The Witch Hunter poked his head over the walls, looking down at who was banging at the gate to see a Witcher and a hooded woman.

"Whaddaya want?"

"Here for my reward!" the Witcher called.

"What the hell for?"

"For a witch! Recognize who I got?" The Witcher pulled the woman's hood down, revealing a mane of red hair. "It's Triss Merigold!"

"Merigold?! Come in, then!"

Geralt knew that it was too late to back out now and stepped into the compound with Triss, where they were met by several Witch Hunters.

"Well, well..." one said. "Triss Merigold." He looked at Geralt. "Given up drowners for sorceresses?"

"Pay's better," Geralt said with a shrug.

"It's 'cause they do more harm," another Hunter said. "What's a drowner do? Pull the odd fisherman from his boat? But the witches, they murder kings. Scheme. Start wars."

"Don't forget turning your cows' milk sour straight out of the udder," Triss smarted off, earning her a backhand from the Hunter.

Geralt's clinched his fist, wanting to punch the man but stopping himself, knowing he had to stick to the plan.

"You're done jesting, Merigold," the first Hunter said. "For good. Put her in a cell."

"Not so fast," Geralt said. "I hand her over to Menge himself." He narrowed his eyes at the Hunter, his voice darkening. "Or not at all."

"You reckon we don't what to do with this witch?" a third said, grabbing Triss' arm roughly.

"Let go, you bastard," Triss said.

"Vulgar tongue's got no place bein' in such a pretty mouth. I guess we'll have to rip it out."

Geralt managed to keep his sarcasm in check. "Try to loosen it, if I were you. Might learn something interesting."

"For instance?"

"For instance, where Philippa Eilhart's hiding."

"I'll get you for this, you...," Triss' curse was cut off.

"Shut your gob, ginger whore!" the second said, testing Geralt's resolve, and promise, once again. "And you spit it out, where's Eilhart?!"

"Thought I made myself clear: I'll only talk to Menge."

"Menge don't talk to the likes of you."

"Well, then you be sure and tell him I came by. With my friend Merigold." He took Triss' arm and started to pull her back towards him.

"Fine... Grab her and come with me. But be sure to stay right close."

The Hunters led them through the fortress, stopping outside Menge's office.

"Here's where we split up. Go meet Menge. Merigold'll be next door."

"You can't have her until I get —"

"You don't set the terms here!" the Hunter snapped. "Dirk! You know what to do."

Dirk, a large man that looked to be a torturer stepped forward.

"You won't get a word out of me," Triss said definitely. "Not you, not him."

"Playin' tough, eh?" Dirk said. "Just you wait... We'll take a fingernail or three. That oughta get you singin'." He pulled her towards the other room. "Come on, witch... Show you the wonders a pair of pliers can work. You'll be surprised."

Geralt knew it was going to take all his willpower to keep to the plan.

Geralt was led into Menge's office. Menge was behind his desk, doing paperwork.

"I believe I told you not to let anyone in," he said, without looking up from his business.

"Unless they had information concernin' Philippa Eilhart... This Witcher says he's got just that."

Menge looked up at the mention of "Witcher".

"Anyone can claim that."

Triss suddenly gave a scream from next door and Geralt had to clear all emotion from his face.

"But it's not that easy to bring us Triss Merigold."

"Is that who I hear...?" Menge's tune suddenly changed. "Very well. I'll go see her shortly. But first," he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "Let us talk. Sit, sit."

Geralt sat and Menge poured a glass of wine for the both of them.

"Have a drink, Witcher."

Geralt took the glass he was offered and drank, noticing how closely Menge was watching him. "Cidarian."

Menge looked impressed. "A 1261 vintage. Year of the massacre of Cintra."

Triss screamed again in the other room, Geralt clinching his fist where neither Hunter nor Menge could see.

"Kurt, please see why Miss Merigold squeals so convincingly. Perhaps she needs something? Hot irons, for instance?"

Kurt left the room.

"Speaking of metal..." Geralt said. "This goblet's silver. Making sure I'm not a doppler?"

Menge leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. "Ah, it's immediately apparent, a professional. I find that refreshing. But to answer your question: one can never be too careful. You'd be surprised how many who come here turn to rancid jelly as soon as they grip the goblet."

This must have been how Chapple had been caught.

"Got a silver sword on my back. That not enough?"

"It proves nothing. Dopplers can change their bodies at will, into materials that look and feel like silver as well... Materials that have none of silver's useful properties, naturally."

"See you're an expert on dopplers."

"I'd expect a Witcher of all... things... to understand the value of knowing one's enemy."

Geralt was beginning to find it harder to act like a heartless Witcher each time Triss screamed, his enhanced hearing allowing him to hear every threat and taunt her torturers were doing.

"Now, let us talk shop. I shall pay you twice the usual reward for Merigold."

"Awfully generous. Why?"

"Well...," Menge gave a demented smile. "You've turned in your lover." Why did everyone assume they were still together? "The emotional trauma it must entail... you deserve compensation."

"You seem well informed... So you have to know Triss betrayed me first, used me as a pawn in the Lodge's game. As I see it, she's getting what she deserved." He hoped Menge bought the lie.

"You surprise me... Geralt. Perhaps we can do a deal after all. So. You know something about Philippa... But I wager you won't share this information for free. What do you want in return?"

"It's simple... Free Dandelion." To Geralt, Jaskier was much more important than some stupid treasure. Especially since his closest friend could direct him to where Ciri went.

"A degenerate bard for information about Philippa... Tempting offer, I must admit. But I must say no. You see, I've a magnificent execution planned for Dandelion. In Oxenfurt. A breaking wheel, flaying alive and so forth... It should work wonders on the morals of the academic youth and townsfolk."

"When's this morally instructive spectacle due to take place?"

"When I issue the order. In person. Dandelion will remain in the dungeons beneath Temple Isle until then. So sorry I can't be of help... Perhaps we can agree on different terms?" Menge stood, dropping papers into the brazier. Geralt had a feeling they had something to do with Dijkstra's treasure. "But first let's see how Miss Merigold fares. It's... It's grown suspiciously quiet in there. Come."

Menge and Geralt headed over to the next room.

The moment Menge opened the door, he saw his men lying on the floor. He rushed into the room to see what happened. Geralt immediately looked for Triss. She was striding towards them, an intense look on her face as she was focused on Menge. Menge knew he was screwed, judging by the look on his face. Before he could even call the guards, Triss locked him in a spell. Geralt could see the blood running down her hand from where her nails had been pulled out during her torture.

"He say where Jaskier is?" she asked, rage in her voice.

"Yes... But..."

Before Geralt could finish, Triss plunged a dagger under his chin, the spell keeping him from crying out. His eyes widened as the life fled them.

"Triss," Geralt gently took her arm and she released the spell, Menge falling lifelessly to the floor. He then took her hand to examine the damage.

"I'm fine," she said, pulling her hand away. "Well... mostly fine. Should heal in time for my wedding."

"Sorry. Shoulda gotten you out sooner..."

"Don't apologize. I knew what I was signing up for."

Geralt looked back down at Menge. "How do I say this...? That," He motioned to the corpse. "Was just a bit premature."

"What do you mean?"

"Menge said Jaskier's locked up on Temple Isle. Dungeon right under the temple. He was planning to execute him in Oxenfurt... Also said they'd only let Jaskier out of his cell once Menge gave the order... in person."

Triss' eyes widened. "Shit... I'm sorry, Geralt... I... should've thought this through, but... When I saw him, I..."

Geralt turned her to face him. "After what they subjected you to... No need to explain."

"He... He'd never have agreed to help us... Even if I..."

"I know. Let's not dwell on this. We should think about what to do next..."

"Jaskier's safe for now... Though out of reach. We don't stand a chance of breaking him out. Temple Isle's impregnable... And Menge's not likely to order his transfer, or anyone's for that matter..."

"Saw Menge burn a sheet of paper, right before we came in here."

"Could've been something on it that would've helped us. Argh, too late now." She crouched next to Menge's body.

"So, there's no way you can recover the note...?"

"I'm a sorceress, not a miracle worker." Triss started to search Menge's body. "Could have something on him something that'll help us..." She searched through his pockets. "Just his office key in his pockets." Next was the belt. "Here... nothing under the belt..." Her hand passed over the coat he was wearing and she stopped. "Wait! Something's sewn in the lining..." She used the knife she'd killed him with to cut open the coat.

"What is it?"

She held up a key. "The key to a vault. Here." She handed it to Geralt. "Give it to Dijkstra with my regards." She then sighed. "Nothing but dead ends... We'll need to make do..."

"We can't break Jaskier out," Geralt may have excelled at impossible tasks, but even he didn't dare to break into Temple Island's dungeon. It was more than impossible: it would have been suicide. "And Menge's the only one who could've ordered Jaskier's release."

"Yes..." a thoughtful look passed over Triss' face. "Or someone who looks exactly like him..."

Geralt looked at Triss. "A doppler?"

"Mhm. Your old friend, Dudu Biberveldt, impersonated the Halfling merchant? Jaskier claimed he'd seemed more real than the original. So much so Vivaldi gave him a loan of several thousand crowns without batting an eye."

"Yeah. Except Dudu's in hiding now. And with Juray missing, it'll be harder to find him."

"Because of that ability of hers?"

"Mhm. She's the only one that can sense anything that the medallions can't. Priscilla might know something, though."

"Fingers crossed. Listen, there is one other thing I wanted to talk about. But not here, not now. Come by when you have a moment? I'd appreciate it. All right... we need to get out of here."

The two managed to sneak out of a side entrance and into an abandoned courtyard.

"This is where we split up," Triss said. "But first..." She looked over her shoulder at the building. "Let's burn this shack down."

"Agreed," Geralt said. "We've left too much evidence."

"Yeah. But I also need to blow off some steam." She gave him a smirk before she started throwing fireballs at the doors and commodities in the courtyard. After having a nice blaze going, she turned back to Geralt, satisfied with her handiwork.

"Feel better?"

"Much. I'm going. You should too." She opened a portal.

"Mhm. Not about to use the teleport, though. See you, Triss."

"See you, Geralt." Triss stepped through the portal and Geralt found a weak spot in the wall and used Aard on it, walking out of the compound like the place wasn't completely on fire.

He hadn't gone far when a man walked up to him.

"You there! Mr. Reuven wants a word."

"Impatient old bastard...," Geralt muttered.

"Wha?"

"Nothing." He motioned toward the lackey. "Lead the way."

The lackey led him to the docks, where they had a nice view of the bonfire that used to be the Witch Hunters compound.

"Who do I spy?" Dijkstra said, leaning against a stone wall. "Why, it's Geralt of Rivia!"

"Will you stop following me already?"

"I will. Soon as you tell me where my treasure is."

"Me and Menge... didn't see eye to eye."

"How badly?"

Geralt motioned towards the burning barracks. "Badly."

"I suppose that explains the smoke... My treasure's not in there, is it? Burning with the Witch Hunters...?"

"Didn't see it anywhere... And twenty tons of gold is hard to miss."

"You mean to say you've come to me empty-handed?"

"First of all, you came to me. Second, I do have something in my hand... The key to a vault. Found it on Menge."

"A vault? That I need to find on my own? You've not made things much easier for me." He held his hand out. "Gimme that." He took the key from Geralt.

"That's all you're gonna say? No wry remark? No scintillating joke?"

Dijkstra laughed. "You want a knee-slapper? Fine, I'll tell you one. Ready?" All humor was wiped from his face. "You lied to me."

"What?"

"You knew from the start who robbed me. But you didn't deign to share that information with me."

Geralt wondered how Dijkstra managed to come by that information.

"No, I didn't. But I did deign to help you find your treasure, so stop moaning."

"I jest you not, Geralt. You abused my trust."

"I can live with that."

"This time, yes, you'll live. And now... Time to settle things."

"That a threat?"

"Quite the contrary." Dijkstra pushed off the wall. "You helped me, Witcher, so in spite of everything you've earned your reward."

"Don't bother. I know what happened to Dandelion."

"Then take my coin." He handed Geralt a large coin purse. "I always pay my debts... Even to liars. And a final humble plea. Don't try to fool me again... ever." He then left with his men, leaving Geralt to go about his business.

Geralt then set his sights on the Kingfisher to update Priscilla as he promised to do.