Geralt and Juray took the road to Crow's Perch, bantering back and forth. Soon the fort appeared on the horizon and they urged their horses into a canter. Until a man hailed them from the side of the road.

"Halt!" he cried, looking at Geralt. "Stand and duel! I challenge you!"

"Is he serious?" Juray asked.

"Seems like it." The man regarded Geralt with his fists on his hips. "Boots a bit big, maybe? Careful not to trip." He started to turn Roach away.

"Halt, I say!"

"Persistent bastard, isn't he?" Juray remarked.

"I am Ronvid of the Small Marsh, bound by a sacred oath."

"Oh, boy..."

"That's rough," Geralt said, annoyance coloring his sarcasm. "My sympathies."

Juray snorted a laugh.

Ronvid ignored their comments. "To honor Maid Bilberry, fairest of all maids I know, by dueling a hundred knights to the death. Now draw your sword posthaste, for I have ninety-nine after you."

"You've been challenged by an amateur and an idiot," Juray commented. "Knock some sense into him and let's go."

Geralt shot her a look and she grinned before he dismounted. "At your service," Geralt drew his sword. "Let's get this over with."

Ronvid attacked and Geralt easily blocked. He toyed with Ronvid a bit before landing several blows that the man barely blocked.

"I yield!" he cried.

"Had enough?"

"Yes, luck stood with you! B-but the next time we meet..."

"I just might kill you. Get lost. Before I change my mind and break your bones."

"We shall meet again!" Ronvid stormed off and Geralt turned to mount Roach.

"What are you laughing at?"

"He sure showed you. Maid Bilberry would be so proud of him."

They crossed the rickety bridge and into the small town around the castle.

"I'm pretty sure that bridge has seen better days," Juray commented.

Geralt only shook his head. They were largely ignored by the people, but the guards seemed to be keeping a close eye on them. As they approached the gate to the castle, one of the guards stopped them.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Baron home?" Geralt asked.

"Depends who's asking."

"Witchers," Juray replied. "We need to talk to him."

The guard snorted, looking Juray up and down. "Yeah. And I wanna plough the lovely Queen Cerro."

"I'm pretty sure necrophilia is frowned on."

"You look familiar, Master Witcher," the second guard said. "Inn at the Crossroads. You bought us a round. As I recall, you were to go your separate way."

"It led me here," Geralt said. "Gotta talk to the Baron."

"Aye? What about?" the first asked.

"Something important. His ears only."

"Fine," the second responded. "Lodrin, open the gate. If they make any trouble, well... we outnumber 'em."

"Open the gate!" He then called upon the sergeant. "Ardal! Couple Witchers to see the Baron." He turned to Geralt and Juray as they passed him. "Don't want no disturbances, that clear?"

"Crystal," Juray said.

"How do you manage to stay out of trouble with your mouth?"

Ardal was waiting for them as they stepped past the gate. He looked them both over before turning and motioning for them to follow him. "Didn't think I'd see you again, Mistress Witcher," he commented.

"The Path led me here once more."

Geralt wanted to ask how they knew each other, but decided to question Ardal instead. "Guard called you a sergeant," he said. "You a Temerian soldier?"

"Not your concern, mate," he snapped.

"Deserter?"

"And you were concerned about my mouth," Juray commented.

"Temerian army don't exist no more."

"So what are you all doing here?"

"Had a choice after the Black Ones thrashed us, let it lie and try to lead normal lives or continue to resist, join the guerillas and fight for our beloved Temeria until death do us part. We chose the former."

"And the Baron your commander?"

"Yeah... commander." Ardal led them to the garden and motioned for them to go ahead.

The Baron, a portly man with a salt and pepper beard wearing red was talking to another man in Nilfgaardian armor.

"In Vizima," he was saying. "Now those were balls! Attended a few, me and my Annie. Oh, how we danced!" He stood and grabbed a servant that was sweeping nearby and she gave a startled yelp. "How we twirled." He laughed as he twirled the servant around. "One, two, three! One, two, three!" He laughed again as he let her go and Juray saw the smile on her face.

"Enough!" the Nilfgaardian said. "I don't care how you do it, but the deliveries must be weekly."

"Won't you stay for tea?"

The Nilfgaardian looked past the Baron. "No, besides you have other guests." He motioned towards the Witchers before taking his leave.

The Baron turned towards them as they approached. "Look at that!" he said. "Didn't even stay for tea! Despite all that blabberin' about how cultured the nation is."

"How rude," Juray smarted off, causing the Baron to give a hearty laugh.

"I like you already."

"Rumors rarely find confirmation in reality," Geralt said. "Especially ones about foreigners."

The Baron laughed again. "Right you are."

"I'm —"

"I know who you are," the Baron interrupted Geralt. "Believe I also know why you've come."

Juray and Geralt looked at each other.

"We'll talk inside."

The Baron led them to his office. It was a large room with a small table, a fireplace, a desk, and ample shelves. "Make yourselves at home," he said with a sweeping gesture.

Juray and Geralt moved deeper into the room and towards the table.

"Now where'd I put that bloody vodka?" He searched around before he found it. "Ah! There it is!" He picked up the bottle and held it towards them. "A snifter?"

"Why not?" Geralt said.

"And you, lass?"

"If you're offering, sure."

"A pair after me own heart! With Foltest dead and Natalis' whereabouts unknown," the Baron poured the drinks. "Bloody hell, who's a loyal Temerian to drink to these days?"

"Himself and his company?" Geralt offered.

"Good enough." The three picked up the glasses and drank. "To the matter at hand. I'm Phillip Strenger. Blobtits round here call me the Bloody Baron."

"Geralt of Rivia. Blobtits call me Butcher of Blaviken."

Juray snorted a laugh. He hated that name and to introduce himself with it struck her as funny.

"I said already, I know who you are." He looked over at Juray. "Although you're another story."

"Juray of Riverdell. Guess you can say the blobtits call me the White Demon."

"Now the White Demon, I've heard of." He turned his attention back to Geralt. "Truth be told, because I know who you are is the only reason we're talking. How do you two like it here in Velen?"

"Lovely place," Geralt said. "Swamps, bogs, marshes everywhere..."

"Does wonders to the complexion," Juray added.

"Exactly." A sad look passed over his face. "Someone loses their way 'round here, he becomes damn hard to find."

Juray had a feeling he was about to ask them to do just that.

"What are you getting at?" Geralt asked.

"He wants us to find someone," Juray answered.

"Many have lost loved ones here. Some their wives," he looked at Geralt. "Some their daughters."

Geralt narrowed his eyes at him.

"You've come looking for Ciri."

"How do you know we're here looking for her?" Juray asked.

"She talked about her father all the time, although I didn't expect her mother to come along as well."

"Whoa," Juray held a hand up. "Not her mother. More like her aunt."

Geralt leaned over the table. "So she was here."

"She showed up some time ago. Exhausted, wounded, and stinkin' like a soaked hound after a hard hunt. Later I learned she came from the swamp."

~~~

Ciri tumbled down the ledge, having been looking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed and didn't see it until it was too late. She landed face-first in some water, soaking her completely. She grumbled as she tried to shake the water off her. She looked up, holding her side, glad to see nothing was looking down at her, before focusing her efforts on finding a way out of the swamp.

"That was close," she said to herself, having taken on the Witcher habit of thinking out loud. "Now to get out of here." Ciri decided to continue the way she'd been heading, coming upon several wolves trying to jump up a tree to reach a girl in the branches. She jumped in and surprised the wolves, quickly killing them. After making sure they were dead, she looked up at the girl in the tree.

"You can come down."

The girl climbed down and Ciri saw she had to be no more than eight and wearing boy's clothes and a brown braid over her shoulder.

"Are you lost?"

"A little, I guess," the girl said. "Are you?"

"Yes." Ciri smiled. "Only also just a little."

"Does that mean you know which way to go?"

"Not quite. Not yet. But I'm sure we'll find the way if we set off together." Ciri couldn't leave her there and if there was something her adopted father told her that stuck was to never leave behind a soul in need.

"What happened to you?"

Ciri was dirty, wet, and the blood was noticeable on her white shirt. "This?" she motioned to the wound on her side before kneeling down in front of the girl. "It's nothing. How did you wind up here?"

"My father brought me. Told me to follow the Trail of Treats and eat my fill. He said he would wait. So I started down the trail, but then I saw a butterfly and I ran to catch it and I lost my way."

"Why did he have you follow the Trail of Treats? Do you know?"

"Because...," she looked down. "We had naught to break our fast with."

"I don't understand."

"I was naughty. Broke a jug and spilled all our milk."

"Your parents must have been angry."

"Mother said I should be spanked, but Father said 'twoud do no good. Too many mouths to feed anyway. Sending me down the Trail of Treats, that would solve things."

Ciri couldn't believe that her parents would abandon her to the swamp over spilled milk. "When did you two leave home?"

"This mornin'."

"And did the sun warm your face or your back?"

"It warmed my back."

"So we must go east." Ciri stood. "Come. I'll walk you home. And explain to your parents that they must not lose their children in the woods."

"We can't go home. 'Cause the Wolf King and his pack."

"No kings among wolves."

"These have one."

"You've seen him?"

"From behind a tree. He was huge with giant eyes and great fangs and he was terribly, disgustably horrific!"

Ciri smiled before motioning to Swallow. "See what I've got on my back?"

The girl nodded.

"Wolves fear it. Kings do too. Come. I'll help you." Ciri and the girl went to the nearby ledge and Ciri boosted her up, following right behind her. "What's your name?"

"Gretka."

"I'm Ciri."

After dispatching more wolves, Gretka looked up at Ciri with a look of awe on her face

"You're so brave!" she said. "My father could never do that."

Ciri smiled, thinking fondly of Geralt. "Mine could do a lot more."

They continued on until they came upon a gruesome scene.

"Ciri, look!" Gretka pointed.

"Wait here. Don't come any closer." Ciri investigated the corpse of what used to be a man to determine what killed him, Gretka coming over anyway.

"What happened to him?"

"He... had a fall."

"I bet the Wolf King got him."

"When did children get so smart?" Ciri asked with a smile.

"What'll we do when the Wolf King finds us?"

"Good question. I've got no silver, but I can make a blade oil."

"Oil? You mean like what we make from rapeseed?"

"No, a far more special oil. The Wolf King will feel terrible, terrible pain."

"You're smart! How do you know all these things? Did your father teach you?"

"Not my father. My uncle. Uncle Vesemir." She could hear his voice in her mind now, droning on about how useful oils are in combat. Ciri gathered the ingredients she needed and then found a spot to build a fire so she could brew the oil. Gretka watched the entire process.

"There," Ciri said after she finished greasing her blade with the oil. "We'll see how effective Uncle Vesemir's formulae are." Ciri doused the fire and Gretka led her to a cave.

"It's a bit dark...," the little girl said.

"Afraid?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then I'm not either."

Ciri couldn't help but smile.

Upon entering the cave, they immediately heard growling. They came to a ledge and saw a man backing away from a large werewolf.

"The Wolf King!" Gretka whispered. "Now do you believe me?"

"I do. Hide!"

Gretka did as she was told and Ciri jumped down, drawing her sword. The man fell and the werewolf raised his paw to strike. Ciri gave a whistle, drawing the werewolf's attention. It decided that Ciri was the bigger threat and charged.

"Watch out!" the man cried.

Ciri dodged the werewolf's strike, but not fast enough to entirely avoid a claw and bringing her blade around to slice into its back. The wound sizzled and the werewolf gave a howl of pain. Ciri attacked again before it could recover, this time taking its head in one fell sweep.

The man approached Ciri after she cleaned and sheathed her sword. "You really gave 'im a clobberin'. Never seen anything like it."

Ciri only looked over her shoulder. "Gretka! You can come out now!" she called.

Gretka emerged from her hiding spot and ran over to Ciri. "You did it!" she cried. "You killed the Wolf King!"

Ciri smiled before turning her attention back to the man. "You're lucky we came this way. Found someone less fortunate in the forest."

"Yaren. Must be. We was returning from Midcopse when the brute attacked. I managed to escape, but Yaren, he..."

Ciri raised her hands. "The little one. No details."

He nodded, glancing down at Gretka, who was no entertaining herself by playing with the cat head medallion hanging from Ciri's belt.

"You have bandages at home? Some spirit? He laid a claw or two on me, unfortunately."

"I-I've naught, miss, but my lord, he's a powerful man. He's sure to help you. Might even reward you for cuttin' the werewolf down."

"Very well. Lead me to your lord."

The lord introduced himself as Phillip Strenger and escorted them to his personal rooms. "You two look like you haven't had a decent meal in weeks."

"Might be true of Gretka," Ciri said. "Her family was struggling to feed their children and she was sent down a trail of treats."

"Say no more." He motioned to the table. "Sit. Make yourselves at home." He turned to the nearby servant. "Go to the kitchens and tell them to prepare a meal for a family."

"Yes, milord."

"Thank you," Ciri said. "I really appreciate this."

"It's nothing. I'll also send for my doctor to have those wounds looked at."

The servants brought the food and Ciri and Gretka dug in. Ciri was starving and Getha was eating with both hands, shoveling in food. Phillip conversed with the man that brought them before he joined them.

"So, stew any good?" he asked.

"Mhm, very," Ciri answered. "I'd not eaten in—"

"I see that." He smiled. "I'm pleased you like it. Had them prepare a bath for you once you've eaten. And you could do with some sleep. Gretka in the nook behind the hearth, you in the guest room opposite the kitchen."

"Thank you. I —"

"Shh. Eat now. We'll speak once you're rested."

~~~

"So I ordered my men to watch her and left her to her rest."

"And?" Geralt prompted.

"Ah, a topic for another time."

"Of course," Juray muttered.

"The little girl that showed up with Ciri? What happened to her?"

"Gretka? She's safe and sound. Helps out in the kitchen. Ciri told me of the girl's parents, what they decided. So I decided not to send the lass home. She's fed here. A roof over a warm corner to call her own. She wants for nothing."

"What happened to Ciri?"

"I've told you already. A topic for another time."

"What do you want in exchange?" Juray asked.

"You're a sharp one, lass."

"Have to be in our line of work."

"I regret your loss, commiserate. But it so happens that my wife and daughter are missing as well. I propose an exchange, find my loved ones and I'll tell you about the girl you seek. All I know."

"Thing is, can I trust you?" Geralt asked. "What guarantee do I have?"

Phillip laughed. "None whatsoever. Only my word."

"Fine, we'll help you. We'll find your family, but then you'll give me every bit of information you have."

"You have my word." He then gave a whistle. "Guard!"

The guard appeared.

"These two are under my protection. No one's to bother them. In any way."

Juray and Geralt just looked at him.

"Don't stare, I've not grown horns. Treat it as a token of my good faith."

"When did you see them last?" Geralt asked, treating this as a Contract.

"They vanished after the new moon, as if whisked away by shadows."

"What do you mean, 'vanished'?"

"Precisely that. I awoke one morn to find them gone."

"What do they look like?" Juray asked. "Will help us know who we're looking for."

"Tamara, my daughter, turned nineteen in the spring. Slender lass, about Juray's height. Beautiful eyes, green like her mother's. My wife, Anna, has two score winters behind her, though she'd never admit it. Dark hair, thick as tar, keeps it tied up in a bun."

"Is there any way we can look at their rooms?"

"What for?"

"Clues," Geralt said. "Anything to latch onto."

"I'll not let strangers paw through their belongings!"

"Want us to find them or not?"

Phillip sighed. "I do."

"Then let us work."

"Fine, but I shall go with you. The doors are locked." Phillip led them from the office and headed towards the stairs. "When she was a babe, my daughter loved animals. Saw a deer trophy on the wall once. Know what she asked?"

"What?" Juray asked.

"'Papa, is that deer's rump on the other side of the wall?'"

Juray smiled as Phillip laughed.

"You see it there? What a trophy!" His laughter died as he unlocked a door, then went and unlocked another. "I pity any bastard who's hurt her. I'll flay him alive." He opened the door to the second room. "Our bedchamber." He pointed over to the first one. "Tamara's room is over there."

"I'll look over Tamara's room," Juray said. "You search their room."

Geralt nodded and the two separated to look for clues.