Two days on the road had passed by swiftly, and by the ti the walls of Ard Carraigh ca into full view, the world felt larger to Seb than it had back at Kaer Morhen.
The city rose from the land in layered contrast. Timber-frad houses leaned into one another, their roofs heavy with lting snow, while older stone structures stood stubbornly between them, remnants of sothing far older, elven perhaps, their pale surfaces worn out. Smoke drifted lazily into the grey sky, and even from a distance, the sound of life could be felt and heard.
Sebastian slowed his horse without aning to.
His gaze moved slowly, taking it all in, the walls, the gates, the people moving like ants beyond them, the way the city seed alive in a way the keep of Kaer Morhen never was. There was no awe in his expression, he was more thoughtful.
Vesemir noticed imdiately.
A faint, smile touched the old witcher's lips as he kept his eyes forward.
"Welco to the capital of Kaedwen."
Seb let out a breath through his nose, almost amused at himself for staring.
"Pretty nice city."
There was no sarcasm in it. Just a simple observation.
Vesemir snorted softly.
"You're Nilfgaardian. You've lived in the City of Golden Towers. This should look like a collection of firewood by comparison."
Seb laughed, shaking his head slightly as they approached the gates.
"Maybe. But at this point…" his eyes lingered on the streets ahead, "I barely rember it. Feels more like sothing I read about than sothing I lived in."
They passed through the gates without much trouble, though the guards watched them longer than necessary, their eyes settling on dallions, on swords, on eyes that weren't human.
Vesemir spoke again, more casually now.
"Then why not go back? I've heard witchers aren't treated as badly there. Might be rumors, but…"
Seb considered it, genuinely this ti.
"I might, one day." His voice lowered slightly, more thoughtful. "I'd like to know if there's anything left for there. Family… maybe. Or at least answers."
A brief pause passed before he added, almost offhandedly, "Could help with Ciri too. If I went south, I could look into things, listen around, see what people say.."
"No."
The word cut cleanly through the mont.
Seb turned his head, caught off guard by Vesemir's tone.
Vesemir didn't look at him as he continued.
"Stay away from politics. Kings. Emperors. All of it, leave that to Geralt, the fool's already tangled himself in that ss more tis than I like. Keeps thinking he can walk that dangerous line and not get dragged under." A faint shake of the head followed. "One day, it'll cost him, I keep telling him not to get involved."
Seb watched him for a mont, then nodded slowly.
"I get it. I won't go looking for that kind of trouble."
Vesemir gave a low grunt.
"You'd better not. If the things I've heard are half true, then Nilfgaard's emperor isn't a man you 'look into' and walk away from"
They rode deeper into the city after that, and the mood shifted, not between them, but around them.
People noticed.
At first, it was subtle. A glance held too long. A conversation that quieted as they passed. Then it grew bolder.
A man standing by a cart spat onto the ground just ahead of their horses.
"Mutants…"
A woman pulled her child closer, her eyes sharp with distrust.
"Keep walking," she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for them to hear.
Soone else laughed, a dry, unpleasant sound.
"Didn't know they let freaks ride through the gates now."
Sebastian's expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked once, taking everything in. The words didn't surprise him. If anything, this was exactly what he had expected.
Still, expectation didn't make it pleasant.
They stopped in front of a tavern, its wooden sign creaking softly in the wind.
Seb swung down from his horse, boots landing in slush and dirt. He took a slow look around as another man spat in their direction, not at them, but close enough to make the point.
"Charming place," Seb murmured.
Vesemir dismounted beside him, tying his horse with ease.
"Don't mind them. You'll hear worse before winter cos around again."
Seb exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"I figured as much."
Vesemir gave him a sidelong look.
"Just rember... stay away from trouble. And by trouble, I an don't start cutting people down because they don't like your eyes."
Seb glanced at the man who had spat earlier, then away again, Seb was still calm and controlled.
"It's not worth it, I know."
That was enough for Vesemir. He nodded once toward the tavern door.
"Good. Then let's get to work."
Inside, the tavern was warr, louder, filled with the sll of ale, vodka, damp wood, and too many bodies in too small a space. Conversations dipped slightly when they entered.
The presence of two Witchers had that effect.
Vesemir moved through the tavern, his familiarity with places like this evident in every step he took. Seb followed, less concerned with fitting in, more with observing, faces, reactions, the subtle shifts in tone when people realized what had just walked in.
Near the bar, a worn notice board hung crooked against the wall, covered in scraps of parchnt.
Vesemir gestured toward it.
"There. That's where your day starts."
Seb glanced at him, one brow lifting.
"We are not resting?"
Vesemir folded his arms,
"No, you'll take the contract. Talk to whoever posted it, set the price and decide the terms."
"And you, you really want to accompany on this hunt? I don't exactly need help you know..." Seb asked.
Vesemir's smirk deepened just slightly.
"I'll just watch."
Seb let out a quiet sigh.
"Of course you will."
"Monsters are the easy part," Vesemir added. "People aren't. If you can't handle the latter, the forr won't matter much."
Seb turned his attention to the board, eyes scanning the postings, then flicking briefly toward the room behind him.
Then, slowly, a small, confident smile ford.
"Alright," he said under his breath.
Sebastian stood before the notice board, eyes scanning the overlapping parchnts. Contracts layered over older contracts, so torn halfway through, others stained with ale or sothing darker. His fingers hovered briefly before settling on one that looked newer than the rest, cleaner edges, firr ink, recently nailed in place.
He pulled it free.
The parchnt gave with a little tear of resistance, and the mont it did, a voice rose from behind the counter of the tavern.
"Oh, that one."
Seb glanced over his shoulder.
The tavern keeper hadn't moved from his place, cloth in hand as he wiped down a mug that had likely never truly been clean. His eyes, however, were fixed on the parchnt in Seb's hand.
"Soone nailed it up yesterday, fancy script that one, slled like coin the mont I saw it."
Seb turned slightly, the parchnt still raised in his hand as he studied the man for a second longer than necessary. There was no mockery in the innkeeper's tone. No fear either.
Unusually so.
"Well," Seb said after a mont, "that saves so guessing. Thanks."
The man shrugged, as if it cost him nothing.
"House on the outskirts, belongs to a noble."
Seb gave a small nod and turned back to the parchnt, though a thought crossed his mind as his eyes began to move across the ink.
'What he just said...That's… literally written here.'
His lips twitched faintly, but he said nothing of it.
Instead, he read.
"Count Wilfrid…" he said, more to himself than anyone else, though Vesemir was close enough to hear every word. "Requests the aid of a witcher.. or any man versed in lifting curses, bindings, or darker afflictions."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, tone shifting as he processed it.
"His wife has fallen ill, very much so. So say cursed, others say possessed. No clear signs described… no symptoms listed. Just requesting urgent help and coin as a reward."
He lowered the parchnt slightly, gaze lingering on the final lines.
"No ntion of what's been tried already either. No priest, no mage… nothing."
There was a brief silence.
Then Vesemir stepped up beside him.
"Take it."
Seb glanced at him.
Vesemir's eyes were on the parchnt now, thoughtful, experienced in the way only decades could shape.
"Cases like that rarely co simple. It is a curse, if it were just sickness, they wouldn't be asking for a witcher, sothing seriously wrong is going on there."
His hand ca down on Seb's shoulder,
"I also feel like there's sothing else there. Sothing they either don't understand… or don't want to write down."
A look passed between them.
"It'll be an interesting contract."
Seb studied the parchnt one last ti before folding it carefully, sliding it into his coat.
"Alright."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
He turned toward the door, already moving.
"Let's go see what kind of ss this Count is in."
/-\\
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