll see how your prestige in the church continues without the constant stream of capital that I send into it's coffers.”

“Ah so we get to threats now is it...” Mark was red in the face.

“I think we've got somewhat off topic.” Sam piped up seeming quite calm which leant some much needed quiet to the room. “Freddie, I will admit to some concern here. You turn up, see something suspicious and then decide that you're going to get your pet Witcher to investigate this murder.”

“He's not my pet.” I managed. I was struggling to decide how to feel. Furious? Definitely but I was also amused. The entire family had reverted to type with alarming speed. The fragile alliance of my Fathers injury and pending demise had shattered and everyone was at each others throats. I would have laughed but it all seemed a little tragic as I had honestly assumed that they would all have supported my decision.

“I misspoke and I apologise,” Sam. SAM of all people was being the calm one, “But nevertheless there are things that you do when this kind of thing happens. Regardless of how you feel about the matter and how you feel about the officers in charge of the investigation. Feelings that I for one think are justified by the way. You have to let the proper authorities pursue this. That's how society works.” he was appealing to my sense of civic responsibility. A good play for my brother. “We can't all go running off to protest when we don't like the way things are going. That leads to vigilantism which can be worse than the crime, or equally as misguided and dangerous. Surely you must realise that, especially as you are far from unbiased in this matter.”

“You're right,” I said, finally wanting to get my words in edge ways. “You're right, I'm not unbiased. I'm absolutely furious. I am spitting mad, hopping up and down with it and so angry that I am barely able to speak.”

“Yet I notice that you are speaking.”

“Mark!”

“What astonishes me is this.” I was trying desperately to keep my own temper in check. Trying so hard to keep it tamped down and myself restrained but it was getting difficult. The moral high ground can be awfully lonely sometimes and the overwhelming desire to get mucky with everyone else is sometimes a little too much. “None of the rest of you seem to care. I'm livid, absolutely livid. I'm also terrified. So scared that I can barely speak. Our brother was killed. The presumptive heir to Fathers titles, lands, status and wealth was murdered. But from a distance there is another word for that kind of death. A death that sits at the top of society and that word is 'assassinated'.”

Mark shifted his weight uncomfortably. Emma wouldn't look at me.

“There could be any number of reasons as to why Edmund was killed. Personally I prefer the theory that he got in too deep with someone but that argument doesn't hold water as with all due respect, he was about to become the wealthiest man in this corner of the world and therefore more than able to pay his debts. There are other possibilities. Someone in the castle could have killed him from jealousy or rage or any other number of reasons.”

“Preposterous,” said Mark, “None of us would have...”

“By the flame are you even listening to yourself? We are not the only people that live in this castle. We are also not the only people that spend time here with servants, merchants, soldiers and all the families of those people coming and going. With apologies to Emma and our mother, Edmund was well known for putting it about a bit. He beats and rapes some woman on the lands only it turns out that the husband, father, brother, son of the woman in question saw an opportunity for revenge. They took it. That's if the woman herself didn't take the opportunity herself. Are they done? Will they be satisfied with just our brothers corpse or, having tasted noble blood, will they want more? I don't know, do any of you?

“What if there's a foreign influence. What if someone in Nilfgaard's court has finally heard of the Baron von Coulthard and decided that they want our money for themselves and this is the first step in an attack. What if this person seduces and marries poor Frannie, Sammie is killed in a Battlefield “incident”. I get eaten” by some monster. None of this is proven to be anything but occupational hazards and suddenly, with no other heir and Emma being unmarried. He inherits according to the law.”

“You didn't mention me there?” Mark put in. He was caught up despite himself.

“No because the church is so frightened about the Nilfgaardian worship of the Emperor as a semi-divine being that if Nilfgaard told them to then it would be found illegal for you to inherit.”

Mark began to protest but I could see the realisation in his eyes.

“You know he's right there Mark.” Emma had spoken up again.

“The proper authorities is a nice idea. I like the idea of someone finding out the culprit and not carting me off for interrogation on the basis of, and I quote, “there are no other suspects”. As I have just demonstrated there are plenty of other suspects so my question is this. Why aren't the rest of you climbing the walls, tearing those walls down and in the offices of important people RIGHT FUCKING NOW demanding that they take this seriously and find out WHO MURDERED OUR BROTHER?”

There was a pause as the echoes died down.

“You didn't have to live with him over the last couple of years. You wouldn't care either.” Emma said into the floor.”

“Maybe not. But even though I didn't like him very much either and yes, as I've said before I did hate him as well occasionally. He was our Brother and we need to know, we have to know what happened. For our safety and the safety of those that we care about as well as those people that fall under our care. I do not trust the “proper authorities” so I am asking someone who I know to be skilled in this kind of area to look into it. That's all.”

“That's all?” Mark snarled. “THAT'S ALL?” he thundered giving me the feeling of what he would be like on his pulpit when he had the fire in his belly.

“He is a mutant, a heretical mutant and a magic user. That he was a friend to you was disquieting enough but the fact that he's got so far into your thoughts and feelings that you are so set on letting him tear through the families private affairs. He is gone, he will be thrown from the castle right now.”

“I saw him practising with those swords of his.” Sam put in, “This morning on the field. I have to admit that I wouldn't want to be the one that has to try and make him go anywhere he doesn't want to go.” He grinned, it was a noble effort to try and calm the situation down.

But then he ruined it by agreeing with Mark.

“But I have to agree with Mark Freddie. I will not answer to some... Mutant freak of nature who goes against Nature. I simply will not. I refuse. Emma is right. This is not my home and for my money, the freak is pleasant enough company but I would suggest that he make himself scarce before we do have to call out the guard to remove him from the place.”

He put an emphasis on “freak” and “mutant” that made them sound like grave insults and I felt my the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“There you see.” Mark nodded approval to Sam. “The mutant leaves. I also refuse to answer any questions.”

“His name is Kerrass,” piped up my sister. “He is my guest. I welcomed him and he stays, as my guest until he wishes to leave. I share Freddie's concern about what happened to Edmund but at the same time I think this action is foolish.” She looked at me. “This investigation will not go ahead.”

I subsided a bit. I felt defeated and beaten. A younger son again, a failure and a fraud.

“I think it's time for me to say something now,” said Kerrass. He had stood silently at the end of the room where he had stayed and kind of drifted away from people's perceptions even though he had clearly been listening intently.

“I find your discussions fascinating, not having a family of my own I can honestly admit that I find your interactions extremely interesting from an outsiders perspective of course.”

“Your observations are not important to us now, you may...” Mark tried to dismiss him with a wave of his hand. Exactly the kind of gesture that my Father used to use that made me so angry.

“I wasn't finished.” Kerrass' cold words slashed across the room like a whip-crack. He didn't speak loudly but there were teeth to those words. He stepped forwards until he was in the centre of the room.

“I am Fredericks friend and I have to say that after close to eighty five years on the road I have met many good and fine people during those travels and Fred here is one of the best. I am not given to exaggeration so you know that to be true. If anything his faults are that he tends to care a little bit too much and he is a little too innocent but given enough time, I think that he will be a great man some day. I am proud to call him my friend and as such I would have words to say to each of you.

“I would ask you, Priest, what good you have done. You might claim to have saved many souls from your pulpit, sitting in comfort in the Arch-Bishops palace that I too have seen, or you might even have gone with the armies to give solace to the troops. I don't know, but I do know how many lives Frederick has saved. Actively saved. Some were people that I needed help to save, some were people that I wasn't there to save and he stood over them, knees shaking, with his spear in front of him. He's run into burning buildings and plucked babies from the gaping maws of monsters that would make you piss your cassock. By my count he has saved forty two lives. One of those lives is mine and that one he has saved several times.”

It was a strange feeling listening to Kerrass talking about me then and there.

“Next, you, Samuel the soldier, Sir Samuel the knight. Here is my question for you. How many people have you killed? Don't bother answering, you've fought in a war so it must be quite a few but I will ask a follow up. How often do you think about those people that you, personally, have killed with your weapons? How many other people have you killed? How many children and women and old, sick and crippled men? You might think that you have not killed anyone but in that case I would call you naïve. You are a knight. How often have you gone out to forage for food? How often have you taken grain, or meat, or the villages last cow or horse from the pleading peasants as they begged you to be merciful. How many people have died because you took that food? You might say that it was war, that you were defending those self-same people but in the end, you killed them just as surely as the encroaching enemy armies would have. When you thought about them at all, if you thought about them, you would have thought that it was their duty to give those things up. That it was your right to take them. Didn't you?”

Sam said nothing and although he tried to meet Kerrass' gaze, after some time he found that he could not.

“I thought so. How heroic of you. Frederick? How many men have you killed?”

“Seven,” I answered promptly, “With my own hands.”

I saw the family take that point in.

“Now,” said Kerrass and I saw that he was addressing the room again. “That might not sound like many to a hardened soldier like Sir Samuel but I know something that Frederick does that I have seen no-one else do. He goes out of his way to find out the name's of the men he has killed. He writes them down on a piece of paper that he hides in his diaries and at every available opportunity he takes that piece of paper out and prays for the souls of those men that he has killed.

“He prays, priest, even though everyone, including me would say that those deaths do not fall at his feet as he has only killed to defend himself or to defend others. But he punishes himself because of those deaths, even when he has saved other lives in that killing.”

It never ceases to astonish me how Kerrass, like any great orator, can keep the attention of the room centred on himself when he is speaking.

“Madam, we come to you last.” Emma shook her head defiantly. “I am a Witcher madam which means that I can see, hear and smell better than most men due to my,” his mouth quirked, “mutated nature and as such I will admit to knowing your secret. Of all the people that you know, of all the people in this room you are afraid of letting that secret out to, and after this little meeting I can see why as well, but given all of this, which of your siblings is most likely to accept that secret without comment?”

He straightened and I was astonished to see Emma pale and lower her head.

“I have never had a family,” Kerrass said, “What little I remember of my birth mother tells me that I was sold to the Witcher's school but even then I am not convinced that she didn't do me a service. But you people, the richest people in this area of the world. I would have thought you could afford to be more understanding.

“I am Frederick's friend. I came here to support him and help him through what must be a difficult time and I was glad to do so. As his friend I would stand beside him. I would help him in his hardships and it shames you all to look at him so... so scornfully when I would be glad to fight and die for him. I would certainly challenge all of you for the wretches that you have proven yourselves to be.”

“But now I am not Kerrass his friend, instead I must be Kerrass the Witcher. He is my client which changes the nature of things. I work for him and I have already accepted the contract which means that you do not get to dictate the terms of those things. The contract has been accepted and the price has been agreed. I will investigate the murder of Edmund von Coulthard. You can try to stop me if you wish but I will exercise my own judgement on those matters, including acting to defend myself should it become necessary. When I am done I shall make my report to Frederick where he can decide what to do with it. That is what is going to happen.”

Mark opened his mouth,

“You can always refuse to answer, but such refusal will be part of my report and I will find out why you refused.”

The raw menace in his voice was startling and for a while there I felt shame.

But there was another person in the room. Someone who, until then we, including myself, had all forgotten.

My mother stood up from her chair.

“Witcher Kerrass. Your assessment of my family is rather brutal but the rebuke, although harsh which I have no doubt is well meant on behalf of my son, is not entirely unfair.”

She skewered us all with that look. Sooner or later we all have to remind ourselves that our mothers are still our mothers no matter how old we grow and how powerful we become, our mothers still have the ability to reduce us to tiny mewling babies.

“Frederick also makes some valid points about defence of the family and our people. Witcher Kerrass operates outside the normal legal system and as such he can pursue his own investigation independent of the process being used to discredit Frederick and the rest of the family and is therefore a good solution. I would also like to know the reason for this crime. Witcher Kerrass?”

“Yes Ma'am,” Odd how military he was suddenly behaving.

“I look forward to your report and encourage you to start right away. You may begin with me if you wish. However this little conference has kept me from my husband's side for too long so you will need to come to the sick-room.”

She nodded to the room,

“Master Witcher, children.” She turned and left. She was dressed as the most common nun but she was still lady of the manor.

It was some time before anyone else spoke. To no-one's surprise it was Mark.

“Well, Mother might be happy, but I am not. I will not associate with a deviant mutant and refuse to have anything to do with this.”

“Oh give over,” sneered Sam, “You don't need to convince us of your separation between church rank and family.”

Mark stormed off at that.

Sam stood after that and approached Kerrass. “Valid points Witcher, you have given me much to think about.” Sam extended a hand. Kerrass hesitated a moment before shaking it.

“I was possibly a bit cruel,”

“A bit?” Sam grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“Only a bit,” Kerrass agreed. “Soldiers are renowned for their inability to think independently.”

Sam laughed. “At your service Witcher,” he said.

“In which case I will start with you. Please have a seat?” Kerrass poured himself a cup of whatever drink was in the pot, raised his eyebrows in the question at Sam who declined before turning back to me where I was back to taking a seat.

“Thank you Frederick.” he said simply.

“What?”

Kerrass took a sip from his cup and tipped a large spoonful of honey into it.

“That was a dismissal Freddie.”

“I don't understand.”

“Yes you do, you're just being obstinate. This is the part of the job that I don't need you for. I work for you but my method is my own and, as I warned you, you are also under investigation. I will send for you when I need you. You too Milady.”

He sat down facing Sam with a patented Kerrass smile.

“Ummm,” I heard myself say.

It's an odd thing. On the one hand there was the ingrained habit of being Kerrass' assistant over some time and sitting in on most of his “interrogations” coupled with the fact that this whole thing was happening because I had put these events into motion. I wanted to see what Sam had to say for himself. On the other hand, I was well aware of what it was that Kerrass was talking about and realised that my feet should already be walking.

It took me a moment to realise that I hadn't moved.

“Fuck off Freddie,” Kerrass put a little emphasis into it as though he was talking to a child.

Emma tugged at my sleeve and we fled together.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked when we were some way down the corridor.

“I don't know,” I was frowning. The world had changed again and I wasn't entirely comfortable with it. I liked being on the inside. I enjoyed being part of the solution when Kerrass walked into town. Now I was part of the problem and I couldn't complain about it because I had put myself there.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked her instead.

“I don't know,” she looked confused and upset. “No, no I don't think so. I want to think. Kerrass said some things there that caught me off guard and I want to... I want to think about them.”

She was frowning now and seemed a little vacant.

I nodded.

“I think I will go and try to work up another sweat then, try and take my mind off things.”

“Good idea. Don't forget to eat something though. I know you when you get into one of your concentrations.

You just forget to eat.”

I nodded. She wasn't wrong and we separated.

A thought occurred. “Should I try and speak to Mark?”

Emma thought. “Nah. Let him stew in his own juices. Mother will deal with him and I still control the purse strings and I will until I get told that I don't by Daddy's lawyer which will take time. Even if he dies tonight.”

I nodded and waved before moving off.

She was probably right. Mark would either calm down or he wouldn't there was no point worrying about it at the moment. Although the thought that I might have to marry Ariadne to avoid the fate of being a church scholar was not a pleasant one. I didn't want to marry someone for a reason other than the fact that I wanted to marry them but it seemed that that choice was being taken away from me. Family duty or personal freedom, not Love or even affection.

Hardly seems fair.

I couldn't say that I hadn't been warned though.

I did go out to the practice yard and got my spear out of the armoury to discover that it had been cleaned and polished from the mornings drills. Kerrass would be cross with me as he always insisted that a fighter should maintain his own weapons. He was not wrong.

I did a bunch of slow drills in an effort to calm myself. The point was to do all the set of moves that you would normally do in a drill but as slowly as possible while keeping the movements smooth. It's not as easy as you might think but in the right circumstances it can be quite calming.

It didn't work this time.

I sat back down and began to maintain my own weapon.

That didn't work to calm me down either.

I realised that I had been working on the same spot for some minutes when Sam sat next to me and handed me a plate.

“What's this?”

“What does it look like?”

“Umm, a Roast Pork sandwich. With apple sauce.”

“Yeah,”

I took it and took a large mouthful. It was delicious.

“Thanks,”

Sam sat next to me.

“Don't thank me yet. I fucking spat in it.” He grinned.

“I deserved that,”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” I stared at the empty plate. The food had vanished in short order.

“Why?”

“Lets just say that when you wiped that gunk out of your eyes this morning. It wasn't sleep.”

Sam stared at me before exclaiming in horror and recoiling.

It was a joke that one of Sir Rickards men told me. I hadn't got it at the time but now I understand the genius. The imagination is much crueller than a punchline.

“You look very innocent when you sleep.” I said with a grin.

“Fucking hell. That vampire has gotten to you you sick fuck.” He grinned back.

We laughed and I felt better.

He had a play with my spear and I examined his new coat of arms that had been engraved into the pommel of his sword. The blade was heavier than I would have liked and I said so. He told me that it was to break through armour.

He said that he didn't understand the long cutting edge of the spear head rather than just having a point. I said what Kerrass had said to me all that time ago. That points work well in formation but not so well on foot and that sometimes, monsters need sharp edges.

“I'll bow to your superior knowledge,”

“As I will to yours.”

He nodded as he re-sheathed his blade. I found myself admitting that he suited his uniform and coat of arms and let go of the resentment that I had held for a long time at my more athletically gifted brother. He moved now as though the sword was part of him like an extra arm or a leg.

“How did it go?” I asked suddenly.

“The interrogation. It was fine, a lot less angry than I was expecting to be honest. I tell you truthfully brother that I had not imagined a Witcher telling jokes.”

I snorted. Kerrass had once admitted that one of the best ways to get people to open up is to make them laugh. I said so.

“That sly fucker. Anyway he asked me about how we found Edmund and the events before and after within about a day. Then he asked about Dad's accident a bit and then asked me to escort him up to see mother.”

“Dad's accident?”

“Yeah, I asked him why he cared so much and he shrugged. Heh. I did hear that he was forcefully kept from Mark's rooms though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Mark still has his church guards. They've started guarding his door in pairs and the rest are put up in the barracks down in second level. Captain Froggart is really pissed about it. Apparently they just walked in and demanded one of the buildings to themselves without asking. Not that Froggy wouldn't have been accommodating but still... You know Froggy?”

“I know Froggy.”

Captain Froggart was an old soldier who was responsible for the family and castle's security. In the event of an actual attacking force into our lands it would be Knight-Captain Froggart who would command the Coulthard response. He was frighteningly competent, ridiculously good at his job and as far as I could tell he was universally hated by his men. But if anyone insulted old Froggy in front of any of his men then that person could expect to wake up with a shock.

That shock being that someone had removed their lungs.

“But your Witcher...”

“I notice that he's my Witcher now.”

“Shut the fuck up I'm telling a story.”

“Sorry.”

“So you should be. Anyway, your Witcher goes up, all polite and asks to speak to the Arch-Bishop. He's all polite and everything. The guards tell him to Fuck off. The Witcher insists that they check with the Arch-Bishop, still all polite and stuff, the guard pokes his head through, there's some mumbling before the guard comes back and says some flowery words about the Arch-Bishop being indisposed. The other guard then tells the Witcher that what that means is “Fuck off.” The Witcher listens to these words politely and then tells the guard that he will enquire as to the Bishops health on a daily basis, and indeed whenever he was passing. He says that he has some extensive knowledge of herbalism and that he might even have an ointment that has just been prepared by his own fair hand for the use of soothing troubled brows at which point the church guards start getting a bit more aggressive.”

“Oh holy Flame.”

“That's exactly what I said. The Witcher, all innocent good will wishes the Bishop well and it was such a shame that the guards wouldn't let him past when he might be able to help with his indisposition before walking off.”

I was giggling. “That's beautiful.”