Chapter 36: Brothers job to tease their siblings

“So it was those... things that were in the box?” Mark asked us after a long period of silence during which he had sat back in his chair looking pale and sweating. I couldn't speak for Kerrass but I for one was certainly convinced of his innocence in this matter now. He had been genuinely shocked at the appearance of the stone tablet and the silver ankh and had asked numerous questions during the narrative about how we found the box and what had happened before and after. He had examined the reports and offered insightful comments supporting some of our theories. He had also been genuinely frightened for me about opening the box.

“So you're definitely alright now?” He said to me then.

“Yes, I'm fine.” I answered with a smile. It is always nice to realise the genuine affection that a family member holds for you, especially when that affection has been somewhat doubtful in the past.

He nodded. “Anything I can do,” he said to me, “If you need to give confession or hold a vigil or anything that might put that awful experience behind you.”

“Thank you,” I said again. “But I think I'm alright. It wasn't me thinking and feeling those things. Part of my...distress was that those thoughts were so alien to me. I couldn't have felt that. If my, I suppose that the right word is “tastes” ran in that direction, however deeply buried they might be buried, then I might be a little more upset.”

“True, true and that speaks well of you. It really does. So why come to me?”

“Because, we are still missing the last piece of the puzzle,” Kerrass chimed in. Mark sat back in his chair.

“We don't know what those, items or relics might be or what significance they have and as such we don't know what was going on. Despite being, and I flatter myself and the lady Laurelen here, experts in our relevant fields, other than the fact that these items have religious significance we don't know what they mean together. So we came to our local religious expert for several reasons. The first is that you know more than us. The second being that you can be relied on to keep the matter discreet as it concerns your family rather than the university experts who will want to discuss, debate and argue with their fellows on the subject,”

Mark snorted at that but was nodding.

“Finally we wanted to check you had nothing to do with it.”

“Are you now convinced of my innocence?” Mark asked slyly with a small smile and a gleam in his eye.

“Mostly,” I answered with a similar smile.

Mark laughed at that and it was another glorious release of tension. My sisters confession had cleared the air between us and now Mark felt less like “Arch-Bishop Mark,” and more the “Mark who used to sneak me sweets in confessional”. It felt good.

“First tell me what you understand them to be.” Mark leant back into a lecturer pose. I imagined him teaching a group of young priests in a seminary somewhere.

“Separately. The Ankh is a symbol of life.” I said. “People wear them as jewellery similar to the way you might wear a symbol of the eternal fire. I can name some famous people that have done so and publicly as well. I understand it was from the south originally and might come from Zerrikania or further but beyond that...” I shrugged. “The stone tablet is a portable alter of the Lionheaded Spider. Otherwise known as the Goddess of death and murder. I know that her worship is forbidden although her priests and priestesses have genuine power.”

Mark winced a little, presumably at my ignorance and simplifications.

This work is hosted on mananovel.com

“I know that much but more to the tune of how to deal with such things when I find them in crypts.” Kerrass admitted. “I know that you desecrate a shrine to the Lionhead when you find one, most commonly by kicking it over till it breaks and then pissing or defecating on it. I also know that...begging your pardon Arch-Bishop, but that they are only dangerous when unattended. If the shrine is attended by a holy person or priestess then they only cause a problem when interfered with.”

Mark nodded some confirmations.

“You are mostly correct although I would always recommend against defecation as a means of desecration. I would not want to bare my arse to an angry alter to an angry God. To the layman you should always send for a priest. Between these four walls that recommendation extends to a priest or priestess of any religion.”

“But you don't deny that the Lion head is not necessarily evil?” I asked. I will admit that I was shocked. When learning about the Lionheaded Spider from my tutor it was full of doom and damnation and that worshippers should all be burnt at the stake.

“I think that the Witcher will agree with me as to the fact that a things nature does not necessarily make it evil.”

“One of the few things that we might agree about,” Kerrass commented with a smile.

“True,” Mark had an answering smile, “but that's a conversation for another time.”

“I also know that when the two symbols are found together, bound together and inverted then they should be destroyed to the maximum degree.”

“Quite right Master Witcher, do you know why though?”

“No,” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

Mark sighed. “I sometimes feel for the Witchers,”

“Not often though,” Kerrass put in,

“No, it's not their fault that they are Godless, heretical mercenaries.” The two men laughed. It was good to see them getting on.

“But no, I sometimes feel sorry for them. Mages created them, gave them the tools and the knowledge to fight for us but none of the reasons as to why.”

“To protect people surely,” I said, noting the dangerous glint in Kerrass' eyes.

“Undeniably,” agreed Mark, “In the Macro scale but in the Micro scale? Why do we destroy these things? Why do we tell Witchers what to kill but not why that thing and not the other thing? The Witchers must make their own minds up. What if they get it wrong?”

“Witchers have studied these problems since their creation,” Kerrass said carefully. “But we are getting off topic. Perhaps we could table that conversation for another time? I look forward to hearing your thoughts on that though.”

“Do you really?” Mark's smile was a challenge.

Kerrass grinned back.

“Anyway,” I said, “The combination.”

“Yes, the combination of the two.” Mark agreed and bent down to root around in a drawer in his desk producing several things that looked like empty cotton reels, a ball of wool and then, seemingly dissatisfied, added a couple of bits of stick and a paperweight. “Please forgive the crudeness of the demonstration but my teaching days are a little behind me now and my tools are back in Tretogor so this may go wrong.”

Kerrass and I watched, fascinated as Mark busied himself tying lengths of wool to the bobbins, the stone and the twigs. He worked quickly and efficiently, his fingers surprisingly nimble with the movements obviously much practised.

“Can you clear my desk please?”

Kerrass and I leapt to work carting notes and books to far corners of the room. When we came back Mark had tied all the threads together in the middle so that the pattern looked like a star only with many more arms.

*

as an example.

“So,” Mark began. This is what we call “The Web of life”.” He looked up at us again. “There is a reason why it's called “Web” so just bear that in mind. I should also add that this demonstration represents our “best guess” as to the way the world works. Study of the subject is problematic and you may see why. Now then each strand of string is a persons life where the bit in the middle is where you are born. Each of the weights” Mark pointed at the twigs, rock and bobbins, “represent the many powers that there are in the world. Some people might call them Gods. Some are simply “Powers”.”

He mused for a moment.

“The judges are still considering the difference between the two but that's a story for another time. Anyway, as exampled, the Holy Flame is probably one of these powers and a significant one to humans as it was one of the first ones to reveal itself to humanity upon landing. There is also Melitele, Veyopatis, the various Nature “Gods”, the sun God of the Nilfgaardians...”

“I thought that they deified their emperor,” I put in,

“Yes, don't they just.” Mark was grinning, clearly enjoying himself. “But where does that worship originate I wonder. That's another story though,”

“There are a lot of stories building up here,” Kerrass commented.

“Indeed, I'm trying to compress several years worth of theologic study into a short space and so I'm missing bits out.”

“Fair enough.”

“There is also the Elven Gods, I understand that the gnomes have Gods of their own. People worship their ancestors, the Skelligan gods... There is even argument that some virtues and vices are becoming Powers in their own right such as Greed, Ambition, Love and so on. We have nowhere near identified all of them. Some of them are “evil” and some are “Good,” Most are grey areas with their own drives. All these powers pull at the strands in various ways.”

Mark stared at the pattern, his lips moving before he started moving the “powers” around, seemingly at random. Every so often the strands would meet, cross and knot together but Mark paid no attention just kept on weaving. I didn't count but he was about his task a long time. Periodically he would also take a large pin and use it to anchor a knot or a thread. He kept going, even when strands of thread ran out it didn't seem to bother him at all. Instead I found myself wondering when he started sticking his tongue between his teeth when he was concentrating.

“Right,” he said after a while, standing back to admire his handiwork. “It's not the best version of this kind of demonstration. If you ever get the chance you should go to Tretogor seminary where they have a full 3 dimensional version of it, all the strands are multicoloured making them much easier to follow. It looks like an explosion and when you stand back it looks truly beautiful. The main problem is that we have no way of visualising time in our boring visual spectrum so it loses something. Anyway, in this version the centre is the point of origin. We call that birth although it also represents the past. I stress again that this is an oversimplification because where does life begin and all that.

“We know that Melitele is about fertility and the act of actually giving birth but is also about healing and it all gets very confusing and contradictory so anyway. This point is birth for now.”

He singled out a piece of string. “This is an individuals life that we have picked out for the purposes of this demonstration. Here is where he was born. His life coming from the knot of birth and if we follow the strand, each time he meets someone else his strand interacts with their strand causing a knot. Sometimes they interact multiple time in the cases of close friends, family or loved ones and other people they just meet them randomly in the street. Some people they don't interact with them at all.”

At each point that he referred to, he pointed to one of the knots that he had pinned down and I realised that his first seemingly random movements, were in fact entirely intentional.

“And then in the end, as we track the strand, this person reaches their end as the strand runs out in death. You see that?”

Kerrass and I nodded. Another moment of insight struck me then although I had always known it really. I had always thought of myself as being different than the rest of my family in that I was the one that rebelled and followed my own desires rather than the path that Father had laid out for me. In truth I had plenty in common with some of my siblings it was just that my parents had tried to force me into a certain path for which I was unsuited. I could imagine myself easily following a studious theological route such as Mark had taken or he following my academic route into the university. But I had forgotten the fact that he was also a good teacher.

“So if you take a step back from the whole it looks like a rather chaotic web. Do you see the similarity? There was an effort to try and refer to it as the tapestry of life because if you have enough strands and weave them together, from a distance enough it looks like an ordered tapestry but that doesn't take into account the extra dimensions of time, distance, numbers, locations and all of the other variables that can be taken into account in a persons life. If you look closely it's much more chaotic.”

“I'm beginning to see where the arguments come in,” said Kerrass. “It doesn't look much like a web to me as Spiders are a lot more ordered in my experience,”

“You are correct, but would you agree with my points so far?”

Kerrass nodded. I was too busy being fascinated.

“Spiders may seem chaotic to us but their more chaotic web patterns serve a purpose to them and as such I find I like the analogy. But anyway, staying on topic here...If we tug on the various “powers,” gently please, we find that our original string is manipulated.”

I was again reminded that a physical demonstration is always better than the theory.

“Even if we tug on those strings that, in theory, have no influence on the original string we can affect it. Do you see this?”

As a note to my readers. If you have trouble visualizing this then you can perform this experiment yourself with several lengths of string. You might not get such a perfect example as to what we were discussing but... Just try not to tie the knots so tight so that you can see the full range of movement.

“Now, the full demonstration grows more complex when you introduce strands with different widths and strengths which demonstrate the power and importance that a person may be born with, regardless of what you think of this person. But that doesn't have any relevance today. What I will say is that if you use any one power or strand to tug the overall web in one direction or another you get a particular result. If you'll just let me...”

Mark took the rock and gently started to pull on it and therefore the attached thread.

“Watch our original strand carefully.”

As we watched, our strand started to unravel from it's greater weaving and eventually, the end sprang free.

“If we pull on it for long enough.” My brother said a little smugly. “That happens. That person's life is no longer confined within the strands of the greater....” mark waved his hands expansively in the air, “Life and existence for want of a better word and he is flapping free, pulled in too many directions.”

He sat back down and pulled his chair over to the web.

“Now this brings us to the Lionheaded Spider and what she does. She is not a power and as such she doesn't or rather she shouldn't, have any influence on the greater web. Her job is to cut off the various exposed ends.”

Mark demonstrated by taking a knife and cutting our thread off.

“This is the other reason that we don't like the term “Tapestry” as that suggests the presence of a “weaver of the tapestry and as such, why would any being or power allow enemies of theirs to influence their creation.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Here is the nub of the matter. Calling the Lionheaded Spider the Goddess of death is a simplification. What she is, is the Goddess of necessary death. The theory goes like this. When the strand is tugged into too many directions and springs free, what happens in the real world is that the person goes mad or gets sick. It should end in old age when the Spiders arrival would often be seen as a mercy. But sometimes those powerful influences tug a person in so many directions that they go mad and become dangerous. This is what gives birth to psychopaths. Those men and women who are just so mad that you can't help them or cure them and to keep them around is actively dangerous for the safety of those surrounding them. Then the Lionheaded Spider turns her gaze upon them and they are killed.

“In an ideal world there would exist a shrine to the Lionheaded Spider in every community and there would be no offerings or worshippers but there would be one single priest or priestess. Practicalities would suggest that there might be an apprentice as well. The shrine should be maintained by the populace and the local authorities. The priest earns their keep by specialising in death. They bring the last solace to the suffering by comforting the dying and euthanizing where necessary but they also act as Executioner's when society demands it.”

“But this is not an ideal world,” Kerrass said after we both realised that Mark had stopped talking.

“No, more's the pity. Instead people decide to worship her as a Goddess of death. They pray to her to visit their enemies or they prey that they themselves might be visited to alleviate suffering. Children prey to her when their abusive parents beat them. Women pray to her when husbands abuse them. But then Assassins pray to her to bless their work and use her as an excuse for the evil that they commit. Executioners often pray to her and they are the only people who have a right to and should.”

“And we know that she has power because her priestesses are known to curse people,” I said, feeling that I needed to contribute something.

“Precisely which is why it's dangerous and why governments and people like me have taken the easy option by simply banning her worship rather than engaging people in long, complicated theological debates.”

“So the ankh means life,” I began, “And the Web means death? Sorry, necessary death. Surely they shouldn't be brought together, they are almost intentional opposites.”

“Exactly. That's why people who do this are so dangerous.”

“I don't follow.”

“It's the denial of the pattern, it's the denial of life, of death and everything that comes between.” Mark had become, if possible, more passionate. His face was red, he slammed his hands on the table and he was breathing rapidly. “Life and death, inverted and bound together in such a way, cancel each other out. They...corrupt each other. We don't know enough about death other than the fact that it involves some kind of “moving on”. To what, we don't know but we know that ghosts and spirits happen because of some form of unfinished business, am I right Kerrass?”

“You are. We also know that spirits can be corrupted but also cleansed depending on their mood, circumstances and physical situation. A colleague of mine was recently able to encourage a spirit to return back to her normal human state and then to move on so we also know that the process works both ways.”

“Yes, but these symbols represent the ultimate forms of such. If the Ankh which represents life in it's purest form is corrupted by “death” and the Web, corrupted by life into some unrecognisable form?” Mark shrugged an answer to his own question.

“Does it represent a power, or a God?”

“We don't know but we suspect not, given what is identified around the items but it is what it represents that worries us. Here's why the church is so against it. This web that I have demonstrated to you is the natural order of things. It's complex, varied, chaotic, terrifying and it applies to all living things on this continent and beyond. But this,” he gestured at the symbols. “Exists outside of that. It's the denial of the natural order. Perhaps I should state that the destruction of the natural order is our version of the end of the world. So an outside influence on it all is worrying, nay terrifying.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“We don't know but we think it's magic. This... This totem and the way it's worshipped represents a worship of magic. Magic can do... pretty much anything. We know it denies death as Magic users can live for centuries and Mages have talked about creating life and indeed have made progress in that direction by creating Golems and elementals.

“In worshipping this idol and it does take the form of worship. The followers deny the natural order. They do this in various ways but the most common form of this is a form of cannibalism and soul stealing. Their rites include horrible, horrible torture of young individuals as well as the consuming of their flesh. They believe that the torture convinces the souls to leave the body prematurely and by imbibing the flesh of the person then the soul will go to where it's familiar,”

“The flesh of the victim which has been consumed.”

“Especially as the rites tend to attract those people who enjoy such...debasements and therefore the new surroundings are a lot more attractive.”

“So cannibalism, mutilation, torture and rape as forms of worship.” I said shuddering. “Lovely.”

“Indeed.”

“Why do you connect these things with magic?” Kerrass asked. “All the Magic users that I've ever met would be equally as horrified.”

“Yes, well. What we've found is that the totems and relics that you've found are imbued with magical energy, presumably because magical talent happens in small ways sometimes. We think that those people, in performing these rites and rituals they eventually produce that power and makes it happen. In believing something they create it. It gets imbued and then they see magical results.

“We can argue about magic and the moral implications for years, ignoring the fact that someone who has narrowly survived the misuse of magic sits here amongst us,”

“Thank you,” Kerrass muttered dryly.

“But one thing that everyone agrees with is that magic came out of the conjunction of spheres.”

“Along with humanity.”

“Probably but we can't prove that.” Mark responded. “We do know that there was no magic before then as the dwarves and gnomes who definitely lived here before the conjunction tell us that that is the case. This means that although this pattern, which is what we think of as the natural order, existed before magic's arrival. Magic upsets that and tugs the pattern, violently, in all directions.”

Mark demonstrated and sure enough the pattern fell apart.

“Magic can do all of these things and more. That is why we find it so...terrifying. Along with the fact that many magic users do things because they can, long before they ever think about whether or not they should.”

We looked at each other for a moment.

“I feel like we got off topic again,” Kerrass said finally.

“Probably,” Mark agreed. “I tend to get.... passionate when magic comes up.”

“Yes, well, just to summarize. The idols represent life and death cancelling each other out and removing their worshippers from the natural order of birth life and death.”

“Yes.”

“The methods that they use involve torture and cannibalism.”

“Yes.”

“They are magically connected but we can't say why or definitively say how.”

“Ummm...”

“I should point out that the magic user that was present was as horrified at the artefacts as you were.”

“Really? Interesting.”

“That's one word for it.” I said helpfully.

“Does that answer all of your questions gentlemen?” Mark asked.

Kerrass and I looked at each other and chuckled.

“Not even close, but it's a good start.” Kerrass laughed. “We should ask though. Are you and your church soldiers up for some heretical smiting tomorrow evening? We could do with your advice and some professional church soldiers would be useful.

“We might? I have a question of my own now. What's happening and why would you need those same soldiers? I think I've been accommodating enough given that you blew my door down. How is Edmund involved in all of this and what does that have to do with anything.”

“It's not a great story. In fact I think it's rather sad.” said Kerrass. “But nevertheless it is dangerous and is close to being really evil.”

“Do continue.”

Kerrass frowned. “There are two players in the story so far. Those players being your father and your brother Edmund. We don't know in which order these things happened and as far as we know they happened independently.

“Edmund was unhappy. We know that he resented his home life, his parents, his family and indeed everyone concerned. His father put the weight of the entire family on his shoulders and he responded by lashing out. He was not as clever as he was supposed to be, not as strong or as pretty or as fast. He didn't have the mind for figures that Emma had, he wasn't as clever as Frederick or you are, he wasn't as strong as Samuel or as pretty as Francesca and even worse than that, no-one criticised him for that aloud despite his, to him, obvious failings. He just wanted to be left alone to enjoy himself.

“He fled home and fell in with a group of friends. He started to indulge in various vices, gambling, women, drugs, alcohol and all of these were a form of lashing out against his family and his surroundings. We can't identify those friends but we know it was happening. Gradually the crowd he associated with got worse and worse and their depravities got worse and worse and before Edmund had turned around he was in too deep and over his head.”

Mark just nodded frowning as he listened to Kerrass speak.

“At some point, and we don't know when, he was inducted into this “religion”. We believe that this induction was slow but at the time of the induction your brother was very angry. He believed that he was being hard done to and was being looked down on. He was impatient to take on his birthright and take on the responsibility and privilege of being the Baron von Coulthard while he was still young, vigorous and pretty enough to enjoy it. Then, given that your father showed no signs of wanting to retire or to do the decent thing of dropping dead and leaving Edmund to inherit, he fell in with a group of other rich, entitled people who felt the same. We believe that a priest of these idols, or a superior figure of some kind encouraged these feelings and fed on them inducting them all into the church. Then they would start preying on young people all over the countryside to slake the thirsts of their new religion.

“Now, we believe that this next thing happened independently. Your father was aware of a number of similar deaths happening in the countryside around Oxenfurt, including on his own lands. These deaths were always the same. Young, beautiful people would be kidnapped, horribly abused and mutilated sexually and physically over a period of days before the bodies of these poor unfortunates would be found, abandoned in out of the way places. The victim would often turn out to have been identified and tracked before hand as well by a third party before they were taken. Sometimes someone was caught, sometimes not, sometimes the body was found, sometimes not. We think that your father believed that it was some kind of circle of young nobles or entitled people who were rich enough to believe themselves above the law,”

“Which was largely true,” I put in,

“and who would then kidnap people who they believed were unimportant and then torture them for kicks, confident that they would get away with it.”

“Still, largely accurate.”

“Yes, but what your father missed was the religious or magical implications. Sometimes when, someone needed to be sacrificed then a member of the group would be thrown to the populace to keep them sweet and to keep eyes off the larger, overall group.”

Kerrass poured us all some wine and took a drink from his cup.

“So far the two stories act independently. At some point, and we don't know how or why, your father realised that Edmund was involved in the group that he was tracking. He spoke to Edmund and told him, rather bluntly, that he needed to cease these activities. We don't know if there was any threat attached to this order but we do know that Edmund felt that he was under threat of being disinherited.

“The group were, by now, treating Edmund as their cash cow. Whenever they needed money it was always Edmund who provided the money as your father was always willing to provide the cash when required. When he was threatened with this source of money being removed they started to cut him out. Before long he knew that he would be one of the members that would be thrown to justice when the group felt that they needed to divert attention away from themselves.

“He had another friend in the group and we don't know who this friend was. We hope to identify this person tomorrow night when the group intend to hold another rite but this is the figure that is the author of your families woes. He devised a scheme by which your father would die in an “accident” so that Edmund could inherit and therefore he would have access to all the money that they could ever need. The plan was implemented and resulted in the injury and eventual death of your father.”

Kerrass then went through how Edmund had interfered with Fathers horse gear causing the horse to throw it's rider injuring Father and how the injury was then poisoned to make it look as though the infection was spreading faster than it should.

“Unfortunately,” Kerrass went on, “The Stable-master had noticed the problem with the horse and the saddle and innocently brought it to the attention of your brother, presuming that your brother would inherit and therefore that he was now in charge. Your brother did not take this well and the Stable-master realised that Edmund was the perpetrator and fled.

“Edmund reacted badly, followed the stable-master and ran him through, also killing the poor man's wife when she tried to flee. Interestingly they might have got away with it too if they had simply fled at sight of him from which we can infer your brothers lack of physical conditioning.”

Mark finally reacted, shaking his head and was no longer able to meet Kerrass' gaze.

“The unknown person who had been encouraging Edmund on from the side lines realised Edmund's mistake and panicked. They then snuck into the castle, presumably under the guise of wanting to pay their respects or maybe because they had some kind of hold over other members of the castle or whatever, they got into the castle, found your brother and killed him to prevent any other repercussions falling on their heads.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Your brother told us.”

“Necromancy?”

“No no, Flame no,” I said, “Edmund kept a diary.”

“This is Freddie's bit and to be fair to him it is really impressive.” Kerrass said with a grin.

“When we finally managed to get into the bank to retrieve the contents of Edmund's safety box we found his diary inside. The beginning was fairly simple moaning about circumstances and family but then it changed into numbers.”

“A code?”

“Yes,”

“Frederick cracked it. Long story short otherwise his ego will inflate his head until he won't be able to leave the room, it was a book code.”

“Four numbers.” I said. “Page number, Chapter number, verse number and word number. That word was what he said.”

I saw my own realisation hit Mark between the eyes. “He was using the Litany of faith as his code book.”

“We found his only copy on his bedside. He had it next to him, hidden in plain sight.”

“Ok stop.” said Kerrass. “How do you two know so much about codes? I know Freddie saw coded messages in the war and would often help decode them but you your grace?”

“We all served in our own way.” Mark said with a grin.

“That was cryptic,”

“Now don't grumble Kerrass. Please continue.”

“That diary told us about future plans but the thing we're missing is names. He uses initials in the diary so that even if a third party decoded the diary then they wouldn't know who he was talking about. It seems that Edmund had realised that he was in danger and had started to keep the diary in earnest as evidence and record about the groups crimes to be used as a trade and blackmail device should they all be caught.”

Mark nodded.

“Poor Edmund,” he said.

“Poor Edmund?” Kerrass remarked. “ Your brother murdered your father and two members of your household. He has murdered, tortured and mutilated many young people and conspired to keep it from the proper authorities as well as doing things that give the rest of us magical people a bad name. Forgive me Your Grace but it rather seems that he got what was coming to him,”

Mark looked at Kerrass sadly. “You are probably right Witcher, But you don't remember playing with him as a boy.”

“No,” I said, “But I also remember him using a magnifying glass and the sun to fry a line of ants in the courtyard to upset Francesca.”

Mark nodded and his gaze sank. He looked old. Sick and old.

We talked long into the night. Lots of conversation and planning that I don't really need to go into here. The long and short of it was that we were organising a raid on the intended site of worship. The objective was that we wanted to pull the entire damn weed out to the very last of the roots so wherever possible we needed to take them alive. Especially the high priest.

Our forces came together that evening and one by one they joined us in what had become our war room. Our forces were not inconsiderable in training and expertise but at the same time we didn't know how numerous the enemy were going to be. On our side, we had already sent word and Sir Rickard and his men had returned from their patrol in the nearby countryside. By patrol we were led to understand that they had been patrolling the nearby inns and taverns most diligently and had found absolutely no enemies of the state. I was pleased to see them all as they arrived and saw to it that they were well fed and “watered”.

We also had Brother Mark's men, fifty trained soldiers of the church. Culturally it's an interesting thing that Church soldiers have almost become folk villains since the death of King Radovid. You can wander round various places and listening to the bards stories and epic poems and as you listen you can begin to see a pattern emerging. Whereas before the villains of these pieces tended to be spurned, abusive, conceited, rude lovers there has now been a subtle change that one of these additional character flaws there has been added the term 'church soldier'.

Well I am here to say that this is unfair.

Church soldiers are a lot like the rest of us in that they run the entire spectrum of morals and character from good to bad and they should be treated as such. I cannot deny that there were in their number, people who would have been better left out of them. The cruel fanatics and such who would burn and torture a person for simply using a herb to help ward off bad health, but they did so under royal encouragement and the promise of eternal bliss. You also have to bear in mind that these particular factions within the church, the questioners and the Witch-hunters and so on were at their most... aggressive around Novigrad and Oxenfurt where they were protected and encouraged by King Radovid. These places also being the largest concentration of poets and bards in the world which now spread tales of church soldiers raping and torturing good folk for implied Witchcraft to the entirety of the Northern Continent.

But I have to say that all of the church soldiers that I have met are reasonably good people. Certainly the ones protecting my brother fell into the category. They talked, laughed and grumbled along with the best of them and the only real differences between them and my Fathers guards was the need to gather and pray at particular and regular intervals.

So we had the church men which meant that we also had an Arch-Bishop on our side which was useful for his knowledge and experience.

The Oxenfurt watch were involved in the operation in as much as they would be keeping normal citizens away from the particular patch of land where the next rites were going to be held but it had been decided that the Watch wouldn't be involved in the actual raid itself. The argument made was that some of the Watch who, again, might be vulnerable to men of power ordering them to turn away and as such should not be put in a position where they might be forced to choose between their integrity, their duty and the threatened survival's of their family.

Sam and the guardsmen from the castle wanted to be involved as well but after much arguing it was decided that we could not prove that Edmund had not managed to corrupt any of the men to his cause and as such they were...vulnerable. The other problem was that if the castle emptied, spontaneously and without warning then this might give any potential watchers a clue as to our intentions.

We also had the Sorcerous power of the Lady Laurelen who was waiting for us in Oxenfurt itself.

We knew where the rites were being held as well which was fortuitous. Brother Edmund had shown that he wasn't entirely that stupid when he had realised that he was potentially under the axe. He had dates, times and locations of any and all future meetings. It was kind of frustrating to read his diary as he told us so much else but missed out names referring to people according to initials or nicknames or code-names or names that he made up on the fly in an effort to remember specific people but it did mean that we had been able to scout the location carefully well in advance as we set to our plan.

It was absolutely vital that we capture as many of the people involved as we could. Preferably alive but dead if necessary due to not knowing who else might be involved and that was the basis of our plan. In the end we agreed that Sir Rickard's men would be the scouts on site. They would be hidden around the place in pairs waiting for all the cultists to arrive. When it was clear that no-one else was going to turn up, one half of every pair would then return to a separate staging area where the church soldiers and Laurelen would be waiting. Those soldiers would then be led to the various places where they would need to be to prevent a massed break out.

This was going to be the tricky bit as there was a danger that if any unit got lost or made a noise then that could alert the cultists and they could escape.

Laurelen and Mark would be set back from the site so that she could work her magic to make sure that the cultists couldn't hurt any of us, even in their ignorance at the power that they were wielding and Mark might be needed to decipher or offer advice on what we found.

The signal to begin the attack would be given by Kerrass who would be stationed with Sir Rickard's men and I, unhappily, would come up with the rest of the soldiers. There was some concern that I might lose my temper and start shouting when I saw innocents being tortured or held against their will.

Funny that.

It was an unfortunate truth that we didn't know when the cultists might start torturing captives. They might, and it puts my teeth on edge just writing this, start casually raping the women while they were waiting for the rest of their fellows to arrive and it was felt that I wouldn't be able to contain myself watching this.

They were probably correct and I don't feel at all ashamed although I am ashamed that a decision was made that the well being of any captives was put secondary to the potential future of any other captives.

I know why and on an intellectual level I can understand why sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few but at the same time I imagine myself having to go to the parents or the significant others of the captives and saying. “Sorry we didn't stop your mother/sister/daughter/wife from being horribly raped to death but we were trying to catch everyone involved.”

I guess I just have a hangup about these kinds of things.

Which, a couple of people have since suggested, is no bad thing.

Mark and I had a very public and a very loud argument where I called him a lot of things and he called me a lot of things and so he, and all of his men left in a cloud of dust in the early morning in an effort to throw anyone who was watching off our sent. They would travel East towards Tretogor for a while before doubling back and making their way to the staging area under the guidance of a couple of Sir Rickard's men who were used to moving through the countryside without being seen.

Kerrass and I rode gently back towards Oxenfurt where we met Laurelen and Emma for an evening meal before picking up Shani as she would be acting as a medic for the night. I had to hide a certain hilarity as the female medic spent some time looking at the Sir Rickard with a certain calculating expression. When I mentioned this to Emma later she grinned and told me to leave it with her. Time will tell what happens there although if Emma does manage to get the two of them together then Sir Rickard will be breaking hearts all over Oxenfurt, including mine a little bit.

We spoke genuinely and affably until it was time to leave. We met Mark and his men, none the worse for wear despite having to march through countryside with Mark having a nap leant up against a tree. There was a small moment where there was a discussion as to how we would be protecting Mark, Shani, Emma and Laurelen (Emma had refused to be parted from her girlfriend). In the end Sir Rickard chose two of his most villainous looking men to do the protecting and two of Mark's guards insisted on staying behind. Everyone was a little perturbed when Sir Rickard's two men appeared to vanish into the trees.

“Do those men have any experience in protecting people?” Mark asked, a little worried.

“Quite the opposite actually,” Rickard said, beaming from ear to ear.

“What do you mean?”

“Those two men are trained assassins.”

Mark had to be slapped, soundly on his back to help him with the choking.

Kerrass went off into the trees with the rest of Sir Rickard's men.

Then it was time to wait.

I hate waiting, but this time there was a bit more entertainment to it. That entertainment was being able to watch what Mark, Emma and Laurelen got up to while they were also counting the minutes.

My routine is fairly simple. Check my equipment, make sure my spear and dagger are as sharp as I can reasonably expect. (I had it done at a blacksmith in Oxenfurt earlier that day) and make sure that my light armour doesn't restrict my movement in any way. Then I warm up a bit with some stretches before settling down to consider what I'm going to talk about in future versions of these notes.

Mark was both the most entertaining but also the most heart-breaking. He took the time to have a nice long prayer but then he spent the rest of his time ignoring Emma and Laurelen being all coupley. They had interacted earlier in that Mark had issued a full and, to be fair to him, enthusiastic written pardon for Laurelen's use of Sorcery in the protection of the realm from dark magics. They had also discussed collaborating on some kind of treatise that could be passed around churches and Sorcerous academies as to how Sorcery can be used to help protect against dark cults. Mark had also spoken easily with Emma as well but whenever Emma and Laurelen interacted with each other, be that holding hands, talking quietly together with their heads bent in conversation, hugging or just sat against a tree enjoying being together, Mark couldn't look at them. It was as though his brain just refused to admit that the two women existed in the same space, as though he saw it, his brain said “No that can't possibly be true,” and then erased it from his memory. It would have been funny if it wasn't so tragic.

For their part, Emma and Laurelen didn't seem to notice. The existence of their affair was now public knowledge and so they didn't see the point in hiding it any more (More power to them). They were revelling in it but it was also quite sweet. There is nothing quite like the sight of your older sister who is a good six years older than me shyly holding the hand of another person to make you giggle in memory at all the times that she had teased you.

Shani spent the time putting together what she called her “Medic pack,” You might imagine some kind of back pack like soldiers carry but this was different. She had a portable operating table that she carried on her back and used it as a frame for everything else. Her “tools” which included a collapsible fire-bowl and several potion bottles as well as the saws and knives necessary to her trade were then strapped to the back of the table. I had tried lifting it up myself and had struggled all the while Shani had carried it easily from Oxenfurt.

On foot.

While Jogging.

Heaven help Sir Rickard if she decides to set her sights on him.

As darkness fell though I saw the nerves begin to show in the others. The soldiers all did their thing though in the same routine that soldiers have developed since the first war when men organised together to go and fight those other men. Mostly, they slept. Then as time passed they started on the small things. The jokes started to creep in as some men were told not to where their helmets during the fight so that their faces could scare the enemy. They scoured armour and inspected it on the minutest scale looking for patches of rust or broken, worn links in the chain where the armour may weaken and allow the wrong kind of blow to come through.

Mark sat next to me as I was half watching, half dozing the time away while at the same time, reminding myself that my spear wasn't going to be any the less sharp since the last time I had checked it ten minutes ago. It was a well made spear, it could hold it's edge and hardly needed any maintaining but I could still feel the ache in my fingers, longing to do something.

“Is it always like this?”

I looked at Mark sidelong who had woken up a little earlier.

“Is what always like this?”

“The waiting?”

I laughed at him, well, chuckled is possibly the better word.

“The first time I was sat somewhere waiting for a fight to happen I wet myself in terror.” I said helpfully.

“I notice that you didn't mention that in your written account of the event.”

“No, but then it was a while ago that I wrote that and I was still worried about my personal image.”

“Do you not worry about that any more?”

I thought about it.

“A little I suppose. The things that I worried about at the time seem a little bit more... superficial now. At the time I wanted the respect and love of Dad. I wanted to be someone who walks by and people look up and say, “see him, That's Frederick the scholar, he's really wise.” I also wanted to be more attractive to girls so writing that you pissed yourself in terror doesn't seem like the right thing to say when it comes to attracting the fairer sex.”

“You know that Father did love and respect you right?”

I felt that swell of anger and grief again and hung my head until it passed.

“Yeah I know.” I threw a small bit of twig away, “Would it have hurt the bastard to tell me that aloud a couple of times though?”

Mark had nothing to say to that.

“So how did you get on with the rest of your goals?” he asked.

I looked at him to see if he was joking. I think he was, at least a little bit.

“Well, by accident it seems I'm now the university expert on Witchers. Whenever I'm anywhere near the place they talk about Witchers like “Those Witcher people of Freddie's,” or when they talk to me they say, “That Witcher of yours Freddie,” as though I own him. As though I know the first thing about Witchers that they haven't told me themselves.”

Mark chuckled.

“Also,” I continued, “I suspect that the reason I'm not considered an expert in monsters is due to two things, the first is that I keep telling them that the term “monster” is incredibly racist and misleading given that, by some margin, the most monstrous things that I have met during my travels have been humanity. The second thing is that I'm not in residence and therefore unable to tell them all how wrong they all are on a regular basis.”

“Is that why they keep sending you out on the road so that you don't have time to settle down and write a book on the subject.”

“I suspect that's a significant part of the reason. Although my publisher has agreed that a good number of my essays on a couple of creatures that they have are going to be compiled into a textbook. I wonder if it'll look anything like what I actually wrote when the editors are all done with it.”

“It's a common problem.”

We sat in silence for a while.

“I don't know how you stand it.” He muttered after a while.

“Stand what?”

“This, this life of yours, these challenges to your world view, this, sleeping on the road or in taverns this... this....”

“Waiting?”

“Yes, but....”

“Wait, is this about Emma and Laurelen?” I had followed his gaze and realised that he was watching them.

He couldn't meet my gaze.

“Holy crap!” I giggled, “It is isn't it?”

“Don't blaspheme.”

“Don't make this about me. What is it about them that you don't like?”

“It's.... Flame curse me for not giving me the words it's just... Flame, it turns my stomach and I don't understand, I don't...get why it doesn't turn yours and I don't know why it turns mine.”

I swallowed my anger again. My brother was in distress.

“Forgive me Mark but, I've seen more of the world than you have. You've been inside the church since you were what, five? Living and reading the scriptures and catechisms and psalms and hymns. You didn't go to university or to travel so that your horizons could broaden themselves. You've never been drunk and woken up to a partner that you don't remember their name, let alone what you did.”

Mark's expression changed to horrified curiosity.

“Have you?” he petered off.

“Have I ever... what?”

“Have you ever, you know....” He blew out his breath with a sigh as he realised that I wasn't going to help him. “Have you ever been with a man?”

It's a brothers lot to tease their siblings but I decided that now was not really the right time.