The Divine Hunter

"What brings you to La Valette, Roy?" Eveline held Roy's shoulders with trembling hands and slowly moved herself with the young witcher's help. She tore the wounds on her body with every inch she walked, and she clenched her teeth in pain.

"We're on our way to Novigrad. Planning on crossing the White Bridge." Roy wrapped his arm around her lower back and held her up. He looked at her closely. The elven dancer was nothing more than skin and bones now, and her chin was unusually sharp.

Eveline's wounds were severe. From what Roy read about medicine, the incessant lashings and malnourishment had destroyed her body. Even if the wounds were to heal, she would be left with complications like arthritis. Eveline was oblivious to that for the time being, however.

"You guys have something to do in Novigrad?" Eveline looked around her. A dozen soldiers, Dylan, and Letho were following them. Roy convinced Serrit, Auckes, and Felix to settle into an inn and keep an eye on the horses. They were on a reconnaissance mission, not a battle. There was no need for a big team.

It was the first time Eveline saw six witchers, apprentice included, going around in a team.

"Technically, yes." Roy fell silent. In the end, he said honestly, "But I'll be seeing my parents as well. It's been more than a year since I saw them. We've been separated ever since I left with Letho. I wonder how they're doing."

"Um, I thought you said your parents were dead." Eveline stared at Roy unblinkingly.

"Um, uh… It was just a little white lie. Don't think too much about it." Roy hemmed and hawed, and much to his relief, Kantilla stepped in to change the subject.

"Witchers have parents too?" Kantilla stubbornly refused Roy's help. She dragged herself ahead despite her wounds. Her beautiful, muscular feet were abraded, as she was walking barefoot. A trail of blood followed her, but she paid it no heed.

"Of course." Roy heaved a sigh of relief and smiled. "We didn't just appear out of nowhere, you know."

"You might laugh at me, but…" Kantilla guffawed, but it quickly turned into a wince. She’d pulled her wounds. "I always thought witchers came straight from a sorcerer's lab like some sort of emotionless homunculus, but now I see I was dead wrong." Kantilla turned around to look at Letho, then she stared straight at Roy. "Most witchers look cold and emotionless, but you're actually regular humans inside. You came to our rescue even though you knew the baron was out for us. You put yourself in harm's way for us." Kantilla patted his shoulder. "Thanks, Roy."

"I just happened to be in town." Roy thought pensively. "Never thought I'd hear about you from the soldier. You guys are my friends. I couldn’t just do nothing."

Everyone fell silent this time.

"It's harrowing how far the troupe has fallen." Eveline had a melancholic look on her face. "It's like we lost everything overnight."

Ever since Amos 'escaped,' the baron took his fury out on the remaining troupe members. He locked them in the dungeon and tortured them for answers. He demanded to know where Amos was hiding.

"I'd love to know where Amos is right now." Adeline craned her neck, tears welling up in her eyes, a frown furrowing her brows. "The soldiers tortured us, day in and day out. Whips, hunting knives, and red-hot pokers." Fear filled her eyes.

"More importantly, these bastards wouldn't even give us anything to eat!" Kantilla growled. "All we had was a bowl of dirty water and a piece of bread that was as hard as rocks. I couldn't escape, even if I wanted to. Didn't even have any energy."

"What are you talking about with the women, witcher?" Dylan shot him a look of suspicion.

"Nothing, Dylan. I'm just trying to know more about the case. Speaking of which, are we getting there yet?" Roy noticed that the walls were getting thicker, while the civilians were thinning out. The number of soldiers increased, though.

"In about five minutes." Dylan warned, "And don't pull anything funny." He ignored them. Roy did give him some coins. It would be rude if he pushed them too hard.

***

"They locked us up for about two weeks, but they couldn't get any valuable information out of us. Of course they couldn't. We know nothing about this. The baron's fury mounted." Eveline lowered her voice to a whisper. "So he told his men to parade us on the plaza. The city's people spat at us and hurled every insult in the land at us. It was torture for the soul." Sometimes torturing the mind was worse than physical torture.

Roy sighed. "What about Collins?"

"Those bastards insulted Ferroz, and all he could do was watch. They were horrid. Didn't hold back at all. He cursed the baron in his face, and Collins was burned to death. He was a gentle soul. He shouldn't have met that kind of end."

The ladies looked dejected, and they gnashed their teeth. They would have that terrible scene in their minds forever, but they couldn't change a thing. Aristocrats could kill any civilian on their turf easily as long as they wanted to, let alone a crime suspect.

Roy had seen power abuse firsthand before. Verrieres of the White Orchard was a prime example. He killed off most of the people in the orchard and still got away with it. The people died for nothing. The lords of the lands controlled the lives of everyone who lived in it, at least in this era. "Do you hate him then?" Roy whispered.

Eveline said nothing, while Kantilla hissed, "I feel sorry for the boy, but that's no reason for the baron to torture us." Flames of fury burned in her eyes. "I am a Zerrikanian. We always collect our debts. I will make sure the baron and that bastard who made Amos his scapegoat pay for what they did."

"Don't tell anyone about that. Keep quiet and wait for an opening," Roy said seriously. He looked up and saw a great castle looming over him. The castle was taller than the buildings around him, and it even dwarfed the walls.

"We're here."

***

The chains rattled, and the witcher followed the soldiers into the castle. The city was filled with squalid paths, haphazard walls, and misshapen houses, but the castle was a different story. It was the definition of luxury. The ceiling was filled with magical crystal lights that illuminated the halls and corridors. Silk curtains filled with intricate embroidery hung from the windows on both sides of the corridor. Expensive antique vases, clean armors, beast specimens, and all sorts of trinkets stood in every corner. The La Valettes had accumulated enough wealth over the generations to rival the collection in Foltest's castle.

Roy expected this. Baron La Valette might only be a baron, but his land was crucial to Temeria. Thanks to that, he had more power and soldiers than any other lord in Temeria. Foltest stayed out of La Valette's affair as much as he could, giving them the chance to unite everyone in the surrounding area. It was nigh impossible to interfere with La Valette's rulership. Besides, it would be disastrous if Baron and his forces were to side with Redania if he was pushed too far.

The soldiers did not give the witchers any time to tour the castle. They were led up a flight of spiral stairs after a thorough body check, while the troupe members were taken back into the dungeon.

The witchers came to the study on the third floor.

"Tell me your names, witchers." Baron was standing upright before a bookshelf filled with books. His tight top covered with beautiful embroidery and precious gold gleamed under the light, but not even that gleam could hide the look of exhaustion on his face. His back was slightly hunched, and stress lines traveled down both sides of his cheek. The wrinkles on his forehead and eyes were layered, as if they were little mountains. He had neglected to groom himself lately. His stubble and grey hair were glistening with grease. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had not been sleeping well lately.

"Letho of the Viper School."

"Roy of the Viper School."

The witchers looked at the baron. He was older and smaller than expected, though he still had that same arrogance present in every aristocrat. Every time he looked at them, it was like he was assessing them. He stared at the young witcher and asked raspily, "You are Roy of the Viper School?"

There had been a line of people styling themselves as some sort of powerful saviors who claimed they could save his son lately. They turned out to be charlatans in the end, and Baron had enough of this fruitless waiting.

"That's me."

"I think I've heard that name before." He paced around like a cat on hot bricks and slammed his fists together. "Oh, right. An old friend of mine told me about a new play in the capital's opera. It's called Legend of the Sewer Butcher—Ender of Filth. The protagonist is a witcher called Roy. Is that you?"

Baron nodded, and the look in his eyes turned just a bit gentler. He asked, "Did you really wipe Vizima's sewers of all the monsters like the play said, Master Roy?"

"Ahem. That's an exaggeration, but I did kill a lot of monsters," Roy answered humbly for once.

"Well, then I hope you're as good a tracker as you're a monster killer." The baron said, "You know what happened, so I won't waste my time repeating the case. Do please bear in mind that my son has been bedridden for a long time now. He's the heir to this land, but he's dying because he can't even eat. If you're willing to help, then I would like to see Amos within one week. As promised, you shall be rewarded handsomely if he lifts the curse from Aryan. I swear on the honor of the La Valette family."

"What's the difference?" The baron clenched his fist, displeased about Roy's question. "If you can arrest him, he can lift the curse he cast on my son."

"I don't think so, baron." Roy's eyes glinted. "I've talked to the troupe members not too long ago. And judging from what they said, it's obvious that Amos is not the curse giver."

"Witcher!" Baron raised his voice. "Someone told me the same thing before, but they failed to prove it. Nobody can prove that the performer is not behind this. Instead of wasting your time finding this… culprit, I suggest you track Amos down and bring him to me."

***

"Have you heard of the name Ignatius Verrieres?" Roy suddenly asked.

"The White Orchard's lord?" Baron frowned. He wondered why Roy was bringing up someone irrelevant to the situation.

"Yes." Roy stared into his eyes. "Baron Ignatius used to be in your situation as well. Letho and I cracked the case for him and made sure his bloodline got to go on."

"Witcher, lying to a lord is a severe crime." Baron put his hands behind his back and pushed his belly forward. He gave the witchers a sidelong glance. "And we tolerate no liars. They're either burned or hanged."

"You can always send someone to Amavet and get the confirmation you need," Roy said confidently. He knew the baron had no time for that. "I'm just saying that you should trust us. Give us time to look into this."

The baron fell silent. He was wavering.

Roy kept pushing. "Baron, you should have searched everywhere at this point, and nothing happened. Why don't you change your approach? Take it from the top and find out who the hidden culprit really is."

"What do you have in mind, witchers?"

"We'll be checking the crime scene again. Everyone who worked on the banquet must be present too," Roy said. "I'm sure you missed some details."