Chapter 12 - Bittersweet Reunion
*****
I held up the looter by the collar. "Where is she?" I roared into his face.
The fear in his eyes would have made me laugh at any other time. "I swear I don't know, sir. We just know she's not here. So the house was easy pickings."
I dragged him closer to my face. "Well when did she leave then?" I growled, "And who's responsible for all this mess? Do I need to make an example of you and your friend here?"
"Ragnar, they're just looters," Geralt stated.
"She's... She's missing, Geralt." Then I sighed and let the looter go, hearing his body slap back on the ground. "Go. Just go. Get out of here."
The two looters eventually got up. The one I had been holding helping up the other, who I'd knocked out. "Look... Um... Sir..." I met the eyes of the one I'd just been interrogating. "If you're sorceress friend has managed to escape, try the Putrid Grove."
I glanced at Geralt. "Never heard of it."
"We only heard the name ourselves. Place of freaks and oddities."
"How do I get there?"
The two looters shared a glance. Realising I might just start swinging again, they shared a nod. "Ask a beggar. Or spot yourself a thief, follow him... Beggars and thieves gotta pay tribute to the King of Beggars. Word is they do it in the Grove."
"She must be in hiding, Ragnar. Only reason she'd be there instead of here," Geralt stated.
"Temple Guard has been cracking down on everyone," the looter added, "Mages are fair game right now."
"That's right, and that's the just start of what the Eternal Fire will eventually consume," stated a voice, turning around to see the same man who'd led the burnings in the square approach, flanked by a pair of witch hunters. One of the looters stated the man approaching was called Menge. Name meant nothing to me. Before he talked to us, he had the looters arrested and taken towards the 'confession chamber'. Even I didn't like the sound of that, the two looters begging for mercy as they were hauled away by a pair of regular city guard.
Once we had privacy, Menge turned his attention to us. Or, to be accurate, Geralt. "You know a bat can sniff out a moth a mile away?"
"Got nothing to do with their sense of smell. It's about their hearing," Geralt retorted, earning a smirk from yours truly. Loved it when he got sarcastic with people like Menge. I had him figured out already.
"Well, well... Man knows his bats. Here I thought you only cared about monsters. But I know your trade. Spotted those yellow eyes amidst the rabble in the square right away. Did you notice how much common folk love flames? The Eternal Fire will consume them all one day, one way or another."
"You're all fucking insane," I stated, earning a withering glance from him.
"You, witcher, I will issue a warning. Novigrad is no place for your kind. Sooner or later, you will cause trouble. But times are different. The city is under my protection. Mine and the Eternal Fire's."
"What about me?" I asked.
"Don't know who you are. But if you're with him, no doubt you're trouble too. So the same warning applies. Novigrad will soon only be home to righteous folk professing the one true faith in the Eternal Fire."
"So you're choosing to rule through fear with a slice of supposed religious fervour? Gotcha," I stated.
"Nothing I can do to you now, but just know that I know you're here. One misstep, one error. You'll make a mistake, it's inevitable. I'll be the first to learn it. And when I do, it'll be standard procedure. Like for every other magic oddity who dares taint this city's air." Smug bastard then just grinned at us. "Be seeing you."
Once Menge and his guards disappeared, Geralt suggested we search the place for clues. I didn't like going through her things but the urge to find her overwhelmed any other thoughts. I let him do his thing, though I certainly recognised more than one thing. The perfume she always wore. An amulet that Geralt sensed was magical. And also a particular necklace I'd given her so long ago now. I made sure to pocket that in the event someone else decided to turn up and take it.
We agreed to find the Putrid Grove immediately. Finding ourselves talking to beggar after beggar, some were lame, some were crazy, some were war veterans. Those I asked particular question, wondering if they were lying. Those I knew were not I gave more than one coin, shaking their hands, wishing them well. "You served?" they would ask quietly.
"Long live Temeria," I would whisper back, "The lilies will bloom and fly once again." More than one shed a tear as I took their hands in mine and wished them well. It wasn't just their bodies that had broken. Many had lost their minds. All had lost their spirit. I knew I was one of the lucky ones having lived through the same as them.
But none of the beggars proved helpful, either too afraid to help, while others were surprisingly brave, suggesting the 'King of Beggars' could fuck off and do one. I'll admit that Geralt and I both chuckled more than once, hearing a beggar puff himself up, all brave, when stating such ideas like the King shoving coppers up his arse, one at a time.
Giving up on the beggars, Geralt suggested we observe the square and look out for thieves. I knew he meant a pickpocket, as no doubt the market was full of them. We had been watching for all of twenty minutes when Geralt gave me the signal, following him as he followed the thief. He led us on a winding path, and I was soon feeling rather lost, keeping Geralt in sight as I knew he wouldn't lose the thief, not with all his tracking skills and senses.
I swear the thief must have known, leading us on a circuitous route of Novigrad, but he eventually arrived at a door, knocking and whispering a few words, handing over a bag of coin, before he turned and disappeared. I let Geralt approach the door first, to use his usual charm to get us through.
Neither of us knew the password, so they demanded coin to enter. It wasn't a surprise, and we certainly had coin to spare nowadays, so we handed over what the guard demanded before he finally opened up and let us in. Of course, as soon as we were inside, he demanded we hand over our weapons as well. Neither of us liked the idea of being anywhere unarmed, but particularly in such places where we didn't know the lay of the land, nor who was inhabiting such land. But if we didn't, we'd just be told to piss off, so we handed them over and pointed in the direction of the King of Beggars.
There was a smell about the place that certainly earned its name. And the desperation in the air was something else entirely. The King of Beggars may have made his home there, maybe, but there was nothing around to show that the tribute he took had contributed to a better life for anyone.
Walking inside the house, there was a bald man behind a desk and a red haired woman before him. I recognised the voice before she even turned around. I came to a stop, Geralt glancing back to look at my face. I needed a moment to compose myself. Our presence was noted by the King, who Geralt announced as Francis Bedlam. No idea how they knew each other. Didn't rightly care at that moment, my eyes only for one person in particular.
I had thought and even dreamed of our reunion. I was realistic enough to know it wouldn't be like something people would hear in Dandelion's sonnets. And while I wouldn't say Triss was cold, she didn't exactly come running up towards me as I slowly walked towards her. Instead, she turned and watched me walked towards her. I wanted to do many, many things to her then and there. But when I leaned down to kiss her, she turned away. I stopped before I kissed her cheek.
"Oh..."
"Not the fairy tale you were hoping for, Ragnar?" Bedlam asked.
"Know who I am?"
He laughed. "Course I fucking do. Heard all about you from her, of course. But my people have been observing you and your white haired friend since you crossed the bridge." He turned to Geralt. "I was wondering if you would track me down, witcher. Your tall and lumbering oaf of a friend here does stand out a bit, though."
Triss had turned away from me by now, so I took a few steps back and leaned against a wall, folding my arms and listened to the conversation. I picked up a few things that interested me as they conversed. Definitely a few things worth remembering for later. I had arrived simply hoping to find Triss, while helping Geralt find Ciri. But just like Velen, Novigrad was a mess of conspiracies, and I was already left feeling we were going to find ourselves involved in them.
"City Council is a puppet troupe with the hierarchy of the Church of the Eternal Fire as its puppeteer. Until recently, that is, when Radovid and his witch hunters took the reins. The semblance of power don't interest me."
"Hang on," I said, "I thought this was still a 'free city'?"
He laughed at me for that, so that answered my question. I guess Radovid had enough influence that he didn't need to actually fill the streets and walls with his soldiers. "One day the so-called free city of Novigrad will be truly free. But before that can happen, we gotta rid it of superstition. Farting around about the hallowed essence of the Eternal Fire. Nonsense for kiddies."
"Couldn't agree more," I stated. I already had an intense dislike for the Eternal Fire, my night with Tamara notwithstanding. But she was young and impressionable. I just hoped she would eventually see sense. I had a feeling anything I would have said during our night together would have fallen on deaf ears. So I just enjoyed a night with a beautiful young woman and truly wished her happiness after all she'd been through.
"Crowd in the square seemed to agree with every word Menge said," Geralt retorted.
"Any crowd of rabble will cheer to the stench of burning flesh. But one day folks will understand the Eternal Fire's naught but a leash around their necks. They call this place the Putrid Grove. But it's the rest of Novigrad that's putrefied. This here's the last bastion of normality, sanity, reason."
I didn't quite believe that, but anyone willing to stand up to Menge, the Eternal Fire, and by extension, Radovid, might prove to be a worthy ally. Bedlam continued to talk about his grand vision and ideas for Novigrad, and his hatred for the Eternal Fire was obvious. The man was a criminal to the bone, but I was left thinking he was like the baron. In it for himself, but he wouldn't leave piles of bodies in his wake to achieve his aims. Like always, no black or white, just differing shades of grey.
We were eventually dismissed by Bedlam, Triss turning and walking by me with nary a word. I followed her immediately, gently grabbing her by the wrist and turned her to face me. "Triss..."
