A special witcher

Sylvanna and I were seated on Ganon, heading toward Toussaint. The journey unfolded without any real danger: a few wolves prowled the woods, and occasionally a solitary bear, but nothing that resembled a monster.

I let my thoughts drift, still haunted by what I had to do. On one hand, I remained cautious. After all, even if the Lady of the Lake resembled the legends and was, in theory, trustworthy, I couldn't help but doubt her. Who was to say she wasn't lying? It was our first meeting, and I had no tangible proof of her intentions.

On the other hand, her revelations replayed in my mind. If everything she told me was true, then Toussaint and perhaps the entire world was in danger. Thúrlas, that monster from ancient times, wasn't dead but merely weakened. If that was the case, this might be the perfect moment to eliminate him before he could return. But how? Aside from the story the Lady of the Lake had told me, I knew nothing about him, only that he was supposedly hiding somewhere in Toussaint.

I glanced at Sylvanna, and another thought crossed my mind. I was beginning to suspect that she wasn't exactly who she claimed to be. Her unique power, the story of vengeance, the idea of a curse… it all unsettled me. I vaguely recalled an old rumor I'd overheard back when I wasn't paying attention to politics: Anna Henrietta's sister, the current Duchess of Toussaint, was said to have been cursed by the so-called Curse of the Black Sun. But that sister was supposed to be dead… wasn't she?

Lost in my reflections, I was suddenly interrupted by Sylvanna's voice.

"Aiden, look, it's Beauclair! The city known for its vineyards and refined architecture… and over there, the Duchess's castle," she said, her tone darker when mentioning the Duchess.

I lifted my gaze. On the horizon, the vineyards stretched out like a green sea rippling under the sun. At the heart of this picturesque landscape, the castle towers sparkled, looming over a city with an almost otherworldly brilliance.

I turned my eyes from the city to look at Sylvanna, who wore a smile.

"We're heading to Beauclair," I said, meeting her gaze. "We'll find an inn for the night, then figure out our next move."

She nodded, but I caught a strange gleam in her eyes. Was it nostalgia? Sadness?

As we approached the city, the sounds of urban life rose in the air. Merchants called out, advertising their colorful wares; children ran around, laughing loudly; musicians played cheerful tunes in the squares. Beauclair, despite its reputation for luxury and refinement, felt alive a life far removed from the one I'd grown accustomed to in recent days.

Passing through one of the city gates, I couldn't shake the feeling that beneath this peaceful facade, something much darker lurked. Thúrlas, the Lady of the Lake, Arthur, Guinevere… it all seemed so distant, and yet, part of me knew that the answers to my questions lay here, in Beauclair.

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Arriving on the cobblestone streets of Beauclair, I immediately noticed the stares. After all, witchers don't roam the streets often. Stopping in front of an inn called Ragnar of Beauclair, I had Ganon taken to the stables. Dismounting, I helped Sylvanna down, placing my hands on her hips. She couldn't resist making a comment.

"Thank you, my witcher."

I sighed, avoiding conversation. I knew she would once again try to show her playful and insufferable side. Ignoring her, I walked toward the man in charge of the stables, though I heard Sylvanna mutter under her breath, almost offended, that I wasn't any fun.

The stable master looked up as I approached. He seemed surprised but tried to remain professional.

"Master witcher, what can I do for you?"

I pointed to Ganon.

"Take care of my horse. Food, water, and shelter."

He nodded before stating the price.

"Of course, that will be ten crowns a week."

I pulled out a few coins and handed him enough to cover three weeks. He checked the amount, gave a slight bow, and headed toward Ganon.

Sylvanna and I entered the inn. A powerful smell of sweat, alcohol, and stale food hit me instantly. The boisterous laughter of patrons, accompanied by the clinking of tankards and the creaking of chairs, filled my ears.

Sylvanna sighed.

"I hate noisy places where people gather. Sweat and alcohol, what an unbearable combination."

Shaking my head, I moved toward the counter.

"That's the charm of an inn. People come here to drink, eat, sleep, and share stories with friends. It's the smell that bothers me more than anything else."

Facing the innkeeper, I asked for two rooms. He shook his head, still holding a glass he was cleaning.

"Sorry, sir. There's only one room left, with two separate beds."

Intrigued, I frowned.

"Why are there no more rooms available?"

The innkeeper set the glass down on the counter and looked at me with a smile.

"You haven't heard? There's a festival going on. It's attracting a lot of people, especially from the south fleeing the war, but also nobles from the north. The Duchess wants to stay as neutral as possible, despite being a vassal of Nilfgaard."

Sylvanna, curious, stepped forward slightly.

"What kind of festival? It's been a long time since I've been to Toussaint."

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, before replying.

"A festival in honor of Sir Raimond. They say he defended a village all by himself against a horde of monsters. A true hero."

To my surprise, Sylvanna's face darkened briefly. But she quickly regained her smile and nodded.

"Thank you for the information. We'll get some rest."

Before I could add anything, she took my hand and led me toward the stairs to the rooms. Once inside ours, she shut the door with a sharp motion and sat down on one of the beds. I sat beside her, gently rubbing her back to provide a bit of comfort.

Sylvanna suddenly burst out in anger.

"How could she organize a festival for someone who has no honor? That Raimond is worse than a bandit."

I frowned, more serious now.

"Sylvanna, I accompanied you to Toussaint. I agreed to stay with you because you gave me part of the truth about yourself. But now, I need to know the rest. And most importantly, where the orb is."

She turned her head toward me, lowering her gaze. Her hands trembled slightly as she took mine.

"For now, just do your witcher's work. Take on contracts and make a name for yourself. I know for a fact the Duchess needs a skilled witcher for an important mission."

I furrowed my brows, cutting her off.

"Sylvanna, you're still hiding something from me…"

Before I could finish my sentence, she squeezed my hand tighter and raised her voice.

"I know! Just trust me. I promise you'll know everything, but… not now. Please, trust me."

I sighed, pulled my hands away from hers, and stood. Walking toward the door, I spoke without turning around.

"When you're ready, I'll listen. I'm not promising I'll follow you, but if you need someone to listen, I'll be there. For now, I'll do as you said because I have no problem doing my job."

I opened the door and left, leaving Sylvanna alone. I didn't hear her response, but if I had turned around, I would have seen a faint smile forming on her lips.

-------------

Heading back to the counter to order a drink, I gestured to the bartender.

"Do you have any contracts available?"

He squinted at me for a moment, studying me, then nodded. He placed several scrolls on the counter, spreading them out with practiced precision.

"Here's what we have. These are missions ordered by the Duchess. Mostly bandit camps, but there are also a few involving monsters. Be careful some of them are nearly impossible to deal with."

I scanned the contracts quickly, looking for something that might catch the Duchess's attention. The monsters listed at first, like drowners and ghouls, didn't interest me much. Too ordinary. Then, two scrolls stood out.

The first was about a bandit camp that had been active for over a year. Despite multiple attempts, no one had managed to neutralize them. Their leader, apparently a former soldier, was said to be particularly cunning.

The second described a creature referred to as "the Shadowed Terror." According to the contract, this monster started by attacking livestock before turning on the inhabitants of a nearby village.

The bartender noticed my selection and shook his head slightly.

"You really need to be careful with that contract. That monster… it's something else. Two squads of well-trained knights went after it and failed. Few survivors came back to tell the horrors they'd seen. We found one body, and it didn't even look human anymore. It was like it had been completely drained of everything inside. The locals think it's a curse or a vengeful spirit."

I carefully stored the two scrolls in my satchel after a final glance, then finished my drink.

"I'll take these contracts. Who should I talk to for more details?"

The bartender paused, considering, before responding.

"Go see the contract collector. He's got all the necessary information, and if you're lucky, he might have some tips to help you avoid ending up like the others."

I nodded and got up. As I made my way toward the exit, a gruff voice called out from a nearby table.

"You're taking the Shadowed Terror contract? You must have a death wish, witcher."

I turned to see a massive man sitting in the shadows, a tankard in his hand. His battered armor and weary gaze marked him as a former knight.

"I was in the first squad sent after that creature. If you ask me, it's not normal. This isn't some monster you'd find in the manuals. It's something ancient, a horror that shouldn't exist. I was lucky to escape. The others weren't so fortunate."

I stared at the man, his words echoing in my mind. But I didn't reply, choosing instead to keep my thoughts to myself. Leaving the inn, I headed toward the contract collector. My mind lingered on those two missions.

----------

In a dark and silent place, the scene was macabre. Bodies were piled up, drained of all their blood, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. The acrid stench of iron and decay filled the heavy air. At the center of this nightmarish tableau, a figure sat motionless.

The silence was broken by a faint sound. A Bruxa appeared, moving with supernatural grace. She knelt before the figure, bowing her head in a sign of respect.

"My lord, I have come to inform you that the plan is nearly complete. We have successfully corrupted many to our cause."

The figure lifted his head slightly, revealing a face partially illuminated by a reddish glow. His voice, low and cold, resonated in the darkness.

"Perfect. Soon, I shall return to this world."

With a slow motion, he placed a hand on his abdomen, where an old scar betrayed a deep wound. His fingers brushed over the mark with a strange melancholy, before a chilling smile stretched across his lips.

"Arthur, everything you did was for nothing. You should have accepted my offer of allegiance. Had you done so, you would never have been betrayed by those you sought to protect."

He shook his head slightly, as if lamenting the stubbornness of an old adversary. Then, finally raising his gaze, his face came fully into view. Thúrlas. His cruel smile barely lit the shadows that surrounded him.

He fixed his gaze on the Bruxa, who dared not move, and spoke with an icy calm.

"Thanks to that foolish family and Anna Henrietta for this festival. They don't even realize they're celebrating their own downfall. For soon, the Blood Moon will rise again."

The Bruxa looked up, captivated, but remained silent. Thúrlas turned his attention toward the invisible horizon. His eyes, glowing like embers, seemed to pierce through the darkness.

The room sank back into an oppressive silence. Only the shadows danced faintly around him, as if awaiting his command. Then, with an imperceptible movement, he vanished into the darkness, leaving behind nothing but the piled corpses and the stench of death.