The Divine Hunter

"Come with me, please, witchers." The sounds of footsteps rang across the castle's hallways. A maid with a generous bosom appeared. She was in a blue blouse and apron with lace. The apron's strings were tied in a ribbon behind her back, while her neck and wrists were decorated with floral trinkets. She had a curvy body, and Roy could see it perfectly from where he stood. He was reminded of Lytta. They kept in touch using the telescope even when Roy was traveling the wilds, but it had been a while since they had a date after leaving Vizima. He missed her.

"Hey, kid!" Letho broke his train of thoughts. "It's been a month. Can we even find anything?"

"I can't." Roy held his chest. "But maybe you can." That was why he wanted Letho to come along. His witcher senses allowed him to see clues most people or even dogs failed to track. They could even see clues dating back a year ago if the scene was remote and untouched.

***

They came to the banquet hall on the second floor. It was the same place the banquet was held a month ago. The bright light shone down on the long, beautiful table in the center of the hall. The chairs were neatly kept, and the dance floor was empty. There was almost not a speck of dust on it. Roy took a quick look at it. "Lady Sylvia, you have to clean this place a few times every day, don't you?"

The servant looked haggard and spaced out. She stared at Roy dumbly for a few moments and answered, "Lady Louisa is particular about her home. She demands absolute cleanliness, especially after she gave birth to Lady Anais. The sight of dust alone ruins her appetite, so we clean the dining hall three times a day. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once at night."

Letho scoffed. He was used to living in the wilds and going for weeks without bathing. Any cleaning work was a waste of time for him. "You can't get any work done if you spend all your time cleaning."

"We'll need a list of the banquet's guests, Sylvia. In the meantime, we'll be searching the hall."

Sylvia stared down and hesitated. She then remembered the baron's orders and left to do her job.

The witchers exchanged looks and went to opposite ends of the hall. Letho's eyes shone when he activated his witcher senses. It was like a wolf's eyes in the dark. He scanned the hall and saw light, messy footprints on the ground. There were marks of brooms and mops dragging across the floor. The pillars and armrests had marks of someone pushing down on them as well.

Ribbons of varying colors appeared in the air. Letho brushed his hand across the table and chairs, then he approached the ribbons and sniffed them. "Let's see what the baron had yesterday. Apple pie, bread, grilled sausages, Cote-de-Blessure, blueberry cod, and smoked pork. Hm, the pork smells familiar. Now, where have I smelled this before?" Letho tried to recall where he smelled those spices before, and he was reminded of Henhouse's specialty dish. "So the baron is a regular at Barton's inn, huh?"

***

Roy was on the other end of the dining hall. He leaned against a pillar and crossed his arms. The young witcher quietly scanned every corner of the hall, including those where the light did not reach. His eyes gleamed. A long while later, he came to the edge of a window and stuck his head out to look downward.

The outer walls of the castle were made of big marble slabs. They were ancient, but the walls were still smooth to the touch. There were no nooks or crannies for anyone to hold on to. About twenty yards underneath them was a man-made ditch that surrounded the castle. The sun shone down on the water, and it gleamed like stars.

"I bet the servants switched out everything in this room twice. At least." Letho came up to Roy. "They don't even know how to preserve evidence. There's nothing but yesterday's dinner and today's breakfast's smell. And also their footprints. And marks of their cleaning work." He sighed. "What about you, kid? Find anything?"

Roy shook his head. "We probably can't find anything here, but I did notice something. I've been keeping an eye on the structure of the castle ever since we came in. I wonder how the culprit managed to sneak in and out."

"Probably not from the windows." Letho looked down the walls of the castle. Not even a witcher could climb up or down the walls. "They'd make a lot of noise if they jumped out the window. The culprit would've fallen into the ditch and alerted the soldiers."

There were a dozen fully-armed soldiers standing guard outside. From what Roy saw, there were even more soldiers patrolling the first floor of the castle. There were no blind spots at all. The front gates were even more tightly guarded. Nobody could come in without the baron's invitation.

"Assuming Amos isn't the culprit, then the real curse giver must be an insider. Either it's the baron's servants, or one of the guests who went to the banquet. And they know the castle really well too," Roy said. "That's why they could get rid of Amos so quickly and quietly."

***

"This is the list you requested, witchers." Sylvia handed the witchers a leather paper with gold edges.

Roy scanned through it. There were about twenty names there. "Elvis, Austen…"

"There were twenty-four guests that night," Sylvia explained. "Twelve of them merchants who reside in the fief, five of them the baron's most trusted men, six of them the baron and the lady's relatives, and the last one…" Sylvia huddled closer to the witcher and looked at the first name on the list. "Setlov. He's an official from Vizima and one of the baron's good friends."

Roy could smell a nice scent coming from Sylvia. He wondered who Setlov was, and then the corner of his lips twitched. "Setlov, huh?"

"Do you know him?" Sylvia looked at him curiously.

"Saw him once. Setlov is… a really close friend of the baron's," Roy said mysteriously. "But I digress. Sylvia, the baron trusts you enough to let you help with this case. Surely you know all of the guests on this list?"

Sylvia placed her hands on her lower belly and nodded solemnly.

"How do they get along with Sir Aryan then?" Letho interrupted. "Tell us your judgment. Are any of them distant or hostile to him?"

Sylvia answered without hesitation, "Oh, I can answer that. I've been with him every day since he was born, up until he was thirteen." A motherly love glinted in her eyes. "I promise that Sir Atyan is a brave, kind, and upright young man. He's as brilliant as the sun. He dreams to be a knight, and he's been following their creed too. He's nice to everyone. The guests, everyone in the castle, and the people of La Valette adore him. Nobody hates him."

"What about the guests' children then? Did they ever get into any conflicts? Especially those who're his age?" Letho kept asking.

Sylvia shook her head adamantly.

"How are you so sure?" Letho wondered why she did not even hesitate.

"Witchers, my family has been working for the La Valettes since the time of my grandmother. It's our job to raise the family's children. I raised Sir Aryan myself."

Roy tucked the list away and said, "Sylvia, we need to see the side chamber. We need to see where the troupe stayed when they were here, and also we have to see the room where Sir Aryan disappeared. Let's start with the troupe's room."

Sylvia nodded, but before she turned around, she pleaded earnestly, "Witchers, please capture the culprit as soon as you can and save Sir Aryan. H-He adores witchers."

"What do you mean?" Letho and Roy had weird looks on their faces. As far as they were concerned, it was already a miracle that children of aristocrats didn't look down on them. Adoration was out of the question.

Sylvia pursed her lips and walked down memory lane. "Sir Aryan loved listening to the tales of witchers every time he couldn't sleep. He was just a child back then, and I told him all about it. He especially loves the tale of the White Wolf and Renfri. And also her gang. He thinks the White Wolf is an outstanding swordsman."

"Well, Geralt's famous." The witchers had mixed feelings about this. They assured her, "Sylvia, you can trust us. We took the request, and we will do everything we can to save Sir Aryan."

***

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