The Witcher's Path: New Rays From an Ancient Sun

“Frejdá! Hey! Anyone home?”

A purple hoof armored in orange, studded leather waved itself before my distant vision as my path of thought was once again ripped away from me by a sudden interruption. It took yet a split-second more for my mind to feel ready enough to address her verbally and I noticed that her ever-present shadow Topaz remained close by, but down on the ground floor with visible nervous energy. Indeed, both of them looked frazzled and beyond anxious as their eyes kept darting towards the doors to leave. And in all truth...they were justified in feeling such feelings and countless more beneath the surface as I looked Violet in the eye as I opened my mouth to speak. After all...their lofty plans had just been unceremoniously ripped out from under their hooves like a tablecloth upon a heavily-laden banquet table. Some parts were going to be hopefully recoverable, but most was going to need to be tossed away; its inherent usefulness now rendered essentially meaningless.

“I shouldn't be surprised to see you after all that was just said.” I sighed sadly as I did my best to look sympathetic. “Looks like plans will have to change somehow for your little scheme that you had in mind. Do you have someone else on retainer nearby you can sling a couple hundred Crowns to do it all for you?”

“Asik has dropped off the map again and I don't have the time to send a Zamak in every direction on the compass just trying to find his sorry ass. That leaves just one mare I can trust who's close enough to get word to in time for all this insanity…and I'm afraid she'll say no to me this time after everything else she's already done for me…”

“Who would th-…? Wait… You…you cannot possibly believe for a second I am cut out for that kind of work!” I gasped back in as hushed a tone as I could for such an echoing room still occupied by a few others. “You absolutely stupid, ridiculously daft bitch! No! I absolutely refuse!”

“Hear me out? Please?!” She begged with such passionate fury even I felt cowed somewhat by the inner ferocity burning in her eyes as she made her plea. “Just…ugh, fuck! Let's talk outside where the walls don't have so many fuckin' ears…”

The adrenaline granted me from the sudden shock from her absurd request made movement far easier than before, and I found the energy to quickly rise from my seat; exiting the Council Chambers with my weapons floating along close beside me. Topaz was seemingly also being dragged along at a blistering pace alongside and behind me as Violet stalked through the Master's Hall and past Annamarie at her desk to reach the Great Hall in a great rush. Our early morning meeting now over, the beginning overtures of the morning meal started to stir in the Hall as the extra tables began to be assembled starting in the lower half to accommodate the School's active roster of students. The serving staff, in their impeccable robes of white and red, were all cheerfully conversing in quiet murmurs with one another as they set about their morning routine in preparation for everyone else's. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of the moment, I had been left no time to indulge myself in a bite to eat from the modest selection of food Nana Evelyn had been attending to. Not only was that my rather rotten luck for the morning, but the Great Hall was, as of yet, utterly devoid of any semblance of foodstuffs as well. Naught but the cutlery and plates had been laid upon the tables with the staff now adding wooden tankards and kerchiefs at each seating area, but not a single hint of anything edible. Surely something delicious such as oatmeal, gruel, or a savory porridge sat bubbling inside those mighty cauldrons in the Kitchens below us just begging to be devoured. Toasted bread with jam and butter likely were likely to accompany whatever the meal was…along with fresh fruits and juices in tall chilled pitchers of stone… The more my daydreams wandered, the greater my longing grew for the feast I had enjoyed at the Crosswinds the night before. It had been a simpler time not even seven hours before... I had extremely good food, even better conversation and the most delicious Bitters on the Continent. In those hours, I had experienced but a gasp of the heavenly air peace and happiness provided me in an otherwise rather dour profession and lifestyle. Yet such a thing had come and gone, having become one with the past left behind in our wake as we soldiered forward. Instead, my grumbling stomach and I were led along by our insistent purple Yonderlandian directly across the Hall to the middle door granting passage into the Grand Library. Our final destination remained a mystery...yet there was only so far within School grounds that she could conceivably go to without having to leave the walls entirely.

Contained within the mighty apse built off the western face of the keep, the School's extensive Library formed a great rotunda with a grand, circular staircase servicing the ten-story multi-use area. The ground floor was entirely devoid of bookshelves, but rather played host to a sea of reading desks surrounding a circular desk set in the center of the room where the comfortable-looking seat of the Head Scribe and Grand Librarian, Tahl Frost-Tail, resided. This early in the morning, nary a Soul occupied the lofty round room with its floor-to-ceiling murals of Kaer Solaris' lengthy history looming over them, all save for a few other Librarians sorting leather-bound tomes in a far corner. Tahl himself had likely yet to rise as his grand chair sat empty whilst only the softest of murmurs could be heard from the upper floors and the Rookery at the top story; the noise echoing down through the wide circular break running up the center of each upper floor. Violet's course stayed swift and true as she steered us through one of two open doorways in the wall which led onto the spiraling stone staircase forming a wide double-helix as they curled upwards. What portions of the stairway that did not exit out onto one of the other floors instead passed through curved passages of stone, lit by gently glowing Sunstones and painted thoroughly by further murals depicting assorted scenes from Witcher lore. Eight circular stories’ worth of cozy reading nooks and overstuffed bookshelves passed us by as we rushed to mount the stairs in our friend's wake, passing then a further two stories locked behind sealed steel doors embedded in the stone passage. Naturally, we had no need to barge into the Chamberlain Scribes private domain of procedures and proper paperwork, and we emerged out onto the open and airy tenth floor; the hub of all mail sent and received within the School.

The semicircular roof of the Grand Library came to a high, sloped peak of maroon shingles from which dozens of great golden cages with lavish comforts dangled via thick chains of iron. Dozens more open portals likewise poked through each section of roof for easy passage of this floors’ great feathered residents. The many talented occupants of this floor was none other than our grand flock of Zamak Ravens who received exceedingly great levels of care and training by our equally-talented Ravenmasters. Through their many years of careful training, our Zamaks looked up to their handler as their dominant elder family members who lead the flock. Of the twelve Ravenmasters kept on staff, only two tended to be on-duty at any given time within the Rookery itself whilst the rest either rested, were out training, or were otherwise caring for their Zamaks somewhere within the Valley or its immediate surroundings. The walking space available within the Rookery, which sported a central railing with a view down to Tahl’s desk ten-stories below, was mostly devoid of overtly flashy decoration upon its stone walls. Rather, calming murals of bright-and-sunny woodlands and plains of beautiful grasslands accompanied a collection of small writing desks ringing the modest space, accompanied by some groups of shelving bearing stacks of paper and parchment of varying sizes and thicknesses. Writing implements, maps, and wax sealing kits likewise found places amidst the Rookery’s cache of supplies for sending and receiving messages; the only other supplies being those needed to care for the Zamaks themselves who only returned to their gilded nests to rest and preen as their feeding and training occurred elsewhere in the Valley. At this hour, the lonely pair of Ravenmasters sat awake with no messages to send in a private nook partitioned off by curtain racks partially drawn back. Each dozed happily in their chairs whilst the morning air passed through the many openings in the roof with a soft, persistent whoosh. Even as we passed through the quiet space, the eyes of what Zamaks were awake peered down at us with keen red eyes and gave soft caws of friendly greeting which roused our Ravenmasters from their morning relaxation. Fragrant, if musty, white smoke also billowed somewhat from their comfortable rest on a pair of padded couches as they passed a long clay pipe of potent Dwemish Tabak between them. Truly a restful morning I envied as they were spared the impending words of a very pissed-off Violet.

“Ah, three great Missus at once?” The first one asked in a soft daze, a jolly green Lesser Dragon who went by the self-appointed name of Scorch. “Sorry Masters, we were puffing rings and enjoying the mornin’ breeze through the rafters, weren't we Haavlan?”

“Aye, tis a beautiful mornin’ fer a wee pipe o’ Tabak.” Agreed the stout Dwem male who sported golden feathers grafted amidst his natural tan plumage. “Are ye in need o’ a quick missive perhaps? Or maybe ye need tah look for someone like th’ Archmaster needed to when he were lookin’ fer Master Bjørn n’ his lil shadow-in-training. Heard wha’ happened to tha’ poor young lad’s mother. Me brother's wife knew her grandmother's goldsmith fer their wedding bangles…right shite luck that was fer such a nice lil’ family.”

“Indeed…” I agreed with a subdued nod even as Violet silently continued her pace towards the door leading to the exterior balcony. “Pardon us good gents, return to your pipe and enjoy your morning as we are merely passing through the area it seems. Thank you graciously though!”

“No work? Tis good news indeed then! Have a blessed morning then, Master Witchers!” Scorch chuckled heartily as he waved his talons our direction as we exited to the outside via a north-facing door.

I gave them a gentle wave in the brief moment allotted to me by the speed of our dash outdoors and respectfully shut the door behind us as we emerged out onto the lengthy covered balcony which rung round the exterior of the Rookery. Being roughly level with the retaining wall of the School, the balcony only offered views of inside the western half of the School, including the path to the scullery and the Head Chef's living quarters to the south, the School’s modest little plot of farmland and Granary directly to our west, and the Northern Towers directly opposite of us across a short bridge over the Lower Courtyard. The Tower at the other end acted as Master Razorbeak’s fencing classroom, personal office, and private living quarters for himself and his two lieutenants-in-teaching. The other Northern Tower to its immediate east across the roof of the gatehouse was similarly a classroom, office and private living quarters all at once, this time for Paladin Thistle Briar and some of his fellow Knights of the Eclipse. There, students would be regaled with lectures on the broader strokes of world history, philosophy and etiquette as it behooved all Witchers to have at least a basic grasp of these matters. We were not quite in the same league of scholar warriors as the Knights of the Eclipse whose noble order originated amongst the Hippogriffs, yet we were expected to hold ourselves to something akin to those universal Knightly values; good manners, good education and good intentions all in equal measure. The Equestrian Empire and its numerous loyal lapdogs might have deemed the Witchers to be an unruly relic of the past, yet we still owed it to ourselves to be knowledgeable and cultured in our conduct. If not for the mere sake of appearances and the public perception of our general professionalism alone, something which was eternally needing to be proven on the world stage it seemed.

Violet's journey had yet to find its destination it seemed though, and she continued to drag us along across the bridge to the Northern Towers. At the other end, the bridge met the foot of the door to Razorbeak’s classroom and split in either direction around the tower in order to connect with the rest of the curtain wall. Our path continued due westward along the rampart towards the entrance of the Northwest Tower, which acted as an annex for both Anatomy and Bestiary classes. Dissections of specimens occurred on the lower two floors whilst the upper third and fourth floors housed a storehouse and a dedicated classroom respectively. The door opened easily to her tug upon the ringed handle and revealed an empty, squared room full of spotless marble mortuary slabs with leather-wrapped bundles of tools sat upon short tables built onto the head and foot of each dissection station. Painstakingly detailed charts and diagrams were hung from the walls which displayed the complex inner anatomies of countless creatures and smaller copied etchings could be hung from brackets built onto posts attached to every station. As we mounted the narrow wooden stairs bound for the roof, it wasn't hard to notice that whatever students were to occupy the tower later were learning about Insectoid-category monsters as I spied charts with the familiar inner workings of Kikimores and Arachasae already posted at each station. The simplistic classrooms likewise had enormous etchings of these beasts posted by the lectern at the head of the rows of relatively comfortable desks, themselves each already sporting canisters with various larval Insectoids pickled in formaldehyde for close study. Access to the roof itself was provided by a simple ladderwell tucked away in the corner behind an L-shaped wooden partition which had a duty roster for the School Guard posted in the inner face. A quick glance was enough to inform me that we would have some guests to temporarily dismiss once we got to the top in order to get the privacy she wanted. Why she chose here rather than…say, anywhere else…? I hadn't the foggiest. I was merely along for the trip as she had some serious groveling to do in order to get my undivided attention for her impending arguments.

“You two, leave us.” Violet commanded as soon as a pair of sallet-helmeted heads turned our direction with no little amount of surprise as we climbed up to join them atop their lonely tower.

“Violet!” I barked at her rather harshly as I was growing fairly irritated by her treatment of others merely because she was always in a rush. “Noble Guard, please take a momentary break down upon the wall if you would. Violet? Fucking apologize to these good stallions for being such a rude little shite to these fine stallions…”

“Ugh! Sorry…” She grunted back towards them in reply, the two Unicorns glancing between each other in stunned silence unable to reply. “You can stop standing around now…go on.”

They inclined their heads respectfully and shouldered their partisans upon their plate spaulders in a rush to leave. It was likely out of stunned fear they gave nary a word as they quickly vacated the top of the tower, leaving us alone amidst the square ring of battlements once the floor hatch thudded shut. None of us dare speak a word either as we waited as one to hear the echo of the lower tower door open and shut as the two of them exited out onto the wall below. Once the jingle of their chain hauberks and creak of their leather straps faded onto the wall towards the gatehouse, a collective sigh of relief was shared between us. The only other noise present past that was the soft flap of the proud Wolf Crest flag on a long pole in the northwest corner of the tower as it billowed in the pervasive mountain breeze. That was…until Violet turned to me with a sudden, rather unexpected question.

“Can you perform a muffling charm?”

“What, across the whole tower? I am far from a Sorceress's level of on-command control of the Power you know, even for a Lowland.”

“Yeah, I know, magic and you aren't the strongest of friends. Just cast it around us would you? Or is that too much for you as well?”

“You are being extremely rude this morning Violet…I do not appreciate that. It's one thing for Rosemary to mock my lack of talent but you?”

“Yeah, I won't even bother defending you on this one, Vi." Topaz spoke in my defense leaving Violet and her irritating attitude cornered. "Just because you're pissed off at the situation doesn't give you the right to lash out on her for it. Especially when you're trying to fucking ask her to do something for you!”

“On top of what I've already lost sleep over for you last night, let's not forget that either…” I sighed tiredly to which Violet backed herself up physically against the corner of the battlements and sat back against them with a hefty sigh of her own.

“Sorry…just…sorry…Frejdá.” She grunted out after a moment or two of holding her head in her armored hooves and taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

“All is forgiven, Vi. This time…” I said simply before I too sat down and raised my hooves in the manner of a caster whilst digging out of my mind the simplistic muffling charm I had been compelled to learn, courtesy of an embarrassingly loud Petra. “Bí Ciúin!”

Immediately I felt my heart flutter ever so lightly at the sudden rush of the Power through my inner Aura as the simple spell exceeded what was usually required for a typical Witcher's Sign. From between my hooves, an almost imperceptibly white orb of magic expanded out like a bubble to cover a space only a couple of meters squared. Hardly anything impressive, nor particularly long lasting without a charged crystal to maintain energy to the power-hungry, amateur spell…but it was enough to muffle my bedroom if I happened to entertain a guest overnight. Whether or not Violet had known all this when she had asked me to cast it…I could only assume something had slipped my lips the last time we were slobbering drunk together. There was a chance perhaps that she had simply been asking out of blatant curiosity with no prior knowledge and I was making a whole mess over nothing. That, or Petra had found it such a hilarious tale that she simply could not be bothered to keep it between us and whispered things into their ears for a quick giggle or two…

“Very well, one muffling charm as only this pathetic street magician can perform.” I said with a slightly sarcastic bow. “We have five, maybe six minutes before I need to cast this again so by all means, speak your piece Vi. You dragged my arse this far along, I might as well hear your full argument from the top.”

“Thank you.” She said simply as she looked up from her hooves and stared me directly in the eyes with her soft amethyst ones. “Frejdá…I doubt I need to remind you how much these vermin, these…parasites, deserve the end Topaz and I deliver to them. You hardly become a semi-independent Duchy under Equestrian oversight by resisting Canterlot or the will of the Empress…you of all fucking mares should know that too. The only difference here is that Āider almost got swallowed up due to that ridiculous debt problem you all had, and it was only the King who sold it all out from under you guys in order to absolve himself of them. Yonderland willingly gave itself up to Equestrian vassalhood when they realized they could save on wine and cheese tariffs and the nobility would have first claim to any conquered lands in the borderlands. Equestria takes her 25% cut of all Ducal income and the remainder trickles down from there in great clumps. Did all the common folk and laymares agree to such a measure? Not exactly, but they still profited greatly from the transfer of power and so have no room to argue against the status quo. Yonderland is the land of wine and sun as everyone likes to boast on-and-on about…while many regions around them struggle, they know only tranquility and abundance. It is an absolute fucking travesty to witness, even five hundred years after the fact.”

“Well…to be fair, the land they were originally gifted by the Thestrals and those surrounding it which they conquered are all perfect vineyard country. Idyllic temperatures and humidity, fertile soil, and not to mention the preexisting wine presses in the region they inherited along with it all. They practically began as a nation with a mighty fine vested interest in producing wines bred to compete with the likes of Eldar vintages. To do otherwise would have been a complete waste of the region and its natural abundance.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t negate the fact that, aside from donating a few villages’ worth of soldiers towards Celestia’s needs every other decade and a bi-annual tribute in coin and goods, they sold themselves short for a life of peace and plenty. They had known independence at one point! They had earned the right to self-governance in those rich lands you just mentioned. Why would they give that up when they could have been an independent power?! All to save some coin on exporting luxury goods to the same people they broke away from?! It is an absolute disgrace to what Yonderland could have been. Should have been!”

“I think you are forgetting that most folks in this world wish for the very same peace and plenty you just described for themselves and those they love… Fuck, I would be most willing to bet my own Fangs on the notion that the vast majority of Creation itself wants nothing more than as close to a guaranteed life of peace and prosperity as this life can offer. To be alive and Sentient is to be painfully aware of constant base needs such as the need to eat, drink, or breathe and are also quite capable of voicing our inner pains into conscious words. Two of those things I just mentioned most certainly cost more labor and money than the last, and to lack in any of them would kill most anything alive. We are lucky to have been so blessed by the Changes so as to be the recipients of such beautiful fortresses as Kaer Solaris…we asked for a harder road than that trod by most. Especially your average Equestrian peasant with scarcely fifty Crowns to their name per-year who are the common fodder for early death and ignorant superstitions which are endlessly hazardous to their health. I know it is hard to imagine…but try for even the briefest of moments to consider yourself poor and destitute like unto some sorry fuck out of some village like Bramble Woods or Harlander. What would you be willing to sacrifice in order to be guaranteed peace and stability each and every year? Your fields of oats and grain allowed to be sown, grown, harvested, and threshed in due course with the calm change of the seasons in a land simply made to be farmland, vineyard and pasture? Your extensive family is all similarly cared for and allowed to live a life free of undue horror like unto the rest of the world. Their lives are still hard and back-breaking for most…but aside from the occasional bout of plague or minor droughts, they know no further hardships than the manual labor of the common peasantfolk. Monsters, Daemon, war, plague, and all the destruction they bring are leagues away in other nations that are not your own…so why should you care that your ancestors sold what little freedoms you might have otherwise have had as an independent village? Few such independent places can claim to have ready defenses or defenders willing to put their lives on the line in order to maintain public order while every town and village under Equestrian control features a garrison of soldiers and even token defenses at the very least. I don’t know Violet…were I not a Witcher, or a Lowland, I would take the life of a Yonderlandian peasant over that of even a middle-born noble of anywhere else across the contiguous Empire; vassal state or fully integrated into Equestria proper. And that is to say nothing of both the merchant and artisan classes of Yonderlandian society who comprise a tier of low-ranking nobility all their own. They too almost want for nothing but to expand their business interests whilst freely plying their skills in an open market of potential buyers. They resigned their independence and the possibilities such a future would have held, yet they did it for a near-guaranteed promise which has been utterly held to the letter…if only every other region was so lucky and so blessed and peaceful as Yonderland.”

“I get it, I get it…” She grunted in reply after I had finished my long-winded speech regarding the peasantry. “And the rational part of me is agreeing with you on all of those points. That being said…this isn’t about the lowliest beings on the social ladder, this is about the upper rungs and their whole corrupted framework. In Yonderland, wine and blood are held to similar standards before the altar of coin…the finest of casks only go to those with the bluest blood flowing through their veins, just as the noblest of titles are reserved for the wealthiest of families. Rarely does one rise in the Cabal without an excessive pile of gold at their beck and call. Money keeps the world turning just as much as magic does, and the weight of all that metal can be felt in the power they exert over what they will. I’ve no interest in wasting the cheap wine of the average working mare or stallion…I wish to strip away from their very lips the precious Sangreal they sip upon. The greatest deed performed on my behalf by the entire De La Croix family was my grandmother! The rest of my regrettable relations have let the fat of the last five-centuries of profitable servitude to Celestia go right to their heads and arses…”

“Oh? And what did your grandmother do for you exactly? I cannot recall you mentioning her before now.”

“I don't dare mention anyone I willingly choose to forget, Frejdá… Who do you think it was that set up the savings account exclusively in my name in Mahakam far from the machinations of other family members? She was an aging grandmother desperate to see a granddaughter in her progeny after nearly a dozen grandsons were born one after the other. A little…princess…of her own, so to speak. So, she took 10% of her estate's total assets, mostly liquid thank the Gods, and set up a fund exclusively tied to whoever that first granddaughter happened to be. That way, she could dote on and spoil them like a grandmother should from beyond the tomb which was soon to be upon her. The year she passed is when Topaz and I made our move to the Witchers as she was the only one with absolute authority over the terms and conditions of the account. Once she died, all jurisdiction fell into my name by default as her extensive stipulations demanded across dozens of legal documents signed both in Yonderland and Mahakam. Of course…little could she have guessed what I was to do with all that coin that she was so kind as to set aside for Topaz and I…”

“Huh…and here I always assumed you had stolen the relevant documents pertaining to that particular account when you made your grand exit from the Ducal Palace…”

“Oh no, I did steal documents like that pertaining to several other smaller accounts that I knew I could get away with. I knew the Pygmy wouldn’t press bank fraud charges against me given the account holder for each of those accounts was technically whomever possessed the documentation as long as they were of direct Ducal descent. They were…shall we say, repositories for kingly-sized bribes which could also double as ransom funds if someone reignited yet another petty spat within the Ducal Family. Seeing as I held the documents and was the immediate daughter of the Duke himself…the bank felt no need to parse over irrelevant specifics on everything and allowed the transfer of funds to occur after I let them take their contractual cut of the money. I drained and closed all the accounts, paid the appropriate taxes and filled the leagues-worth of requisite forms so Yonderland would have no legal recourse to stand on if they tried suing for their money back. It…admittedly strained relations between Mahakam and San Palégiorno for a time…yet nothing more than a brief war of import/export tariffs ever came of it. Coin has a want to migrate in wealthy countries and before the next year was out, business as usual returned in full swing between them. At this point…I've outlasted essentially everyone who openly knows about my...expanded inheritance shall we say. Yonderland itself is quick to forget the past if it suits the needs of the now and the coin I pilfered that day has undoubtedly been replaced tenfold since then through their vast sources of revenue.”

“Why do you still kill them then? Your extended family that is. Everyone you grew up with, or were in some way raised by, have long-since given up the ghost decades ago. Are you that intent upon destroying the entire Duchy one noble at a time? Their wealth and debauchery notwithstanding, they form part of the social structure of the entire country and national identity. Take out too many of them faster than new ones can claim their titles and you could destabilize the region forcing Celestia to take away that semblance of self-governance they have enjoyed for so long… It is one of the few nations where the accumulation of wealth of any notable sort can turn the average mare or stallion into a Count or Countessa if they are lucky enough. Knights Errant and even common Mares-at-Arms have been inducted into the lower ranks of the nobility for acts of valor in the line of duty. Not that it has happened too many times throughout history…but it is still something interesting regarding your former kin. I cannot help but give a modicum of respect towards that social mobility as it is far from common in Equestrian holdings by any conceivable margin.”

“The Duchy can freeze in Hel for an eternity for as far as I care about it all…” She huffed angrily with a frown. “But to answer your question again, it is because of the saying, ‘like father, like son’. Or, ‘like mother, like daughter’. All these inbred idiots know is their own narrow view of the world as told by the upper echelons of society and their enormous echo-chamber. They look up to their elders and wish to be like them with the wealth and power and influence they wield upon the social circles of Yonderland’s elite. Family business remains family business with the only goal of the rising generation being to outclass their ancestors in terms of wealth and prestige. And why wouldn’t they? They have only each other and the royalty of other Kingdoms to contend with for attention and recognition. A scant few are quite honorable at heart and merely tend to their holdings as able-minded caretakers of their lands and the people assigned to work it…yet there's hardly enough of them out there to redeem the House of De La Croix wholesale. I leave those noble hearts alone as I've no qualm with the concept or possession of wealth itself, but with those who would use it at the great expense of others, particularly those immediately beneath them. I want to take from them what they love most in this world. I want every punishable bastard I can lay my hooves on to suffer an early death if I'm able, like they have forced their victims to endure, inadvertent or not. The Royal Cabal is bloated like a drowned pig on a summer's day wandering the Xanthus Desert…it can stand to trim off excessive amounts of that unwanted fat without destroying the nation. Like you said, new names will rise to take their place. We need only keep pruning until the bulk of the tree is clean and for the welfare of every branch and every root.”

“Why? I understand your personal reasons all too well, Violet…yet you speak as if they have all committed some unforgivable sin you simply cannot help but distribute justice for. To what end are all these killings? Should I start to worry about finding a stack of 4a’s in your possession?”

“Like Lady fuckin’ Annamarie would even draft such a Contract? Please, Frejdá…maybe just a little I feel something primally satisfying about doing this…but I do it because it simply has to be done. Yonderland has all the time and money it needs to engage in carnal distractions as can be bought, sold and indulged with reckless abandon. I don’t seek to end the De La Croix line…I merely want to cleanse the name, my name, by removing the worst examples of the depravity my thrice-damned extended family insists on perpetuating. I know it is a task that will never be over…yet even a bit of pruning can do a dying tree a load of good if you know which branches to remove. Even if nothing overtly changes within the Duchy from my actions…I can know that those silently suffering their individual acts of evil are not unduly suffering any longer. Call me evil if you wish…yet I would have to extend that label unto you as well for all you’ve done in helping me with this continued ploy of ours. Are you only just now getting cold hooves about it all?”

“Hardly…I just needed to hear it from you directly as to what your true intentions are with all of this. I’ve helped because I have been able to agree with your verdict that those vile bastards were worth infinitely more dead than alive for all those beneath them who had to suffer their abuse. I simply do not wish to be a cog in some grand fratricidal scheme of revenge for past sins committed against you directly over a century ago, in a time wherein all those perpetrators were all still alive and breathing. Old wounds can fester and ooze something fierce if not properly treated…”

“Indeed. And the only remedy that will solve this infection is full excision of the diseased tissue. If an entire leg or two must be lost in order to save the rest of the body…that is merely the cost of positive progress. I’ve no rights nor privileges within Yonderland anymore so it isn’t like I could take these bastards before the Ducal Court and take legal action against them like they were some common criminal. And that is all assuming the Court even bothered to hear my case, let alone review the evidence no matter how compelling it was. If anything, I would be handing them incriminating evidence which would be swiftly destroyed due to how interwoven their web of evil has become. There is little separation of powers within Yonderland as the nobility fills all positions of power and influence save the lowliest which they reserve for wealthy merchants and wealthy scholars. The courts would never, ever rule in our favor against them.”

“Honestly, it is safest to just assume the Justices would likewise caught with their trousers down in the chaos and have a vested interest in shutting down the entire case to save their own skin and those closest to them.” Topaz chimed in just as the faint spell bubble of white around us began to falter and fade requiring another casting.

“Exactly!” Violet nodded vigorously in reply, “Regardless…I just want these bastards dead because the world would simply be a better place without them. You know I don’t ever target anyone less than the worst the De La Croix family has to offer…do you trust me enough to believe in me again?”

“Hmph…barely…” I sighed as I sagged my shoulders in defeat. "Yes...but know I am not happy with any of this..."

“Good enough for me…” She sighed back whilst getting back up to her hooves. “Will you take up the torch on this crusade of mine? Once Topaz and I fully decide to go, we won’t be able to make it all the way westward in time to make our window in Misty Meadows. You heard the Council for yourself, it’s now or never and I don’t have the time to go off and try to do it myself and then attempt to find a smuggler’s route south out of Equestria… Word in Trottingham spreads even faster than it does around the Valley when it comes to issues on the fringes and they will have the entire border locked down tight within a couple of days. At that point, we would be better off making for the coast and just swimming south until we hit Silverfish hamlet. With Lion’s Redoubt so close to Misty Meadows though…I expect border restrictions on the Equestrian side to be overseen by the Witch Hunters themselves, particularly with a ranking Yonderlandian noble traveling within the region. If they aren’t providing some level of personal security for their guest, they will beyond a doubt be bolstering the number and strength of all secondary bodily defenses. Unfortunate…but a clean chance to strike is still a chance we are willing to take.”

“Ah yes…as if I was asked for my opinion on all of this before it was just…assumed that I would…” I groaned tiredly as vague visions of the Hunters’ pompous white-and-gold robes and armor came to mind. “It isn't like you are even providing me much in the way of choices in the matter…”

“Unfortunately there aren’t many choices to begin with now that this shite stew has been dumped all over our plans at the last second. I could try and send a Zamak to Asik but it has been months since I have last had contact with him so for all I know, he could be wandering about the Quetzal Jungles or the Kitsune Mountains on another vision-quest! Even a trained Zamak would be hard-pressed to locate him in a timely manner normally, let alone with the adventurous life he leads without Topaz or I… Most of my other personal contacts are scattered in Yonderland itself and I couldn’t hope to bribe my friends in the Scouts Elite to engage in some extrajudicial fratricide on my behalf, let alone inside a walled Equestrian city so damned close to the Redoubt. And if we miss this window, sure there's a chance to ambush them up on the High Road…but even I can say that's in poor taste after what just happened to our own delegation. Who knows when he or any other Yonderlandian will leave the safety of the homeland again? I…have done too much work in Yonderland itself and they are all the more wary for it. This is our best chance in six years to strike out again and I don't want to waste it! They are far enough away from the borderlands to only warrant a temporary conscription of extra hooves for town watch so the number of Mares-at-Arms should be within predictable limits for a walled city on a river with a royal charter backing their name.”

“That’s around some ten-score armored heads for a city that size…” I muttered in reply as I swiftly ran the numbers through my head. “Possibly even twelve or thirteen with your ex-Chief Minister coming to town, along with whatever Yonderlandian muscle he is likely bringing along with him. Those are…not ideal numbers dammit...”

“Absolutely not! Which is why I was hoping to make contact with a baker in Misty Meadows to smuggle in just a wee sample of your Venom into the castle kitchens. We used to frequent that city whenever we wished to train in urban navigation, or just needed shite lil’ places like Seaward Shoals couldn’t provide the School. I chatted up the mare who ran the place all the time back in the day and I would have even called her a friend for all those hours she had spent listening to me ramble on and on about…well…nothing really. Her daughter was slated to inherit the place to continue the tradition and they should hopefully remember me and Tope. Of course, the last time we saw them was some twenty, thirty years ago…but they were still very friendly on that occasion and could prove useful allies as they are one of four bakeries which serve the local castle. You could ask for a worse potential avenue to work with.”

“I…I would rather not involve any others who may end up as unnecessary deaths upon my conscience…” I replied, knowing that I was essentially inferring that I had already agreed to do this for her. “I will rather…figure out something on my own that will not have to involve anyone else but myself. I just do not wish to risk someone else’s life for something like this, it's not right.”

“I'll take this to mean you're saying yes, you'll kill the sonovabitch for us?” She asked hopefully with a glance towards Topaz who likewise looked softly pleased with what she was hearing.

“At this point…fuck it, yes. If only because you're a good friend and this is an exceedingly unusual circumstance.”

“Oh common, are you not even the smallest bit excited to test your agility and tactics against a sluggish Sentient? I know it's wrong to say, but damn it all the money is just too damned easy when it's like that. Monsters at least can defend themselves more often than not, even when cornered and wounded. Fat fucks like the guy you're going to be after are a fucking walk in the Gardens compared to your usual fights. It's all in making it past their hired muscle and best-laid traps. Nothing beats the terror in their eyes as they realize you made it past every one of their defenses and they can't even do themselves the honor of fighting their Fate with their sword by their side…oh the pitiful bastards. I'd pity them further were it not for how pathetic they are when stripped of their ability to command others to do their dirty work. The begging and bargaining they attempt in order to avert the inevitable is…Gods I fucking hate having to listen to it. To be frank, it is exactly why I prefer using proxies, outside of covering my own ass. It's the ones that get their hooves dirty themselves and actually excel physically that are the real tricky ones and have to be handled more personally. They tend to be armed and capable of both far keener senses as well as typically being able to defend themselves. They're also usually insulated with a better retinue of personal guards as they tend to care more for their years ahead than the old and slow ones whose usefulness and youthful years are behind them. If anything, the guards are what make it more interesti-...”

“This is all very interesting…” I sighed with some disdain as she enjoyed this conversation a little too much for my orthodox preferences. “But unlike you, this will be my first time doing something like this. Brewing up a Venom for you to use in such a manner is one matter, having me perform the act myself is entirely another. I recognize that the bastard is likely very worthy of death, but why must I be forced to take pleasure in this? Where is the skill needed to slaughter some oversized Equestrian lapdog who likely couldn't even see his own cock between his legs from around the girth of his belly? That skill is scarcely anywhere to be found in that situation, outside of navigating any of the barriers, physical or not, placed around them. In case you haven't already learned for yourself, I prefer a straight fight over any amount of sneaking around as it means I earn myself a target-rich environment for my Fangs to enjoy.”

“Fuck it all up and you'll have the fight of your life with that strong of a standing garrison on station.” She countered with a grim laugh and a smirk. “But in all seriousness…please refrain if you would. We all may have some qualities of the species our Schools are named after, yet I doubt even a serpent could outrun or outmaneuver two hundred armored guards with halberds. A Cat perhaps…but we were trained and conditioned extensively in swift navigation of urban environments. A crowded city like that will not be lacking options for evasion and escape if you're clever enough to see the opportunities around you like they taught us.”

“Hey, give Kaer Nathair some benefit of the doubt on this matter. We were called upon just as frequently as the Cats to Hunt the backstreets and gutters of big cities and towns. I've had to climb more than my fair share of buildings and crawled my arse through more drainage ditches, cisterns and open sewer systems than I care to mention… I would hardly call myself uninitiated in urban navigation...”

“And yet none of that was done while chasing down another Sentient outside of maybe the Race Wars, but you were always on the battlefields as you like to go on and on about. These are totally different Hunts, top to bottom. The rules and tactics have to be far more flexible and adaptable to on-the-spot changes in the environment and behavior of your target amongst the behaviors of everyone else around them who aren't involved but can very easily get in the way. Arranged battles between clashing hosts of swords is another beast entirely that shares few similarities with something like this. Your actions and movements have to be purposely hushed and subtle…rather than bellowing a war cry and flailing your Fangs about at everything that moves unless you want to cause alarm bells to ring out across the whole damned city.”

“So I would assume…yet some of us happen to lack such pre-existing firsthoof knowledge on the matter outside what you have already mentioned…”

“Hey, I cannot be blamed that 4a’s are easy work that usually pays well. You think I'm the bitch who invented them to begin with?”

“No, but you seem to enjoy them a bit too much for my taste.”

“Yeah, because you're a fucking relic Frejdá. The world has changed a lot since your old ass was born…what, a thousand years ago?”

“Hah…if only…I was born after the Arrival, arsehole. By a good century and a quarter at that.”

“My point still stands that you're old as shit, Frejdá. You're stubbornly adhering to a world that hasn't existed in centuries and you're holding yourself back with that fact. If you can agree with me that 4a’s can be used to righteously weed the communal garden of parasitic weeds, you can bring yourself to do some gardening of your own. You can't keep your hooves clean of dirt and help another veteran gardener out forever you know."

“Like I am some common criminal? Please Vi…I value my self-respect too highly for that. You dirtied your hooves before we even met so you continuing to do so is not as…staining if you would.”

“Staining? You mean like a ream of fabric? Sure, we can use a linen metaphor if you don't like my use of a garden allegory… So by that metric are you trying to say that you are some pristine, bleached-white rag free from all stains?”

“A well-used rag covered in stains perhaps…but the Sentient blood staining my Soul was spilled in self-defense and open warfare where personal survival is top priority and a moral grey-zone exists for most who participate. I have never killed someone outside of those notable exceptions as are allowed by the Witcher's Code, let alone for money or personal ideals of justice and fairness. I may be stained...but I have a clear conscience for my past actions, unlike you two."

“Well, welcome to the rebellion then.” She laughed tiredly before rubbing her eyes again with a sigh. “Ugh…fuckin’ exhausted… I know I am asking you to compromise your high-and-mighty integrity…yet at least you're doing it for a good cause, right? You could just be doing it because you're a psychopath who loves killing, but you're not.”

“Somehow I am far from comforted by any of that…” I muttered back with a hint of ice in my tone.

“Then don't be for all the shits that I have to give you. A gardener's work is never over so long as the garden is alive and you've already agreed to help keep it that way, if but for this one wily weed of ours.”

“I simply hate you sometimes, Violet…”

“Thanks! Join the long line of people that feel the same as you, if not infinitely more. Just let me know when you too want to tear most of them apart limb-from-limb to end their reigns of terror. Maybe then you'll have a better appreciation for the grim work we've been chipping away at for the last hundred years.”

“I think I'd prefer not to know that feeling. I suspect those chosen for death in that party are far from the type of pleasant people I would wish to know in any sort of capacity.”

“Then why the fuck are you so resistant to killing one of them? You said it yourself! All of these arseholes are irredeemable refuse fit for rotting in the gutter under their blasted Sun. Witchers are made to kill monsters wherever they arise to harm the innocent, we should not allow some ancient Code prevent justice being meted out simply because that same monster happens to be a fucking Sentient…”

“I could be branded Anathema if this goes wrong! Does that not absolutely petrify you with fear and apprehension as much as it does me??”

“No…? Together, Topaz and I have removed twenty-nine rotten De La Croix apples from the family tree, and yet, we have managed to keep our Medallions and positions with nary a complaint from Tiffy, let alone the Council. It's called living a double-life. Plenty of nobles engage in it, why not we if it's in the name of justice? The laws of the land can't touch them, the courts and armed soldiers are in their pockets at their beck and call…and using those insulators, they do as they please. What they do in public is nothing compared to their little universe of intrigue they maintain between themselves in private. Someone has to act. Why not we?”

“Because murdering like this just inherently wrong…?”

“Murder? By a mere technicality, sure…but you yourself have called them monsters from the depths of your Soul with all the passion needed to move someone like me to tears, and don't you deny it. Unless you want me to bring that whoreson up again one more time just to truly hammer the point home to you…”

She had me there… I had done such a thing more than once in response to her long-winded stories recalling these bastards each and every sin…yet one time in particular, the one she had just mentioned, had elicited more emotions from me than normal. Even when trying not to bring it back to mind, I could not help but catch images of that recounting flashing like dim falling stars across the fringes of unwanted memories. I had gone to lengths to detach the entire experience from my remembrance…yet I could still remember far too many details without a moment's hesitation. A whole family targeted by a young lurid, depraved blue-blooded stallion with a posse of like-minded degenerates of a similar age. Rape, humiliations, and torture the likes of which even the Witch Hunters would pause to take notes on with rabid interest. There was also something particularly gruesome involving the family well near a small tool shed… And horrific post-mortem mutilations with strewn body parts, organs and blood across an entire league's length of the High Road before they ran out of corpses to strew. It took much to render my stomach queasy after witnessing the countless grotesque scenes of slaughter I had seen for myself, yet it was unbridled evil such as that which simply held no logical place in this world. Evil…was a deviously fluid term, perhaps even too fluid for such a diverse concept which could be argued to be inherently a spectrum of lesser-to-greater sins. Opinions can vary wildly regarding its definition and as to whom and what it applied to; as to where the dividing line between the moral-grey of everyday living and the fine contrast of universally black-and-white decisions. Every living Soul seemed capable of some form of evil in some capacity or another and indeed, most living would indulge it more than once over the course of their lives. Conscious sin was inevitably and unfortunately an inheritance that came by-default with the gift of Sentience. A Feral, no matter how rabid and mad, was not inherently capable of true evil as they were ultimately the victims of their own instincts and their natural reaction to external stimuli beyond their knowledge or control. But Sentient beings had a responsibility to one another that some would happily flaunt for the sake of a cheap thrill. And like any vice, they would become hopelessly addicted to an indulgence in evil after evil until the world itself was used up and they still yet craved more. Indeed…some so-called ‘people’ living in gowns of silk and castles of stone were worse than even the cruelest of Daemons by their own petty volition.

“No need to bring him up in the least…” I shuddered in response. “So how does this ex-Chief Minister compare to such an abysmal goalpost?”

“Out of ten? A firm seven.” Topaz answered for me. “The bastard has a kill count as well…murdered his first wife and has knowingly abandoned at least three illegitimate foals in the forests to avoid having an open feud with Duchess Antoinette's immediate family. Last I heard, he's been sleeping with his twin cousins but I've not had any solid proof of that as of yet. And there is simply no telling how many lives have been ruined by the Fisstech he smuggles in… He sells it only to other elites, but like the nation's wealth, it trickles it's way down the social ladder into the average pony’s household. Most everyone will develop an addiction if you allow them to, regardless of whatever it is or if it is legal or not. That demand ensures he continues to earn a fortune even after resigning from his post as Chief Minister…and that same post ensures he has all the contacts needed to run his growing little empire.”

“Alright...I'll concede. You've made your case…” I sighed as one of many possible definitions for a Sentient monster was listed aloud for me. “And all of this he inherited from his own father you say?”

“Yes, and he from his father and so forth for a good few generations until you get far enough back to where Yonderland just doesn't even exist on the map. This shite goes back as long as the country itself and has a far more intense history.”

“So it would seem…very well…take me through any plans you have already made and I will see what I can do with them. It has also been a few decades since I have been to Misty Meadows…I hope the place hasn't changed too much since then.”

“Hate to be the continual bearer of bad news, but Tope and I were there not even a decade ago on a quick jaunt to the coast and the city’s exploded since before the Cleansing. And not for the better either… Slums surround the city walls and fill the inside anywhere there's space, so who knows what it'll look like these days… If you can, try to find a small bakery shop called ‘The Gilded Lily' in the River District near the docks. Hyssop was a crafty, money-savvy mare and her daughter was being raised with much the same attitude and mentality, I would be appalled if her granddaughter failed to carry on the tradition.”

“How do you even know she has a granddaughter at all?”

“Well, Hyssop’s daughter Nutmeg was courting a handsome colt when last I was there and their marriage was all-but-assured. In case you forgot, everything has the want to fuck and pass on its genes so unless shite went awry, I'd like to assume she's got some family still running the place and keeping it alive. The place has always been run by the mares in their family so I doubt anything has changed on that front.”

“So the best you have for me is conjecture as far as this ‘contact’ of yours is concerned…?” I asked with incredulousness. “Based on the assumption that the place is still in business by virtue of a grandchild who hasn't even been confirmed to exist? Please tell me that is not your one and only resource for me in that damned city…”

“What sort of a third-rate miscreant do you take me for?” She asked with mock surprise at my audacity. “Hardly darling, I've been paying a couple of the Scouts Elite to maintain a temporary presence in the area to keep me apprised of all changes to the city during the lead-up to Count Montague’s arrival. One's a Nightkin by the name of Androma, she's been shadowing their movements across the High Road since they left Yonderland and the other is a Unicorn by the name of Autumn Harvest. He's taken a temporary gig as a dockhoof unloading ships in port while on an official temporary leave from actively working for the Scouts. He absolutely despises having to perform physical labor on his allotted time off…but he's being paid decently by the port authority on top of the price I'm already paying him; half up-front, and the other half when the fucker kicks over the stool so-to-speak. He won't be able or particularly willing to assist you physically with anything, aside from perhaps acting as a place to stash your Witcher gear so you don't stand out so much. Outside of that, information is all he's been paid to collect and I do not blame him for a moment in not wanting anything more to do with this whole debacle. He only needs to do what I'm paying him for anyway, so going above and beyond is absolutely on his own volition.”

“Autumn Harvest huh? And I take it you will send both of them a message informing them of the sudden change in plans?”

“I've already made out the note last night, we just need to send it.” Topaz commented as she raised a sealed roll of paper from her satchel. “He will be far from pleased…but you can make use of any intelligence he's gathered on the city and its garrison. We expect a Zamak from Androma any day now with a full accounting of Montague and his entire retinue but she won't enter nor approach the city due to her race. Unfortunately, you'll be doing it all alone in there.”

“I’ll manage… What of the castle? I do not particularly recall theirs being a sizable keep, but then again I have never been beyond the rank shores of its disgusting moat. For all I know it could be a mess of baileys and postern doors beyond those walls…”

“Unfortunately the castle relies exclusively on hired muscle out of Asgarnia…a professional mercenary company called the Spears of the Coast. And before you ask the obvious question, no. They cannot be bought once the signet ring has been pressed into the wax on their contract. I've tried twice now over the past three years and both middle-mares I sent with instructions and a bribe were gutted and hung by the neck outside the castle gates... I'd admire the bastard's dedication to the job if they weren't the ones standing in our way. You can always try Axii if you're feeling adventurous, but their zeal to their contract is top-notch if you can't already tell. I doubt you would get very far with just a plain old Sign, even with a dozen Glyphs in your pocket to back it up.”

“Ah yes, commit another violation of the Witcher's Code by using Axii on another Sentient for non-Hunt-related purposes. Fuck the entire Codex, you are just taking a fat piss over the entire guild at this point with this line of thinking you have going for yourself…”

“Well don't you too start pissing on my parade then, I'm doing the best I can here. That being said…you might actually find Axii deadly useful out there when you need things. The gutters and alleyways hear and see almost all that goes on amidst their cities…the whispers they hear are mostly junk, but many golden nuggets of truth can be found if you know where to look. Not to mention they house all manner of feeble-minded vagrants who can prove useful as…shall we say…courier services and fodder. Have you ever been to a Court of Miracles before?”

“As pompous as it all makes me sound…no, I try not to engage with the local squalor if I can help it. That is something Rosemary and I share in common, even if I would argue our individual feelings on the matter differ by several levels of degree. That said, I cannot help but adhere to a high degree of personal cleanliness and prefer more sanitary company…”

“So you've never actually deigned to ever once get cozy with a city’s rank underbelly?”

“Outside of stumbling across their huddled camps and various shenanigans during a sewer Hunt…no. I leave them well enough alone as I try to avoid infesting myself with lice and other biting insects…”

“Quen can solve a lot of problems for you then…as long as they don't see you casting it repeatedly just to be able to stand their presence. It may behoove you to acquire several Glyph Stones attuned to Quen so it lasts longer between casts. It won't do much for the smell…but you've probably smelt worse. Either way, any town or city with bowels and back alleys will have a Court where the lowliest of society hold community with one another out of the sight of the law. They are about what you'd expect of such a place…but they've always been my first stop for information, hired muscle and ignorant folks who’d sell their own mother for a few Crowns or a whiff of Fisstech. It ain't pretty or very honest work…but you cannot piss on efficiency when it comes to this sort of shite. They teach us Witchers to make use of whatever tools are at our disposal as they are there to be used. As long as you don't actively try to get them killed or imprisoned, you can come back a decade later and the citizens of the Court will welcome you with open arms. Dead useful they can be to those who toss a coin their way with a simple job to keep them busy. And if it's to fuck over a noble directly? Well…you'll likely find willing volunteers who'd love nothing more than to sink a knife into one of their precious golden hides.”

“I…suppose I can take all of that into consideration…” I muttered in reply as I mulled over the idea of seeking out Misty Meadows underworld for assistance. “You are clearly better suited to this sort of thing than I am…”

“Better suited?” She scoffed with a hearty laugh. “Frejdá, you are just as capable of this sort of thing as I am. I've only had the chance to practice at it like any other skill we've had to learn to get to where we are now. We all start somewhere and everyone has their first go of things.”

“Either way you wish to put it, I have no wish to garner any sort of practice in this line of work… I find it detestable and highly unsatisfying.”

“Well, don't knock it till you try it as they say! Regardless, I am going to pay you beautifully for this, don't you worry! And even if your moral pride gets in the way of you accepting it, I am just going to be forcefully depositing it into your account with the Treasury anyway. You deserve a hefty weight of gold for doing this for me, on top of what you've already done. Though…I would ask you just take the damn money when it's offered and deposit it yourself as Annamarie is likely to ask why I am suddenly depositing a heap of Crowns into your account immediately after the death of a Yonderlandian noble in Equestrian territory.”

“Excluding the fact I could just wait until the smoke has cleared to request it from you, the point of this Venom I made for you was to ensure a large window of time in order to escape before it took effect.”

“O-oh…? Elaborate…?”

“I extracted the Voidkissed digitoxins of the Foxglove blossom I harvested and infused them into the Venom, along with activated Vyre Dust and some other Dark-touched items as a binding agent. The Foxglove will trigger an abnormal heart rhythm while the Vyre Dust-”

“Replenishes their vitality for a short time in the background acting like a lit fuse…that is…wow. That is actually pure genius, Fredjá.”

“Well I am glad you at least recognize it in some capacity!” I snickered softly before I continued, “Thank you. And yes, that is exactly the idea. That effect could be far better curated had it time to age with additional cleanings and distillations. As it is now in the bottle…I would give it around half-an-hour to take full effect if I were to introduce it directly into the bloodstream via a poisoned dart. Twice that if it is ingested in any way. Not a heap of time to work with, but it's better than the usual time-to-effect for this kind of work.”

This time it was Violet's turn to laugh as she seemingly could not hold back the tide of giggles built up within her over my statement. Evidently, she had some rather strong opinions on the matter.

“Well that's usually because the poison needs to work quickly or an antidote can be formulated on the spot and drunk to nullify it before it can kill. Now, that would be fine if they were some common knob without a copper to their name as they would die before a physician could attend to them. But a Yonderlandian noble with coin enough to flaunt is absolutely going to have a personal Mage or some other Arcane artisan nearby on a short leash. Those crafty shites can neutralize most poisons with spellwork alone, not to mention what they'd be capable of curing if they haul an Alchemy set around with them like we do.”

“Aye, but this is no common poison by any stretch of the imagination. The heart attack is what I intend to shine out amongst the other possible symptoms but there are several other toxic agents in there that could all kill him just as easily. Regardless, this brew is beyond anything they would be familiar with, if they are even able to detect it at all. After all, the intent is for the bastard to keel over dead from a natural-looking heart attack and for the corpse to say as much during the autopsy. Unfortunately…there is always a healthy dose of the unknown and those ingredients I added such as the Warped Basilisk Venom and Deathbells…there is a sizable chance either one of them may sink their fangs into his body independent of the digitoxins. If that were to happen...I think I don't need to mention just how obvious it would be he was assassinated.”

“Don't tell me you're doubting your own product now…”

“No, I am definitely confident this will kill anything that breathes. My doubt lies in exactly how it will do so. The digitoxins were to be released slowly over time from the violet silver nitre by reacting with the activated Vyre Dust over an extended period of time as it was processed by the liver. Their interaction would promote the artificial vitality we seek while allowing the digitoxins to seep deep into his bloodstream and flush the heart. However…because this brew is so young, I have not had the chance to ensure the individual items forming the Dark substrate I required will not leech their own effects into the victim as well. I think it goes without saying that Basilisk Venom and Deathbells would both result in a much more violent and visible death than a mere heart attack. This is all hypothetical of course… no one has exactly tried this recipe on a Sentient before, let alone extensively tested it on the same. We are sailing through uncharted waters with this one.”

“Well…I suppose you can consider yourself a true pioneer of Alchemical science! Paladin Thistle would be proud were we able to actually admit any of this to his fucking face...”

“Not that I would shirk such an honor, yet I was hoping for it to be in a line of study which didn't involve assassination…”

“Gotta deal with the cards you're dealt sometimes…especially now as the bet is stacked against us from multiple angles. We've got some high-stakes players at this table and we need all the aces up our sleeves as we can fuckin' hide.”

“You are relying on a horrifically bad mare for such a high-stakes game of cards like this…”

“No need to remind me, I stopped inviting you over for a round when it struck me how absolutely terrible you are behind a shuffled deck. But thankfully for you, this isn't your average deck of cards and a pot o’ gold isn't on the line at the end of the game. Well…there is going to be a lot of gold, yes, but that's because I insist on paying you some more on top of what I already have for your troubles with me. Regardless, this is something you are more than adequately prepared for, Frejdá. If you can make it this far walking the Witcher's Path and all the dangers involved…I would be embarrassed to know you if you couldn't pull something as simple as this off. Slither like the serpent you are inside and wriggle your way into that damn castle and kill that sonovabitch! It'll be easier than Hunting a pack of Werewolves!”

“The two are hardly comparable…”

“And yet you're still going to find out all the same. It'll be easy money for you and I won't ask you to dip your hooves into it again unless you want to.”

“Trust me, Vi…I am in absolutely no hurry here to rush forth and take you up on such a tempting offer…”

* * * * * * * * *