Geralt and Juray arrived at the Kingfisher, an upper-end tavern right on the line between the poor and merchant districts. There were already several people there and Zoltan approached them.

"Just in time," he said. "Let's find some arse-rests. Should start soon."

They managed to find seats in the fairly crowded establishment as a blond-haired woman walked onto stage. She wore a pant set that was very much like something Jaskier would wear, brightly colored in red and blue. She sat on a stool and tuned her lute before she started to play. Then she began to sing in the most beautiful voice Juray had ever heard.

These scars have long yearned for your tender caress.

To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.

Rend my heart open, then your love profess.

A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone

You flee my dream come the morning.

Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet

To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy.

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep

Juray glanced over at Geralt, recognizing Yennefer and realizing it was a song about the two's love. Geralt, in turn, was enraptured by her song.

The wolf I will follow into the storm.

To find your heart, its passion displaced

By ire ever growing, hardening into stone.

Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace

You flee my dream come morning.

Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet

To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep

Geralt has a look of memory on his face as the song continued, Juray having no doubt he was thinking of his sorceress.

I know not if fate would have us live as one.

Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound

The wish I whispered when it all began.

Did it forge a love you might never have found?

Priscilla noticed Geralt in the crowd as she sang, locking her eyes on him as she finished the song.

You flee my dream come the morning.

Your scent -- berries tart, lilac sweet

To dream of raven locks, stormy

Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep

Priscilla finished her song to roaring applause, Geralt himself giving her a standing ovation, amusing both Juray and Zoltan after his complaining. Until a middle-aged woman with a crooked nose shouted.

"I know him!" she cried, bringing everyone's attention to her. "Twas him murdered some Temerian boys back in White Orchard!"

"You the Butcher of White Orchard now, too?" Juray asked.

"Shut up."

But the woman's outburst caused a chorus of voices to rise around them.

"Silence, woman. We've come to hear music."

"A murderer?"

"There's a war on. Some die."

"Oh, please argue this out elsewhere."

"Squabbles and rows again! And I was told this was a decent establishment!"

"If I know Geralt," Zoltan put in. "He risked his noggin to save someone else's arse!"

"Save, you say?! He murdered folk!"

Zoltan looked like he was about to argue with her.

"Let her think what she wants," Juray said. "White Orchard is going through hard times with Temeria's fall."

"Don't let 'em provoke you," Geralt said.

"There's the door!" a man said. "Settle this outside!"

Geralt felt a hand on his arm and he turned his head towards whoever touched him to see Priscilla.

"Come," she simply said.

Geralt and his friends followed her, Juray grabbing onto Zoltan's collar to keep him from starting a row with the innkeeper from White Orchard.

"I wish to listen to music! Music!"

"Cultural capital of the world? The fuck it is."

Meanwhile, the four found a quiet corner to talk in.

"Permit me... to introduce... err...," Zoltan started. "This here's Priscilla, known also as Callonetta. As lovely as she is talented. And this is Juray of Riverdell and..."

"Geralt of Rivia," Priscilla said. "I know. Jaskier's told me a great deal about you, and I've listened with bated breath. Don't be surprised. After all, doubt I could think of a more fitting subject for a ballad than a Witcher's love for a sorceress... Or should I say, sorceresses?"

This caused a perturbed look to cross Geralt's face and a snort of a laugh to escape Juray's lips.

"Seems Jaskier was meticulous in telling my story, down to personal and insignificant details. Did he offer anything about himself, like where he was going?"

Priscilla then laughed. "Splendid! Very funny, truly! So, see you later!" She passed close to Geralt. "Not here," she whispered. "Come with me."

They followed Priscilla to her room.

"There a reason for all this sneaking around?" Geralt asked.

"An excellent one... When last I saw Jaskier, he told me he was planning a heist -- Sigi Reuven's vault..."

"...Sheep dip...," Zoltan muttered.

"And I've not seen him since."

"Reuven...," Geralt asked. "What's he like?"

"Tall...," Zoltan answered. "Fat... Dangerous as hell."

"Limp in his gait," Priscilla added. "Left leg."

"Sounds like a lame rock troll," Juray said.

"If trolls were devilishly intelligent and had a flair for crime, yeah, I'd agree."

"What the hell was Jaskier thinking?" Geralt asked. "Breaking into a vault... I'd sooner expect him to choose a life of celibacy."

"True...," Zoltan agreed. "Forgot to pay for his wine at the Passiflora once. He laid awake the next three nights worryin' about it."

"Any idea what got into him? He have debts he needed to pay off?"

"He claimed he was helping someone. An urgent matter that couldn't wait, he said."

"This someone, Jaskier mention their name?"

"No... But if I know Jaskier, it's her name he failed to mention. As he failed to mention her slender waist and ample bosom."

"That's definitely unlike Jaskier," Juray said.

"Lemme guess. Attempted heist was a failure?"

"Well he's not driven up in a gilded carriage laden with jewels, so I should think so. I've asked after him everywhere, but it seems an army of tongue-stealing cats has overrun the city. I learned only that he'd raised a ruckus at Whoreson Junior's lair. Then Whoreson's men chased him all over town."

"Someone seriously called themselves Whoreson?" Juray asked.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Geralt added.

"Biggest prick in Novigrad," Zoltan said. "Not literally, but..."

"Got it. You're no fan. But what'd he do to you?"

"Try the whole town," Priscilla said. "He's one of four bosses who control the city's underworld, the others being Sigi Reuven, Carlo "The Cleaver" Varese, and the King of Beggars."

"Please tell me he didn't piss all four of them off," Juray sighed.

"I'm not sure."

"The rascal...," Zoltan said. "At least he didnae cross the Church as well, bring that venerable institution into it. We'd be in deep, then."

"Here I go again," Geralt sighed. "Rushing to Jaskier's rescue... He oughta pay me a salary."

Juray smirked. It did seem to always fall on Geralt to pull Jaskier out of his predicaments.

"Wherever he is," Priscilla said, crossing her arms. "I sincerely doubt he's in the mood for jokes. Nor am I, in fact."

"Alright, well you go find this Sigi Reuven," Juray said. "I'll pay a visit to Whoreson." She looked at Priscilla and Zoltan. "Know where we can find either one?"

"I don't know about Whoreson," Zoltan said. "But Reuven runs a bathhouse. Careful, though... he's a dangerous character."

"So am I," Geralt said.

"I don't doubt it..." Priscilla said, worry in her voice. "But Jaskier's not. I beg you to hurry. Let me know as soon as you learn anything."

"Well, I've got bugger all to do here. Headin' back to the Rosemary. Got Poppy to feed, and then I suppose I'll wait, see if our warbler don't come home on his own. Take care, now." He then turned and left the room, Geralt following after him.

"Juray," Priscilla said. The Witcher turned towards her. "Whoreson is a degenerate. I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but please be careful with him. He'll see the woman before he sees the Witcher."

"I'll keep my guard up, Priscilla."

"His lair is near the docks on the Temple Island side. Good luck."

Juray easily found the unassuming house and was quite surprised when she was given access without having to resort to Axii. Keeping her guard up, she was taken to Cyprian Wiley, better known as Whoreson Junior. He was adorned with various tattoos and his henchmen looked like they just escaped the circus.

"Now what do I owe the pleasure of such an unexpected meeting?" Whoreson asked.

"Looking for a friend of mine," Juray answered. "Word is you were the last to see him."

"And whose word would that be?"

"And what makes you think I would tell you my sources?"

Whoreson chuckled. "Would be smart of you not to tell me, indeed." He motioned to the nearby chair. "Please. Take a seat."

"I'd rather stand."

"So untrusting."

"I know your reputation, Whoreson."

Whoreson smiled. That smile would have sent a chill down any other person's spine, but it only made Juray's hackles rise. "Tell me, who is this friend you're looking for?"

"A bard by the name of Dandelion."

"Ah yes. I know the whoreson. Haven't seen him in a good while. But that's not who you're actually here about."

"What makes you think that?"

"Don't take me for a fucking idiot."

Juray only raised a brow, confused at the accusation.

"Do you think I wouldn't see the similarities? You're here about your daughter, not that fucking bard."

"Daughter?" Juray was genuinely confused.

"Don't play dumb, Witcher. It doesn't suit you. Did you really think I wouldn't notice the ashen hair? You should have hid it."

Juray then realized that Whoreson had seen Ciri. "You've seen Ciri?"

"Aye. I've seen the little bitch. She owes me. But because she seems to have fled the city, you'll be the one to pay for it."

Juray started to reach for her steel sword when she noticed both Temple Guard and Witch Hunters joining them. She'd beaten many a monster much bigger than her, even a higher vampire, but being this outnumbered was not going to work in her favor.

"So you're going to join your bard friend. Tell him I said hello."

Juray backed away, knowing her only other option was to run.

"Come quietly, Witcher," a Guard said.

"Well, you don't know me very well do you?" She spun around and darted towards the window, crashing through it.

"After her!"

Juray caught herself on the balcony railing before launching herself towards the next one. She landed on the street and sprinted away. Her plan was to lose them in the city's tight streets before doubling around and returning to the Rosemary. She made it across the bridge from Temple Island and headed into the poorer district. She knew her Witcher abilities would help her in her escape, but she was not counting on the Temple Guard and Witch Hunters having their own plan. She felt something bite into her left shoulder and she gave a cry as townsfolk scattered. Juray knew then that she'd been hit by a crossbow bolt and she went to plan B. She darted down an alleyway, fully planning on escaping by the rooftops using the agility that came with the mutations. Another bolt hit one of her swords and bounced off, but the next hit the back of her thigh and she stumbled into the wall of the dead end.

"It's over, freak," the Witch Hunter responsible said as he put away his crossbow. "You have nowhere to run. Give yourself up."

Juray drew her steel sword, seeing only two had managed to keep up with her. "See, I don't give up easily."

"Come with us or we'll have to kill you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Suit yourself."

The two Witch Hunters attacked and Juray defended herself, cutting down one and giving the other a taste of his own actions when she used Igni on him before scaling the wall to the roof using the balconies and clotheslines stretched between the two buildings.

Juray didn't know how long she'd been in her current position focusing her enhanced hearing before her pursuers finally gave up. With her limbs stiff and her wounds throbbing, she slowly started to make her way over the roofs, heading towards the red-light district, as she could see the roof of the Rosemary from where she was.

"This is going to be a long walk," she muttered.

She hadn't removed the bolts from her body yet, as she couldn't reach the one in her shoulder and the angle of the one in her thigh was preventing her from pulling it out cleanly, thus making each step painful. She had passed into the higher class district of the city when a tile came loose under her foot and she tumbled downwards. Luckily, she landed on a spacious balcony. Unluckily, she landed hard on her stomach and broke a potted plant in the process. Juray gave a hiss of pain as her thigh throbbed even more.

"That was graceful," she said to herself.

She hissed in pain again as she tried to raise herself up, bracing herself with her right arm. She knew the bolts needed to come out and quickly. She started to raise herself into a sitting position when she heard a voice behind her.

"Don't move," the female voice said.

Juray knew she was caught and she didn't know if she could manage to escape this time.