Chapter 49: That's it Freddie. That's the entire story (2)

I remembered that in that moment, as the bandits attacked I had been brooding on the plight of the Sleeping Beauty. I had been turning those events over and over in my mind, thinking about what I could have done and what I should have done. As I put my mind to it then I realised that I had been thinking about these problems for some time and it had been that that had been distracting me from my overall activities. It was clear that I had to do something but I didn't have the first idea what to do.

What I wanted to do was clear. I wanted to take everyone that was responsible for the horrid things that had been done to her and torture them horribly so that their screams could carry through to whatever realm that she existed in now and she would be able to follow those screams back to the waking world where she would see what I had done for her and forgive me for my own crimes before kissing my worries away. That was what I wanted to do but I was not so naïve to think that she would actually appreciate that and I could easily recognise if for the day-dream that it was. It was just that to see her is to love her and there was a small part of me that hoped that she would love me back.

The other thing was that as a Witcher, my course was clear. Climb aboard my horse and ride on to the next task, the next hunt and put all thoughts about that sleeping girl behind me. I had been trying to do that for a year and it hadn't worked. It was clear to me now that if I tried to follow that course of action then sooner or later I would make one mistake too many and it would cost me my life leaving me with five, maybe six years on the path to show for all of that. I was not enamoured of this plan.

In the end I decided that Justice needed to be served. Some might call it vengeance and I saw that I was also guilty. If I delivered justice or vengeance on those other men then surely the first person I should kill would be myself. For my crime was to allow the crime to take place without doing anything.

I needed guidance.

I remembered the guards offer of a reward, collected my belongings and walked into town. The town was grateful for my disposal of the bandits and my reward came in the shape of a new horse as well as some money. From that money I took what I estimated to be funds for a ship to carry me quickly back south and supplies for the road. I still had some funds left from the previous hunt so I wasn't that concerned for money. You have to understand that the monster hunting game wasn't like it was now. Now you have to go looking for the monsters. You have to find them and then see if there's anyone who wants to pay you for getting rid of the monster. Then you could be confident that you ride for a day and find a contract on the road.

I took the purse that I was given and spent a good long time looking at it. A third of it went on the travelling expenses. I took the rest and split it in two. One of those thirds went into the donation box for the local church who did good work looking after the sick and cared for the cripples from the regular skirmishes that happened. I rode back to the farm and gave the rest of the reward back to a clearly astonished farmer's wife. I remember that she asked why as they had clearly written off the expense and they weren't that concerned as her sons were still smoking up the horse meat that they had taken from my horse.

I told her that I didn't deserve it and rode away before she could ask too many questions or she could call for her husband. I didn't want gratitude. I wanted.... I wanted to be condemned. Fortunately I knew exactly where I had to go for that. I rode north to the Yaruga and caught a barge to the river mouth where I caught a ship bound south. I hired on as a guard for a merchant's caravan as it provided me with camouflage enough that I could travel incognito. I didn't want anyone to know that I had come back south. For a long time I rode with my sword strapped to my horse rather than to my back so that people had to come up close to tell that I was a Witcher. I kept my medallion under my shirt.

It was raining when I came back here. I remember that distinctly because a lot of people were still indoors. The guards back then, as they still are really are there to catch travellers who have wandered off by mistake and get caught in the magical effect. At the time they were still using men for this job rather than needing all the men at the wall of thorns and as such they tended to be large men and easily spotted. I dodged them with ease. I found the cottage that I was after. Checked to make sure that there was only one occupant and knocked on the door.

“Come in,”

I waited and knocked again.

“The latch is off. Come on in.” The voice said again.

I sighed and knocked a third time.

A sigh of feminine exasperation came through the door and it opened.

“Hello Rose.” I said quietly.

My former companion's hand came up to her mouth in shock as she stared at me.

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“I didn't want to just barge in.” I went on quietly. “I thought that things might get out of hand if I came in unannounced and...”

She slapped me. Hard.

I'd seen it coming of course but she deserved that one and I deserved much worse.

“How dare you?” she whispered. “How dare you come back here after everything that you did. You and that...that... excuse for a prince.”

I held my hand up to halt the flow of words.

“I know Rose I know and you aren't saying anything that I haven't thought myself. I am guilty and I deserve your hatred. I won't stay long but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Why? No you can't come in. You can damn well stay out there in the cold. It's not as if you can catch a chill. Oh hang it all. Give me your cloak and warm yourself up.”

I liked Rose. She was a large woman with a big smile and a big heart. She hurt, laughed, loved and hated with equal passion. I don't understand your (Frederick: my) obsession with slim women. I like women with a bit of Oomph to them and Rose certainly fit all of those requirement. I think of her whenever I come back here and I miss her still, doing my best to lay some flowers near her grave.

For all that she wanted me gone as quickly as possible, Rose spent plenty of time looking after me. She hung my cloak to dry, put my boots next to the fire and stood over me impatiently until I'd changed into dry clothing. She also put her own cloak on to stable my horse without letting me do it and cooked us something to eat before finally asking me why I had come back.

“I had two reasons Rose. They're simple reasons really. You've already dealt with one of them.” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

“You could have told a girl that you came back to see her Kerrass.”

“I came to your house Rose before anyone else's.”

“Because you thought that I wouldn't kill you.”

“No. Because of all people. You were the one who I cared about.”

She took that in silence.

“What were your reasons Kerrass?”

“You all knew didn't you?”

Her mouth hung open in astonishment.

“Of course we knew. How could we not? We're her people Kerrass, of course we knew. Leaving aside the horrible dreams and the actions of our men folk. Goddess Kerrass (they still paid lip-service to the Southern version of Melitele down there in those days before the deification of the Nilfgaardian Empire started to take over.) Did you think we would not know?”

I stayed quiet. Her eyes were blazing then with a fury and a remembrance of pain. I wasn't at all certain that she wouldn't try to kill me then and I wouldn't have stopped her.

“The Dragon roared. That was the first sign that something was wrong. The Dragon roared, sending a huge spout of flame up into the sky. It started skimming the treetops setting fire to the trees and the thorns as it circled up higher and higher before it plummeted down to earth. Then there was a wave of anger. This torrent of red rage that swept through our women folk. I don't know how to describe it but I was so angry. So angry that I couldn't speak or think. I took up a knife and went out into the village looking for blood. I was one of the lucky ones though as I didn't find anyone. One of the few.

“All of us went out into the streets. There have never been that many of us Kerrass and we suffered that night. Twelve men died. There were sixty eight of us then, in total. Twelve men died. Two men at their own hands. Three of them were boys no older than fourteen. We hunted them in groups as they fled. At first they tried to restrain us but it was no good. Our hate and the violence was so much that it even overcame the strength of a woman's love for her husband.

“We cut their balls off and left them to bleed to death Kerrass.”

I nodded. What do you say to a revelation like that. This idyllic little village converted to a place of horror. I could well imagine the women of the village rushing through town like a tide with screams of horrible anger. The fear of the men as they fled before the women that they loved. Or died screaming at their hands.

“I was one of the lucky ones Kerrass. Of course we knew. How could we not?”

I nodded when I realised that she wasn't going to say any more and finished my stew.

“I will leave in the morning.” I said after I had finished and cleared away the remains of the meal. Rose had sat staring at the fire after she had finished speaking and I hadn't wanted to disturb her from whatever train of thought that she was having. “I'll sleep in the stable or if you prefer I can go out into the woods and make a camp-site. The rain doesn't bother me too much.”

“Do you need any supplies?”

“No. I'm well stocked.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to do what I should have done at the time. I'm going to kill them Rose. I think I stand a bit more of a chance of actually surviving now though as I can take them at the time of my choosing. Will you do something for me?”

Rose nodded.

“I'm not a Witcher in this. I would also be kidding myself if I tried to tell myself that I was doing this for her. I'm doing this because it needs doing and because I want to do it. I need to do it. Will you keep my silver sword, medallion and potion equipment for me?”

“I will. What should I do with it if you don't come back?”

“Bury it. Give it a year though. This might take some time but if I don't come back pour the potion's into your cess-pit and bury the sword and medallion carefully. Someone will find it someday. Those things tend not to stay lost.”

She nodded again. “You haven't said sorry.”

“No,” I said quietly.

“Why not?” I don't know if she was curious, angry or hurt then.

“I don't owe you an apology. On the day that she wakes up then I will be there if I'm still alive. If I'm not there then as soon as I hear about it I will turn my horse and go to her as fast as I can. I will tell her what happened and I will apologise to her. Then, if she wants my life in payment, she has only to ask for it and I shall fall on my sword then.”

“But what of the harm you did to us?”

I was surprised at the anger I felt then.

“You knew Rose. What was it you said? “Of course we knew” you said. “How could we not?” Yet you did nothing. She is your Queen. Your Goddess it might be said and yet you took no steps to protect her from us. I didn't know what was going to happen but you knew of the possibility. In fact, having seen the effect that she had on those men. At least one of whom was a happy family man. I would be stunned if this hasn't happened before. Why is she not guarded? Why is she not hidden? We found her after half a days searching. Ok the spell moves with her and you don't want to harm others. Are there not caves? Hollows? Hidden secret places? We found her because she was in the castle. You even gave us a map to that castle. All you had to do was carry her casket into one of the outer buildings and we would never have found her. You did not warn us about the affect that she can have on the male mind, or the female mind for that matter.

“Then after the event took place. After those men came and... used her for I did not and I swear that I will kill anyone who suggests that I would. After you knew what had happened. Why were we not met with a hail of arrows? You have excuses certainly. Not wanting to anger neighbouring Kingdoms. Fair enough. But fill the Prince full of arrows, steal and bury his treasure and then dump him or bury him some way off and claim ignorance.

“But you did nothing. Absolutely nothing against the world's most predictable crime. You do not deserve my apology.”

“Get out.” She hissed.

I nodded, collected my cloak and walked back into the rain.

I didn't sleep well that night but I was by no means alone. In the morning Rose came out to me in the same clothes as the evening before with some eggs, bacon and some toast that she had made and insisted that I eat. Then she took my sword, medallion and potion box as I climbed back aboard my horse.

“Kerrass?”

I turned back to look at her.

“Kill them quickly Kerrass. She would not want them to suffer in her name. She is better than we are.”

I nodded and rode back down the hill.

I had made my mind up and I was going to kill the people responsible. The first time I took a step off the path and now I was an assassin. But I didn't want to be an assassin. I preferred to think of myself as an executioner so as I rode carefully off towards Duke Bertrand's lands, carefully so I could avoid attention, I had to decide just how I was going to do it and in what order. It would be easy enough to sneak into places and just slit their throats while they slept. Or poison their food or similar. The other problem was that I didn't want to just kill anyone. I could poison the well at castle Bertrand but that would probably kill lots of other people who were....circumstantial to the crime. I needed to kill those men that came with me. If someone went out of their way to stand between me and my target then they were fair game. I spent a couple of days, living off the land as I considered my methods and how I was going to set about this.

There was also the problem that I was as guilty as they were. I had condemned Rose in the village with harsh words and I had meant every single one of them. But if I was tarring everyone with the same brush then I deserved punishment as well. At one point I tried to defend myself with the argument that I was attempting to make it right but I decided that I was deluding myself. The Princess had been blessed, or cursed, with “goodness” and as such she would not condone these actions. I was doing this for my own benefit. To make me feel better about what had happened.

In the end I decided that there had to be some kind of trial. It was a sham of course, I was not that self-delusional but I thought that....The local area had a tradition of trial by combat. It's based on a simple matter. Two men enter an arena with a choice of weapons. The survivor or the surviving champion has the right of the matter as the Gods have been seen to choose who was right. It's a lot less prevalent now as increasingly the crime is brought before the feudal lord who pronounces judgement. The newer method is still open to corruption and I heard of more than one person taking the trial by combat because they knew that a death in an arena was often cleaner than starvation, crucifixion, impalement, hanging or any of the other inventive ways that a man can be executed.

So I would challenge each man to a duel. If the target agreed to a one on one fight then I would fight them fair. No signs, no potions. Just my sword against their weapons.

If they cheated, fled or if they turned up with friends and an effort to mistreat the affair. Then anything was game.

I wanted the Prince to be last. As the instigator of the entire thing I wanted him to suffer a little. It made sense that he would know what was happening and I thought that the knowledge that I was coming for him would be an extra punishment. Regardless of whether or not I failed.

I also took to praying. Not to Melitele or the sun god of the south. Not even to one of the Northern gods of my childhood. Instead I started talking to her. I tried to explain my actions and to set them out in detail with explanations, reasons and so on. Sometimes I pleaded for forgiveness, sometimes I spoke about the future, the past and what I hoped for.

Mostly though I just begged for forgiveness.

My first target was going to be Erick. There were several reasons for this. The fact that his home was outside of the castle so I wouldn't need to infiltrate the castle. There was also the fact that he wasn't military so he wouldn't have the excuse of “I was just following orders”. But most of all, I just wanted to. I remembered his large face, pale and sweaty as he asked whether he could have a turn with the princess. He didn't just *** the Princess, he **** her in the most unspeakable ways, the most degrading ways. He commented that he wanted to destroy, to degrade something beautiful.

I wanted him dead.

But I didn't want to rush in. Even though I felt such rage I reasoned that if I went in, murdered him because it was murder whether it was a duel or not, then everyone would know that some stranger with yellow eyes had come in and asked questions about where he lived and then, any future plans would be made more difficult.

I scouted first. I found my targets, other than one but I will get to him in a moment.

But the first target was Erick the hunter. He was not hard to find.

In the year or so since we had descended into the Valley of Thorns, Erick had taken to drink. He hadn't mentioned it during our journey but he had actually been a married man with two young children. When he came back, his wife commented that he had seemed changed in some way. As though he was dissatisfied in all the little things. Whereas before he had enjoyed the simple life that he and his family had built up for themselves with him acting as huntsman to the Duke. They liked the fact that they had the prestige that they did but weren't forced to live “up at the castle” with “All the airs and graces” that come with living in that atmosphere. He had not been a great husband and had been more than a little bit of an absent father. Often going away for long distances on the Duke's business, scaring up game or guiding one of the Duke's many hunts. But he always came back with some kind of gift for the children as well as a kind word or two.

That changed when he came back from our mission. He had taken to drink and had started to find fault with everything that his wife did. She told me about several instances where he would explode into violent rages at the slightest provocation and about how the children had started to hide from him. She asked him what was wrong several times and he claimed that there was nothing wrong but it was clear that he was no longer satisfied with what he had.

He started to ask her to...do things in their marital bed. One time it went to far and that was the first time he hit her. It was not the last, nor were her children immune from his attentions

I won't repeat a lot of the things that I found out about Erick over the course of those few days. None of it was pleasant. I remember feeling guilty for having liked the man during our journey out there. I felt awful at the fact that I had smiled at his jokes and wondered if that made me a bad person.

In the end, his wife took the children and ran back to her mothers house. Not because she was afraid for herself but because she was afraid for her children. The eldest of which was eleven and had long blonde hair. She had caught her husband looking at their daughter in a way that made her uncomfortable so she packed a few belongings and fled as soon as he fell into a drunken stupor. Her father was a retired veteran of the Duke's guard and in the way of parents, had suspected that something was wrong for some time. When Erick finally appeared, drunk and abusive the father heard him out and chased him out of the village, reporting the crime to the Duke's court. The ruling was that she couldn't divorce her husband but as Erick's drunkenness had caused some other problems it was decreed that she, and her children could stay with her parents until such a time as Erick proved that he was capable of taking care of his family.

He had not, soon losing his job with the Duke due to drunken behaviour.

So yes I found him. He was still living in his original family cottage out on the outskirts of town. It was about ten minutes walk from the town that lived, worked and supplied both the Duke's castle and those people that came to visit the Duke. There is a path that goes from the back of the mill, down through some trees. It skirts a long the bank of the stream for a short way and then fords the stream to a clearing. It's actually a nice place all things considered. Near the house was a large tree from which hung a swing. It was easy to imagine that there had once been a happy family living here.

Off to one side there was a large stone lined hole that was clearly used as a fire pit for cooking of food and providing warmth while working outside. There were several seats there with empty bottles and cups that showed signs of having been there for years. Racks for the curing of hides, piles of tusks and antlers, some of which showed signs of being worked to turn into tools and ornaments. Inside the home had a nice large hearth, toasting and cooking tools nearby, stew pot and large kettle hanging from iron fixtures that had been long set in the ground.

But it was decaying as well. Showing signs of neglect and misuse. One of the corners of the house had a stench that was overpowering from where Erick had been relieving himself the night. The hearth was long cold and I don't think it had been lit for some times. What supplies there were were old, rotting and not in nearly enough quantity for the season.

There was a hole in the roof and one of the ropes in the swing was frayed and coming apart to the point that I didn't think it would support a child's weight and certainly didn't want to test it myself.

I found the entire situation incredibly depressing.

I carved my message into the wall with a knife and drove a hatchet in after it so that the message couldn't be missed. I knew that Erick could read so I had no doubt that it would be found.

“I am outside. I will be waiting and watching. Come out and face me when you are ready.”

I had thought about that message for some time, getting the words just right and in the right order.

He had left earlier that day and was in the town drowning his sorrows. I had watched from a distance, pretending to look at some goods in one of the market stall as he relieved himself in an alley and threw his arm around an acquaintance before steering the poor man into the tavern in an obvious effort to get the man to buy him a drink.

He was in his “cheerful drunk” state which meant that he would be the life and soul of the party for a couple of hours. Then he would start to get morose and aggressive before the innkeeper threw him out. Then his pattern was that he would stagger over to the house where his wife now lived and shout at the building for a while until some guards were called and he would be seen off. The only question then would be whether he would make it home or collapse asleep under a bush.

I waited until he was well surrounded by “friends” before I left. It had been some time since I had seen him and although it was true that his circumstances had become pitiable in the extreme. Whenever I saw him, all I could see was his fat, pale and sweating face as he asked if he could have a turn with the Princess before licking his lips.

The easiest way to hide myself in a crowd is to not wear my sword on my back. In such times, especially in towns where fighting distances are so small, I often carry a large knife to defend myself. I left then, retrieved my sword from my hiding place, scratched my message and settled down to wait where I could see the cottage door as well as the air opening in the back. I was not convinced that he would stand and fight and thought that it would depend on how much he had to drink. I definitely wanted to fight the man and if he fought, I absolutely intended to honour my promise and kill him quickly but if he ran... then I could do what I wanted.

In the end he came home fairly early for him. He was singing some kind of ballad that was remarkably on key about lost love. A large bottle swung from one hand which I took to mean that someone had bribed him to leave with a bottle.

It took an astonishing amount of time for him to walk across the clearing to his home. Several times I thought he was going to stop and be sick but he managed to swallow down whatever was wrong with him and manage to struggle on. He opened the door and staggered through. From my hiding point I thought I could hear the crash as he fell headlong into his stinking bed.

I settled down to wait.

Waiting is an art form really. It's a skill that must be practices if you get it right. One of Freddie's (Oops, still no reaction) earliest adventures talked about his waiting in a forest for the proper timing of setting off some bombs to destroy a nekker nest. He is right in that many ways it is the worst part of the whole experience of hunting monsters. That and the aftermath where the potions start to leave your body, leaving the excess adrenaline, endorphins and hormones behind which express themselves in shivers shudders and spasms of varying sizes. You must wait, still and quiet. Minimising your noise and disturbance of the surrounding area. Even breathing while you do this is dangerous for some monsters can feel the differences in the movement of air through the fine hairs that some of them have covering their bodies.

But.

You must also remain limber. You cannot allow anything to distract you from what you are doing next. The next thing that happens. The monster could wake up and start moving and your limbs and body must be ready to move at a moments notice without cramps.

There are several tricks. One is to clench and relax each muscle in turn in order to keep them relaxed and supple. This also helps pass the time.

Another is the use of Witcher potions, but again, I had deliberately denied myself that luxury. So there I was. Already plotting this man's death.

I forced myself to wait. Something that I had been so good at over the, now, five or so years that I had been on the road but that time it was a struggle, the blood-lust scrabbling at my throat and sanity.

He came out in the early hours of the morning.

“You want me?” He bellowed. “Come out where I can see you, you pox-bellied son of a whore.” He was carrying a long knife or short sword, broad bladed and nasty looking. In the other hand he carried a similar lengthed axe, small headed and vicious. He clashed the two together.

“Come out. You tired of me being a drag on the “family name””. He laughed.

I stepped out into view.

“Witcher?” He looked surprised and then laughed again. He almost didn't look like the same man. His eyes were blood shot and wild. Hair unkempt and now that I could see him up close his skin looked sallow and unpleasant. I found myself thinking that I was lucky to have caught him as in my estimation he was on the verge of drinking himself to death.

“Who did you think it was going to be?” I said as I drew my sword, tossing the scabbard out of the way under the tree's.

“Honestly? Anyone but you. Probably my father in law. What did I do to offend you?”

“You know what you did.”

He peered at me for a long moment.

“By the Goddess' perfect tits. You're as bad as the Prince and that Gottfried fellow. You actually fell for her didn't you?”

I didn't respond but took up a fighting stance.

“Dripping Cunt of the Goddess. She was just a thing Witcher. An object, a...a toy for our pleasure and our eyes to feast on. Life-like as all hell and by the Goddess I promise you it felt real enough but no-one could have slept through what we did to her.”

“I bet you're a real hit with the ladies Erick. Is that how you proposed marriage to your wife. Did you call her an object? A toy for your pleasure?”

Erick roared and I realised I had misjudged him. He was mad now. Not angry although that might have been part of it but he had taken complete leave of his senses.

I had also forgotten how fast he was.

He charged me.

A wise fighter once said that the best swordsman in the world isn't afraid of the second best swordsman. Rather he is afraid of the worst swordsman as they can and will try anything to win, including the thing that you would never think of. I nearly lost my life that day. Not because I was a worse fighter than he was but because I nearly over thought what was happening. He ran straight towards me and I saw no sign of defence. No sign of a move or a thought. I spent so much time looking for a play, a feint or some other kind of ploy that he was nearly on me before I thought about what I had to do.

I stuck out my sword and Erick fairly ran on to it.

As it was he nearly had me because the other thing that he hadn't lost was his incredible strength. He ran onto the sword, impaling himself on it and even then he nearly made it up the entire length of the sword and was in range of taking my head of with his axe before I realised what was happening and let go of my sword hilt, pushing him off balance. He tumbled and fell onto his side.

I stood there looking down at him. It hadn't been my victory but I felt absurdly pleased as I realised how close I was to death.

“Well that's that.” he wheezed. “Heh.” He struggled to sit up for a moment. “Goddess that hurts.”

“That's what happens when you run onto someone else's sword.” I said after looking at him for a long moment. After some consideration I pushed over one of the tree stumps that had been used for a seat around the fire pit. I was careful to stay out of arms reach of him though.

“I suppose there's some truth to that.”

“Was that your idea of a noble suicide?” I asked as he levered himself up to a sitting position.

“Nah,” he said. “Pull this thing out Witcher?” he gestured at the sword that was still stuck in his belly.

I pulled the sword out. It took a lot of effort as I hadn't had time to twist properly as he ran onto it so the suction was tremendous. The blood that came out of him was black and foul.

He groaned as I did it.

“No, it wasn't suicide,” he said after a moment to get his breath back. “That would have meant that I had given some thought to the whole thing but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't...”

“Relieved?”

“Yes that's it. Relieved that it was all over.”

“What happened Erick. You were a good man once. Your family loved you.”

“I've thought about that I really have. But once I'd seen her. Really seen what true beauty looked like. The rest of the world just looked so...so dull.” He stared into space for a long moment until I thought he was dead but he wasn't done yet. “I started to look for her you know? I tried with other women, with my wife, with the drink and thank God that my wife took our children away before they disappointed me or even worse...”

“They're safe now.” I was struggling with this. I felt sympathy for this man now and it left my vengeance feeling empty.

“Help a man out Witcher. I've got a pipe somewhere.” He tried patting his pockets as though he was looking for something.

“No,” I said. “Your other hand is still holding a knife. You mean to get me close enough and then stab me with it.”

“True, one last service to my Prince.”

“Did he go back?”

“I think so. Bastard wouldn't take me though. I'd fallen out of favour by that point of course.”

“Of course.”

No longer looking so weak, his hands found a pipe and clamped it between his teeth.

“Are you going to kill the Prince?” he asked

“Yes.” I said.

“Good. Bastard ruined me. I thought I had it figured out you know. Loving wife, beautiful children, good job and then he took me to see her. Goddess but she was beautiful. Wasn't she beautiful Witcher?”

“She was Erick. She was at that.”

“I thought Witchers didn't feel emotions.”

“As it turns out, I do rage pretty well.”

He laughed and choked a large amount of blood out of his mouth.

“Goddess but that hurts.”

“Do you want me to end it for you?”

“In a minute. I've wanted it to end for a while now but now that the end is coming, I find I want to hang on.”

“That's a stomach wound Erick. If I leave it you're going to die ugly.”

“I know, I know. I saw a guy once, gored by a boar. Sat there for an hour until he puked up so much blood that we thought he might have bled to death. He was pleading with us to end it but the Duke wouldn't let us.”

“Did the Duke know what was going to happen?”

“I don't know. Wouldn't surprise me either way. Miserable old sod.”

“Why did you do it Erick? Why did you want to degrade her and do those things to her?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes,”

“Honestly, I don't know. It was like I couldn't help myself you know? No, of course you don't. I saw her and she was so beautiful that she didn't seem as though she was real. She was so beautiful that she was distant. Knowledgable. Unreachable so it seemed impossible to me and I had to reach out to her. To make her real. To bring her down to our level. I don't know what I'm saying. You want to know why? I wand to know why you didn't. How you could walk away when she was there and so unreal. So...beautiful, so bright.”

He shook his head and a huge spasm of pain gripped him.

“A light Witcher?” He waved his pipe.

I snapped my fingers. A simple Igni sign and his tobacco flared into life.

He groaned again “Damn but I always loved that trick.”

Another groan. Sweat stood out on his face.

“Witcher?” He moaned.

I picked up my sword and cut his throat with one strike and severed his spine, fair decapitating him with the second.

I left him there and carved the word “r*p**” into the ground in front of him. I briefly considered burning the cottage to let people know that something had happened but in the end I decided that his wife and children might have belongings of their own in there that they might want to recover.

I walked away without looking back.