Lilac and Gooseberries

Geralt dismounted Roach, the atmosphere light, at least that's how it seemed on the surface, a small lively chatter met Geralt's ears, along with the soft crunch of the ground under his boots. before him were a group of Nilfgaardian soldiers gathered around a small campfire, relaxing and one sharpening his steel blade. Geralt, leaving Roach at the wooden stables at the Garrison made his way forward, following the little River that led out into deeper waters, following the rough path past the soldiers. "Heard of the Vrihedd Brigade? your kind served there - nonhumans..." the soldier spoke as Geralt drew closer, the Witcher ignoring him and pressing forth. he made his way up and made his way onto a raised wooden platform and then up the stairs. the wooden stairway that seemed to have been built on top of the rocks. he narrowed his eyes as he stepped further up, quickly, one foot after another. the early morning sun shining off the high ground. Geralt knew that it was somewhere around 8am. he slowed down his step as he reached the top merely a minute later, a soldier stood guard, he seemed uninterested, but he didn't want to pick a fight with a soldier, nonetheless one who carried both sword and white shield that was almost the same size of him, then again, weighed down with armour and his back facing the world, he could easily have been pushed off the edge or shot with an arrow or crossbow bolt from behind. Geralt stopped staring and moved forward, following the proceeding stairs to the right. He went forward and then left, finally reaching the top, two guards at the top. Geralt looked at each one carefully as he approached. a slender one stood with his arms crossed upon seeing Geralt, he was clean shaven. while the other soldier a little rounder at the stomach with a helmet revealing his whole face unlike the other man who's only facial feature wasn't protected were the mouth and chin, and eyes with someone with good sword skills or skilled with a crossbow. this other guard had a salt and pepper beard and arms hanging limply at his side. he could see and smell the sweat glistening off of the bearded soldiers exposed forearm, but he turned to look at him as he spoke. "Military camp. No locals allowed without the express consent of the garrison commander." Geralt looked at him. "I look like a local to you?" he questioned flatly. "you look like trouble." the clean shaven guard asked, emphasising the word look, he certainly had a talent of judging people quickly. "Dead wrong - I make trouble go away. I'm a Witcher." the fatter man looked at Geralt for a moment, in silence, his yellow eyes barely shielded from the harsh sun by his silver helmet. "A Witcher...?" the two guards exchanged glances. "Captain Peter Saar Gwynleve is in the tower. Turn right, past the gate." he was almost polite. "Guessing your captain's got work for me." Geralt said, purely only speaking and looking to the bearded guard. "This is the army, Nordling. There is no guessing." Geralt couldn't complain there. and he didn't want to linger outside the gates, the grumpy guard was getting impatient enough with his presence. "the tower. go." he demanded.

Geralt cracked his knuckles, messing with the straps of his gloves and making sure they were right on his hands. He ran forward and pushed open the two wooden doors that led into the garrison. it was great. almost beautiful besides it's infestation of Nilfgaardian soldiers. the sun hit the red bricks of the garrison making it glow, some walls were broken and piles of rubble could be seen. but it wasn't awful. he followed the path that curved to the right, stopping briefly for a second to pluck up a handful of health Verbena that was growing on the ground. He moved to the side of the Nilfgaardian crested tent and found more of the same plant, it seemed popular here. and no one seemed to mind him taking it. He continued on slowly, more soldiers were sat around a campfire, why anyone would want to sit in armour around a campfire on a sunny day was beyond Geralt's understanding, but they were Nilfgaardians, so he didn't care if they boiled from the inside out. There were fewer around the campfire this time though, compared to the group he'd seen earlier. more soldiers were positioned around the military camp, keeping guard, most just stood a few paces from each other, while others stood at the edge of the garrison looking out onto the fields and into the trees, alert for danger. Geralt walked to the far corner of the garrison, a suit of armour with the Nilfgaardian crest on its chest sparkled in the sun, as well as the grindstone that lay just before him. Geralt made his way over to it and sharpened both his blades against the stone, enhancing his weapons. He looked to the man at the foot of the stairs, he was a Craftsman, a Quartermaster at this garrison. it was simple, people in this world, their jobs, they all had their own talent, craftsmen could craft a variety of items, blacksmiths forged weapons and Armourers made armour. "Password" the Quartermaster asked Geralt as he stepped in front of him. "Dunno any." he shrugged a little, prompting the man to move on. "So, out for a little walkie, eh? Counting the emperor's swords to lull you to sleep? Well, in the army we've a place for nosy ramblers - the scaffold." the man looked ridiculous, and Geralt tried not to focus too much on that. his hair was thin and short, long wisps trying to hide the bald patches on his head, the glasses on his face were thick and heavy and a dull brown that sat purely by resting on his nose, he wore an outfit mixed with colours of brown leather. white tunic and black too, belts and leather straps across his chest. honestly, his style reminded him of Eskels dress sense. "And thick-skulled quartermasters? They got a place?" Geralt retorted. "Hehehe...Er, you're clearly skilled at banter. And haggling? You got a knack for that as well?" The man asked. Geralt moved on with the conversation, it was doing him no good in stalling. "Like you to craft something for me." he replied.

Geralt could've had a number of things made for him, but right now he needed specifics, even if it was just a look at what the Amateur Craftsman had in stock. there were crafting components he could ask for, but he knew none of them would help his search for Yennefer. This Quartermaster in particular had numerous things to craft, copper ingots, copper ore, copper plates, Cupronickel ore, cured leather, hardened leather, hardened timber, infused dust, iron ingots and more. Instead he decided to go with repairs, he knew the fort commander had some sort of mission set for him, wouldn't hurt to be prepared. He went to repair his witchers Silvers sword, his warrior's leather jacket (medium armour), his cavalry boots, his hunting gauntlets and his steel sword and trousers too, all for 128 crowns, but stopped. the durability on all those items were over 50 percent, and he needed the coin for other matters.

Geralt had picked up various equipment on his travels, numerous swords and clothing items that he didn't need. which was great since he could now dismantle them. he had a steel Novigrad longsword, a steel Nilfgaardian longsword, a witchers steel sword, though worse than the one currently equipped, and he didn't need two, there was also the Rusty Novigrad sword. He handed over the rusty steel sword to the man and watched as he took it, giving Geralt one leather scraps and one iron ingot, all for the dismantling cost of four crowns which now left him with 109 coins to spend. The clothing items consisted of hunting boots and gloves and pants, among them also was a light armoured Cidarian gambeson, which Geralt handed over for 19 crowns to be dismantled, the Craftsmen handed over one of each material, linen, leather scraps, leather straps, thread and cotton. He went on to dismantle his hunting boots for 6 coin, adding one leather scraps, one iron ore and one leather straps to his inventory. That was enough of that, and he had to see if he could actually gain some money from the quartermaster. He went over to his shop and handed him over the unequipped witchers steel sword and sold it for 6 coin, taking his crowns back up to a total of 90. He sold the Nilfgaardian longsword for 5 crowns, the small blackjack for 6 crowns, the rusty Novigrad longsword for 3 crowns, his hunting gauntlets for 4 crowns and his pair of cavalry gauntlets for 15 crown. He further sold his hunting trousers for 13 crowns more. He made his way over to the junk he carried, bringing himself to a moment's hesitation to then sell a silver amber necklace to the quartermaster, a magic item, which gained him 101 coin in return.

With a little more money to spend Geralt looked back to the offers of what the Quartermaster could craft. along with the crafting components there were crossbow bolts, junk, silver swords and steel swords. for the steel sword. there was the Dorian sword, for the silver sword. a viper silver sword, the sword for fighting monsters, and much better equipped to fight than the one he had at the moment. it's a shame, the viper silver sword would have granted him better advantage in a fight, especially those to come, but he was missing components to craft it, and didn't have the crown to buy the parts needed either. "so long" Geralt ended their exchange and made his way to the ascending stairs less than two feet away from him. and as the Nilfgaardian had put it earlier, it led to some sort of brick tower.

He entered to see the man with armour sat down. speaking to someone who seemed to be a commoner, a local, as he was told earlier, the whimpering man before him wearing a white plain and dirty tunic and green trousers, a brown rope tied around his waist and a brown hood of sorts sat comfortably on his shoulders. "How much grain will your village give?" the cold voice of the Saar Gwynleve came. "whatever you say. your excellency." he held his hands out in defence as Geralt watched the man stand up. "look at my hands. look! see the calluses?" the dark haired commoner looked down at his hands before nodding. "these are not the hands of an 'excellency', but of a farmer. so we speak peasant to peasant. how much can you give?" he asked. His excellency pointed at the farmer who let out a slow shaky breath in return, though still clearly nervous. "forty bushels. There'd be more, sir, but our lads, the Temerians, that is, took from us earlier and..." he waved his hands about, at a loss for words for what he was trying to say. "you will give thirty, and that will do. let us settle on it. and I wish to see the transport soon" He replied to the man cutting him off. "Ah. thank you, sir! Thank you kindly!" he turned and immediately made his way out of the tower.

Geralt wasted no time in stepping forward. the garrison commander looking at him so suddenly it was as though the peasant hadn't been there. "I summoned only the ealdorman and the Smith. Willis - buy it is said he is a dwarf. you are too tall to be him." He concluded out loud. "very perceptive of you" Geralt replied in a low tone. "Geralt of Rivia. Witcher" he continued when the commander had nothing else to say. "A vatt'ghern - this explains why I did not hear your footsteps. what do you seek here?" he asked. "Yennefer of Vengerberg. where was she headed?" Geralt questioned wasting no time. "That is a military secret" the other man shrugged. "Haven't thrown me out yet. haven't called the guards. so go ahead - what's your price?" he asked the commander. "there is a Griffin in the area. slay it, and then I shall see what I can do." he said after a moment's hesitation. "why do you care about this Griffin?" Geralt asked him. "because I care about people" he told him in a quick reply. "the beast had killed ten already. including a few of my men." he turned his back on Geralt and went to the wide glassless window of his brick tower. "to Hunt it. I would need to mobilize the entire garrison, comb the woods. organise a battue. simply impossible." he clasped his hands behind his back. "too big a hassle?" The witcher teased slightly. "No. too high a risk" He replied almost melancholy. "I cannot disperse my forces. Temeria's army we have crushed, but it's common folk remain, ready to answer a call to arms. so as to this Griffin, I can sit on my hands... or hire a professional." he said turning back around to face Geralt. "it's a deal. some questions before I start. know where the Griffin has its lair?" he asked.

The commander nodded walking back to his desk and pointing to a map on the table. "it kept to the Vulpine woods at first. I sent a patrol there, five young men. a hunter found them two days on. I only recognised them because they wore our plate." He rest his hands on the wooden table shaking his head. "since then, the griffin has grown bold. attacks in villages, fields, on the main road." he said, Geralt nodding slightly. "Meaning it's abandoned it's lair. gonna have to set a trap" he mumbled to himself. but loud enough for the garrison commander to hear. "I judge from your tone this will not be easy. what do you require?" He asked the Witcher. "I'll need bait, a specific herb - buckthorn. scent should lure the griffin from ten miles off." the commander stuttered a little. "buck...buckthorn? I do not know this. But I am not yet fluent in the common tongue" he said making Geralt grumble. "mhm. probably mastered the basics. though - "hands up," "kill them"..." Geralt said to him. "No. first came idioms. don't play with fire. for example." he replied instantly trying to shut down Geralt's judgement. "go to Tomira, an herbalist. she lives near the crossroads. she will aid you" he offered. but Geralt didn't move. "need more information about this Griffin, it's sex, why it's abandoned it's lair." he replied as the commander shrugged a little extending his arms. "shall I bring you witnesses?" he offered. "they won't say anything I don't already know. I need to go where your men died, look around. What's the name of the hunter who found them?" Geralt asked trying to get everything he could before setting off. "Mislav. he has a hut south of the village, very near the wood. helpful fellow. a little strange, though." he said looking off to the side. "Tomira and Mislav...thanks." Geralt said to the garrison commander. The two shared a brief nod, the commander speaking in a different language. translated to "good hunting to you".