Arsonist

Vesemir walked off to the right to an empty table and sat down, it was right in the corner of the tavern, right beneath a square and dirty glass window, a few candles the only thing lighting up the area. "Help you bandage that up?" Geralt offered, meaning the wound Vesemir sustained due to the Griffin attack. "Please. I'm not decrepit yet." Vesemir responded to Geralt who was still stood. "then I'll ask about yennefer" Geralt said turning his head. "Mhm. Just remember - we'd rather not draw any attention." Geralt smiled for a moment before nodding.

Geralt walked over to the table, where two folk sat engaged in conversation, he only caught the back end of the conversation until the men stopped talking upon seeing him. "Let 'em measure, better that than burnin' the harvest." The closest guy had said. Geralt walked right up to them, looming over the men sat down. "I'm looking for someone" a rather bigger man, with a shiny goblet filled with alcohol looked to the man opposite him "And we seek some peace and quiet" the other spoke up too. "Outta my face, freak, 'fore your breath sours my beer." He said.

Geralt shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Waste of words. Don't have time for your kind." He grumbled. The first man who had spoken turned to Geralt. "Smart. Nor do we have time for yours." He replied. Geralt crossed his arms over his chest and decided to keep talking to the peasants. "Look, he's back." The big man in the hat spoke, clearly not happy. "why d'ye keep pesterin' us, eh? Do better to kill the Griffin!" The other man said in a slightly raised voice.

"Raven-haired woman dressed in black and white. Seen her? Talk." Geralt pressed on harshly not amused, he used his fingers to cast Axii on the bigger man, just because he could. "Folk say the lady rode through the village a few days back. Gallopin' so fast she knocked Radobor into a ditch." He said. Geralt stared at him wanting more. "which way did she go?" He asked watching him carefully, he responded immediately. "Dunno...lots of tracks leadin' off the main road. Coulda gone anywhere." The other male stood up. "Oi, people! The freak's taken Mikah's mind!"

He yelled getting a grunt from Geralt who turned to look at him, threateningly stepping forward. "Uh-huh. And I'll take your tongue if you don't shut up." The two stared at each other, until the other man sat back down, not wanting to test Geralt. He walked past the bar, past Elsa, the woman that knew Bram, the one he'd brought bread from and rounded the corner to the other section of the pub, to the table of three men, who were deep in conversation. "Once more. There are four factions..." Geralt stepped up and observed what was going on. "What a waste of time. The earth shall revolve around the sun before you comprehend these rules." He said slapping the cards down onto the wooden table, looking to the man beside him who had badly cropped hair and a torn shirt. He shook his head and left, Geralt watching. "Got a minute?" He asked the man. "Why not. Aldert Geert, assistant professor in contemporary history at Oxenfurt Academy." He introduced himself, gesturing to the bench seat before him, Geralt stepping over the bench and taking a seat at the table. "Geralt of Rivia. Witcher with tenure." He said simply, getting straight to the point. "I'm looking for a woman - long hair, dressed in black and white. Seen anyone like that?" The man, Aldert, laughed. "Of course not. Unlike the populace, I know the Horsewoman of War is pure poppycock."

"Horsewoman of War - what's that about?" Geralt asked. If he was describing yennefer, why not just say her name, he had to know more. "Folk say an omen, a beautiful phantom rides the fields at night. Looks as you described her. Armies follow her, and all who cross her path meet with misfortune." Aldert continued. "I can vouch for the last bit. Know where they saw her?" Geralt rested his hand on his knee, leaning closer to the man. "No. Facts interest me, not fairytales."

"Gotta go. So long." Geralt said to the man at the table. "A moment, Witcher. You strike me as a man of the world. Are you familiar with Gwent?" He asked him. "No. And I don't have time to learn."Geralt responded quickly with a rough tone. "But the rules are quite simple. Come, let's play." Aldert said.

Geralt rocked back in his seat. "No thanks. Got some other things on my mind" he said. "Shame. I'd ask the locals, but since they can't count to ten, the rules are a complete mystery." Aldert mumbled. "Ah well, I'm here if you change your mind." The man offered, motioning to the Gwent cards that lay abandoned on the table in front of him. Without another word Geralt stood up and left, stopping briefly to stare at the black and white cat that stood at the entrance of the tavern. He turned to his left to see one last traveler. Gaunter O'Dimm. He sat down quickly. "Looking for a woman" he said, the man sighed and looked to Geralt. "Ahh, like everyone." He grumbled. "Not like everyone, and not just any woman. Mine smells of lilac and gooseberries, dresses in black and white." Geralt told him. The man's eyes lit up a little, or perhaps it was the candle so close to his face reflecting into his eyes. The man looked over Geralt's shoulder to Elsa "Two schnappses!" The man let out a little grunt. "Hah. It'll lift your spirits."

Geralt nodded, bringing both his clenched fists into the table. "Fine. I'll have a drink" the other man nodding in approval. "Can we cut to the chase? You seen her or not?" He questioned. The man looked at him for a moment and then spoke. "Yennefer of Vengerberg?" Geralt looked at him speechless, his eyes widening slightly and remained silent, as did the other man as Elsa approached them with the requested drinks, placing them down on the wooden table before leaving, wiping her hands on her cloth shirt. "Never mentioned her name"Gert said ignoring the drink for now. "Yet you described her perfectly. And once I hear something, I never forget. Can't help it."

Geralt stared at him. "How do you know Yennefer?" He asked, making the man rock back in his seat. "What a question. Master Dandelion's ballads, of course. The only way a humble merchant might hope to rub up against greatness. Unless, that is, he's as lucky as I am." He said. "And runs into a very patient Witcher?" Geralt asked cocking his head to the side. "Into Geralt of Rivia himself. The Butcher of Blaviken." The man stared at him, Geralt suppressing the urge to swallow a lump in his throat, continued to stare back at the man with his piercing yellow eyes.

Geralt lowered his head a little as he spoke. "Recognise me from Master Dandelion's ballads, too?" He asked him. "To your health" the man replied picking up his drink and taking a mouthful of the schnapps.

"You seen Yennefer?" He asked the man who was now drinking. "Deepest apologies, but I must ask: is this about love?" The man asked, he could hear it in his voice, he wasn't lying about being sorry. Geralts right eyebrow raised a bit and his lips remained in a thin tight line.

Geralt looked at him. "None of your business" he said quickly, watching as the man squirmed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, as a vagrant I deserve no explanation." He looked back up to the Witcher as he spoke. "What do you know? Tell me." He tilted his head a little. Looking at the man who seemed to be enjoying this conversation. "Before you appeared, it never occurred to me that might've been Yennefer. Who would've thought..." He shook his head, gazing off into the distance. "Get to the point." Geralt urged, the man looked back up. "A Nilfgaardian scout from the local garrison saw her." He said. "Where?" Geralt asked bringing his hands together. "at their camp. She rode in there - dark of night, black and white, gooseberries and...yes, I know. Had a terse exchange with the garrison commander and raced off." He continued on with the point after Geralt gave him a foul look, his face stern and his jaw clenched, not enjoying the man's ramblings. "Where to?" Geralt asked bringing his head back off a little. What was yennefer up to. "I'm not omniscient. Ask at the garrison." The man told the Witcher. Geralt nodded his head slowly. "Thanks" the man stood up in front of Geralt, only Geralt's eyes following him. "We men of the road must stuck together. Perhaps one day I'll be in trouble and you'll be nearby to help." He walked off leaving Geralt sat there alone.

He didn't stay there long. He stood up and walked to the door mere inches away from where he sat, pushed it open with one hand and strolled outside, blocking his path were three peasants dressed in sorts of armour, shiny helmets and all. The one in the middle waring a blue tunic. "Done drinkin'?" He asked, his arms folded across his torso, the man to his right with his hands on his hips, and the man with tattoos leaning against the stables stood up and scowled at him. "Mhm." Then Geralt mumbled as an answer. "Then fuck off." The guy in the middle spat rudely, his hands thrown out to the side in annoyance. "Hrrk-ptoo. Don't want your kind here" the man with the tattoos spoke, but not before spitting at the ground near Geralt's feet. Geralt looked over his shoulder briefly, Elsa was at the window watching the whole thing, hands clasped worriedly over her mouth and nose.

Geralt stood there and stared at the man in the middle of them all. "Haven't done anything to you. So just calm down." He waved his hand casting a sign on the man in the silver helmet, causing him to stutter and mumble. "Course not....nay, uh...ye done nothin'..." The other two stared at him for a moment, confused and the one with tattoos looking pissed off. "Whoreson's workin' witchcraft! Get him!" He pointed to Geralt who narrowed his eyes and glared at him. He didn't draw his swords, like Vesemir had said, he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself while he was there. He stepped forward and uppercut the man with tattoos straight in the jaw making him lose balance and stumble backwards. Their weak insults meaning nothing to Geralt. "Your arse is mine!" The tattooed man yelled. While the other cowered behind hands blocking his face saying "don't let up!" He punched the man across the face harder this time, not having time to rebalance from the last hit he fell backwards, unconscious on the floor. Falling into Roach and the other horse that was there, upon being disturbed they both quickly ran off to the side away from the brawl. Geralt was struck on the back, he felt it, the cowardly soldier had worked up the nerve to hit him while his back was turned. Geralt spun quickly on his heels and punched the man across the face, through the gaps of the helmet leaving the man staggering for a moment, his hand in front of his face as he tried to clear his vision. He punched him a few more times until he too was on the ground. The third soldier stood up still, unbalanced from the sign cast on him, unable to function.

Geralt looked around the stables, ignoring the Hens that roamed around freely and made his way over to the stables, seeing two rather large boxes that he couldn't help but to look inside. In one he found Alchemists' powder, and in the other, Old goat hide. He was done here, the man who was standing a moment ago slowly falling to his side and then onto his arse. Unable to keep standing as he held his head. "Whoaa!" Geralt said as he mounted roach. He gently tugged on the reigns and positioned her to the wooden square exit at the end of the short path that lead away from the tavern. "That's it, Roach!" Geralt said calming his horse down. He turned right as he reached the end. Which only took seconds after he'd gained control over his steed. He kicked her sides gently and ride along the path, starting to gallop as he went past the locals. Ignoring their conversations, following on from his conversation with the travelers in the tavern. He had to ask the Nilfgaardians about Yennefer. Geralt slowed down his horse As he approached a split in the oath, one going left, one right, in the middle was a house built if wood and a straw and stick roof, what interested Geralt more was the notice board in front of it. Much less the annoying child singing in front of it. "It's rainin' it's pourin', emp'ror Emhy's snorin', he bumped his head when he went to bed and wet himself come mornin'..."

He ran off the the left, just a few meters away from the board and went to a bush, filled with white petals. Blooming in the sun. He picked a few up and tucked them away safely, white Myrtle petals, couldn't go wrong with a few of those. Even if just to sell for a few crown. Through that. In front if him lay another bush, dotted with red circles. He ran over, grabbed as much as he could of the Berbercane fruit and circled back in himself, making his way to the notice board, reading the six notices that were on there.

Geralt mounted his horse again and and followed the path, going to the left, followed it around the corner for a few seconds before pulling to a stop, he walked up the the house and Worksop. Where a man was hammering away at something outside in the sun. "What happened here?" Geralt asked Willis. Looking inside to see burnt wood and the entrance blocked a bit.

The man turned around. "Oh, got a wee bit chilly the night, so I set fire to my forge. Got it nice and roarin' Roasted some wieners!" Willis exclaimed sarcastically at the Witcher, looking up at him, as this so called man, was a dwarf, with a braided long grey beard hanging from his chin with a short and round stature. "Whaddaya think happened, dimwit? Some bugger set slight me...me workshop! I've lost everythin'. Everythin'!"

"Sorry" Geralt grumbled realising his mistake. "Any suspects?" He asked the dwarf, looking down at him. "Whole damn village. I've lived here half a century. Though they saw me as one o' their own. But everythin' changed when the Black Ones came. I'm the only Smith around, so I got to service their garrison. Bang dents out o' plate, shoe horses - that sorta thing." Willis told Geralt, dragging out his sentence. "Nilfgaardians don't pay me a bloody copper, just give me supplies and orders. But humans can't fathom that. They think I'm gettin' rich off their misfortune, that I sleep on a pile o' gold like a ploughin' dragon. They've stopped talkin' to me, spit when I pass...and now this." He complained, to Geralt who listened quietly.

"I can find your arsonist. Provided you're willing to pay." Geralt offered. "Huh, I've not much left...but I'll give ye all if ye bring me that whoreson. So that he gets what he deserves." Willis said. "the night o' the fire, I heard movement outside my hut. Went out to see if I could find any tracks, but found nothin'. But then I haven't got cat eyes, have I? Good luck." Geralt went over to the wheel and used to enhance his items, sharpening his swords and more. He had a feeling whatever he had to do next, he'd need his blades.