Priscilla's face lit up upon seeing Juray walk into her room with Geralt.

"Juray!" she cried. "I heard what happened. I'm glad you are unscathed."

"I wasn't unscathed, but we're not here about me."

"Oh?"

"Remember me telling you that Triss had an idea on how to free Jaskier and that we needed to find Dudu in order to do it?"

"Yes, but you never told me this plan."

"Our doppler friend will assume Menge's form, order Jaskier moved to Oxenfurt. We can grab him on the way."

"Brilliant, but how do you aim to find Dudu?"

"You're his friend. Any idea where he might be hiding?"

"I think it would be more as whom than where," Juray said. "I can sense him well enough, but Novigrad isn't small and we haven't the time for me to search the city block by block."

"Juray's right. In the past, facing trouble, he'd disappear, then reappear on the morrow as someone else. But this time...? This time he hasn't returned."

"And for good reason. No doubt he saw what happened to Chapple."

Priscilla nodded.

"We need to convince Dudu to reveal himself," Geralt said. "Any friends we could leave a message with, someone he trusts...?"

"Jaskier, Irina Renard's troupe... that's all, really. I'm not certain he was friendly with anyone else. Spent dawn to dusk with the troupe, on stage or in the crowd..."

"So he liked going to the mummings...?"

"Yes. I'm actually surprised he didn't come to us after it all happened. He certainly could've counted on the foxen's help..."

"So if these mummers are ready to help..."

"We need only mention Dudu. Irina and company are deeply indebted to him."

"So a play's the thing," Juray said. "We can work a message to Dudu into something. Lure him out of hiding that way."

"Not a bad idea, but I doubt a few lines would suffice. Besides, do you really think Dudu whiles away his days attending mummings he knows by heart?"

"Then we need a new play."

"Juray, you are a genius! We must write an entire new play, from scratch. Something grand, something that will grab Dudu's attention. So most importantly, it must have a splendid title. It must be the talk of the town. If you wish, we can start on it right away."

"That would be your job." Juray motioned between herself and Geralt. "We're obviously not gifted in the arts, especially not in the written word."

"Great! Any ideas for the plot?"

"Actually, I was hopin'..." Geralt began.

"The key is to convince Dudu that he can rely on you. And that we wish to free Jaskier. The message must be clear, though naturally woven into the play's dramaturgical essence, meaning we need an appropriate dramatic structure. Following along?"

Geralt had a confused look on his face.

"More or less," Juray responded, seeming to grasp the concept a bit better than her fellow Witcher.

"That'll do." Priscilla continued to give them the crash course in writing a play. "Now to find the proper expressive form for our content. A gripping, contemporary story, that'd be best. Perhaps about the condotteiri of Poviss?" She tapped her lips. "I know! Lorenzo Molla. A tale of a handsome but ruthless bandit... and the doppler who manages to fool him. But now the doppler must hide and can only count on the help of his friend, who's a Witcher... who, in turn, is prepared to do anything to save his daugh... No, better – his beloved. Hmm... What do you think?"

"Or we can do a tale inspired by Duny and Pavetta," Juray suggested. "Normal people adore tales like that, right?" She knew Geralt was glaring at her at this point. She didn't have to look over at him to feel his gaze boring into her.

"Perfect!" Priscilla all but squealed. "The Urcheon of Erlenwald! Secret lovers, their betrothal, a curse, a cruel queen, bells sounding midnight..." Priscilla headed to her desk.

"Uh..." Geralt started.

"At which point he reveals his face!" She sat down and gathered parchment and a quill and ink. "He's a monster, there to steal Princess Pavetta! They want him dead, but at that instant, a Witcher steps in! And everything ends splendidly. So, it's settled, yes?" She looked over at Geralt. "You wished to say something?"

Geralt could see he was outnumbered on this. "We need a good title. Venture to say that's more important than the story itself."

Priscilla turned in her chair. "I've some ideas. Perhaps you can choose."

"Gonna consider my opinion this time? Or just Juray's."

"Don't be jealous I had a better idea than you did."

Geralt glared at her again.

"Of course. We're partners in this. I'm just in charge."

Geralt rolled his eyes as Juray snorted a laugh.

"I've two really good ones: The Doppler's Salvation and A Changeling Rescued, or the Witcher's Triumph. Which do you prefer?"

"Let's go with The Doppler's Salvation," Geralt suggested. "It's shorter, catchier."

"And easier to advertise," Juray added.

Priscilla nodded. "Agreed."

"Just one problem," Geralt pointed out. "No dopplers in that story. Just a princess and a cursed urcheon."

"Then we turn the urcheon into a doppler," Juray said. "Easy fix. It's based on Duny and Pavetta anyway."

"Have you considered mumming if this Witcher thing falls through? You've a head for these kind of things. The message, Geralt, that's what's important. A Witcher arrives and saves the doppler. Got it?"

"All right. So it's a comedy?" Geralt asked.

Juray groaned.

"I was thinking more along dramatic lines, but if you'd prefer something lighter... Listen, merely decide and I'll get to work."

"I think drama would work better," Juray suggested.

Geralt nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"Very well. I must get to work." Priscilla turned back to her parchment. "While you... pick a corner, sit down, read silently... or just think? All right?"

"Fine. Since you don't need help with the writing..." Geralt turned away and headed over to the table Juray had already sat down at.

"Wait. A rhyme for 'Witcher'?"

"Err...'did itch her'?" Geralt respond.

"Oh for fuck's sake...," Juray said with a laugh.

"Ugh. Just keep quiet. You're dreadful."

Geralt and Juray played a few rounds of Gwent before they grew bored of that. Geralt eventually fell asleep in the chair he was occupying while Juray ended up thumbing through a book in Priscilla's library before she too napped with her head on the table. But being such a light sleeper, she awoke the moment Priscilla pushed her chair back and stood.

"Oh, sorry," she said once she saw Juray's head pop up. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Light sleeper. Comes with the territory of being a Witcher."

"Ah. Well, I'm done." She set the play she'd written on the table as Juray nudged Geralt with her foot, he instantly waking himself. "I could make a small masterpiece of this had I a bit more time, but..."

"We're fresh out of that. The hidden message to Dudu, what'd you weave it in?"

"Hidden message?"

"You were gonna work something in, like 'Come to the Kingfisher at dawn' or..."

"That wouldn't be in keeping with the tone of the play! Not at all!"

"You wrote it to contact Dudu! That was the purpose... Fine, so how do you see this working?"

"I think the title would grab his attention to begin with," Juray said as she read through the script. "That should be enough for him to show up. Along with this line: No monster is he whose shape can shift. He'll no doubt know we mean him no harm."

"I was counting on recognizing him by his scar... or just improvising?" Priscilla said.

"I'll be there. We won't have to worry about recognizing him."

"What do you mean we don't have to worry about recognizing him?"

"Normal Witchers can't sense dopplers, but a fluke of birth allows me to be able to. All he has to do is show up and I'll know he's there."

"Ah. Alright then...You two must take the script to Madame Irina. The troupe performs in the Butchers' Yard, off the main square."

Juray picked up the script. "We can find it."

The Witchers found the troupe doing a rehearsal, a woman with brown hair, wearing a purple and blue top and dark brown pants with a teal sash standing in the middle of the benches directing.

"Almost," she said. "That was almost it, but-but..."

"Well?" the actor on stage asked. "What was wrong that time?"

"I don't know anymore... It simply needs more fire!"

The actor sighed as Geralt and Juray approached her.

"Madame Irina?" Geralt asked. "Can we talk?"

She turned, looking like she was ready to berate whoever disturbed her. That look suddenly melted to delight. "Geralt of Rivia!" she exclaimed. Her eyes then went to Juray. "And you must be Juray of Riverdell. Dandelion's told us so much about the two of you! Is he with you?"

"No, but we hope to bring him back soon. Here to talk about Dudu."

"Let's speak in my quarters, at the back of the theater. We'll be undisturbed there." They followed Irina to her office. "How can I help? We've not seen Dandelion or Dudu recently..."

"We're going to be straight with you," Juray said. "Dandelion's in trouble."

"That much I guessed, though I am curious how serious it is. Did he seduce a powerful man's wife and go into hiding? Or did he write an offensive couplet about the priests of the Eternal Fire?"

"Both of those do sound like him."

"Worse," Geralt answered. "Lots. I'm gonna try to help him. Gotta contact Dudu first."

"But he's disappeared as well."

"Have a plan to lure him out of hiding, but I need your help. Can we count on you?"

"Naturally, but can we possibly do...?"

Juray held out Priscilla's script. "We wanna stage a play. Something that'll really draw the crowds."

"And you hope it will get Dudu's attention as well, draw him here." Irina took the script from Juray. "And you've already written an entirely new play? Didn't know Witchers were versed in playwriting.

"We're not, but Priscilla is. This is her masterpiece. Tells the story of a Witcher who saves a doppler from certain death."

"Hm, sounds interesting. I'll gladly have a glance, but first we must think about getting the word out and organizing some protection, ushers. Would you mind tending to these matters?"

"A play about dopplers could be controversial...," Geralt agreed. "But are ushers absolutely necessary?"

"Can't be sure if you've attended many performances, but Novigrad crowds can be particularly... difficult."

"Rotten apples, tomatoes, eggs, that sort of thing?"

"Axes, butchers' knives, and bricks, usually."

"Critics are tough around here, huh?" Juray commented.

"All right... Know anyone appropriate?"

"Try the docks, perhaps. You're bound to find some men willing to do any work for a few crowns."

"What about getting the word out?" Juray asked.

"Well, we'd like all the city to hear about it, so we must clearly talk to the Puffins."

"Who're the Puffins?"

"Street artists. Get them to announce the premiere and even the mussels on the harbor piling will hear about it."

"Where do we find them?" Geralt asked.

"They did occupy some room in the Bits, in a townhouse, but I can't be sure they're still there. I've not seen them in the streets lately. They may very well have hung up their body hose..."

I'll see if I can find the Puffins and if they'll work for us." Juray turned to Geralt. "You see if you can get the ushers from the dockworkers. They're more likely to listen to you than me."

"Sounds like a plan."

While Geralt headed towards the docks, Juray headed towards the Bits, soon finding the house the Puffins were occupying. The door was unlocked and Juray could hear a lute playing a sad song. When she entered, she saw a man standing on a table juggling, a woman playing the lute, and another elven woman sitting in a corner looking sullen.

"Nice tune," Juray commented from the doorway. "Damn sad though."

The woman put down her lute. "Then it successfully conveys my mood... What do you seek here?"

"Looking for the Puffins..." Juray stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Have I found them?"

"We've no coin," the elven woman said. "Leave us be!"

"Think there's been a mistake..."

She looked over at the others before looking back at Juray. "Sorry... Thought our landlord had hired another thug to collect from us..."

"Another thug? Flattered. Thanks."

"Forgive us...," the woman with the lute said. "Despite being a woman, you look threatening, and we've had our fair share of trouble lately."

"Nissa's on edge these days," the man said. "We all are."

"I definitely don't want any coin from you. In fact, I'm willing to pay you, provided you agree to get the word out about Madame Irina's new play."

All three looked at Juray like she'd grown horns and a forked tail.

"Afraid that's impossible...," the man said. "Ever since we premiered our fateful ballad about 'Holy Hemmelfart, who his faith ignores, gorges himself, diddles old whores,' Fatso's gang has been harassing us incessantly..."

"Fatso's gang?"

"Common thugs in the Church's pay. City's full of gangs like that now."

"They threatened Nissa," the woman said. "Said they'd round off her pointy ears with a carving knife."

Nissa nodded. "They don't let us perform, chase away spectators, destroy our instruments. Lately, they've taken to lurking outside our home. We're at wit's end, no clue what to do..."

"They harm any of you?"

"No, not yet," the man said. "But it's merely a question of time."

"Nissa overheard talking about setting fire to something."

"All right...." Juray said. "Say I get Fatso and his boys to leave you alone. Will you publicize Irina's play then?"

"Of course," Nissa said. "But...." she looked at the others. "You shan't find it easy. There's no talking to that lot..."

"Thugs don't usually take me seriously anyway. I'll handle it."

Juray focused her hearing and soon found the gang harassing a man, having him trapped against the wall.

"I dare you to say it again!" one said.

"I didn't say nothin'!" the man protested, his voice quivering.

"Not enough that he's a heretic, he's also a liar," another gang member said. "What'll we do with 'im?"

"We'll bruise his kidneys unless he's got somethin' in that pouch."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Juray said, walking up to them. "You must be some big men to beat up on some that can't fight back."

The three men turned to Juray.

"Oi, Fatso, look what we got here. Is it just me, or you got cat eyes?"

"Right she does! Stray cat must've fucked 'er mum!"

Juray rolled her eyes as he laughed. "Haven't heard that one before," she said drily.

"Now what you doin' in the city of the Eternal Fire, catshit?" The man Juray pegged as Fatso asked.

"I'm only gonna ask you nicely once," Juray said. "Leave the Puffins alone."

"Worms that insulted Hierarch Hemmelfart?" the first bandit asked. "Called him a whoremonger? I'd sooner snuff out the Holy Flame itself!"

"Tell them fuckin' poets to come down here," Fatso said. "Shove their flutes up their blasphemin' arseholes!"

"Yeah, they'll play a different tune then, every time they fart!" The third bandit laughed again.

"Is that seriously the best you got? You need to work on your insults. They're pathetic." Juray's practiced fingers cast Axii. "Not gonna ask again. Leave the Puffins alone."

"Okay," the first bandit said, turning to walk away. The other two seemed to have stronger minds than their fellow, as her curse enhanced Axii didn't latch onto them.

"What the hell?" the comedic bandit asked.

"Black magic!" Fatso shouted. "She's a fuckin' witch, get 'er!"

"That's fucking Witcher to you," Juray corrected.

They drew their swords and came after her. Juray didn't even bother with drawing hers. Fatso charged at her and she dodged to her left, grabbing his sword arm and using his momentum to slam the hilt of his own sword into his face. He gave a cry and dropped the sword and she rolled over his back, kicking the bandit that Axii had latched onto in the head. He went down and the one that thought he was funny charged at her and she vaulted him over her shoulder and he landed hard on top of Fatso. Juray spun around, ready to take them on again as Fatso shoved his man off him, picking up his sword and holding his nose.

"I apparently got the street fighting skill from my tomcat father," Juray said.

Fatso hesitated a moment and Juray beckoned him to come at her. Fatso did and Juray dodged again, landing a punch to his temple. Fatso staggered and fell into the building they were next to.

"Had enough yet? Or do I need to show more claw?"

"We'll leave the Puffins alone, dammit." Fatso stood unsteadily, his men dragging themselves upright. "Let's go, boys. Leg it!" They retreated.

"Tha... thank you," the man that they had cornered said. "Thank you."

The Puffins must have heard the commotion and had joined Juray on the street.

"Ah, what a sight!" the man said excitedly. "You really showed them! One, two... Over the back! Then, pow! Right in the noggin..."

"Glad it was entertaining for you."

"I'll finally be able to leave my home without hiding beneath a hood." Nissa genuinely smiled. "Thank you... very much!"

"It was nothing," Juray said. "They deserved it."

"Oh, it was something all right!" the woman said. "And don't dare think we've forgotten our promise. We'll strip our voices ragged praising Irina's new play!"

"How much'll I owe you?" Juray asked.

"Not a copper!" Nissa said. "Helped us out. See no reason why we shouldn't help you. Get half the town to come to the play, wait and see!"

"Some quick preparations and we'll be out in the streets!" the man said.

"Come back to the house and tell us the basics of the play," the woman said. "So we'll know how to advertise it."

Juray returned to find Geralt already there.

"It's not at all badly written," Irina was saying. "In fact, I quite like it! I was willing to relax my standards to help Dudu, but we may have something very interesting here. I've very clear ideas on who to cast as the Servant, the Witcher, and the Queen. But I'm not certain who should play the Prince and the Princess..."

"Who's playing the Witcher?" Geralt asked.

"An amateur. It'll be my first time working with him. But I'm confident he'll pull it off."

"Newcomer to the troupe?"

"In a sense... Oh, stop pretending you don't know. I'm talking about you."

Juray smirked as she leaned against a table.

"I'm no actor. Might not have noticed, but I'm a little low on emotional expression."

"But that's perfect. After all, you're to play the Witcher, not the Princess."

Juray snorted a laugh. "I don't know, him playing the Princess would draw one hell of a crowd."

Geralt gave her a look.

"Besides, you must appear on stage. Dudu must see you. It's the crux of this entire endeavor."

"Why can't Juray be the one to play the Witcher?"

"Because I need to be in the crowd. Besides, it'll be more believable to have you be the Witcher."

"Why?"

"You don't have tits."

"Fair enough. Just never thought I'd have to do something like this..."

"At least you don't have to wear a doublet."

Irina chuckled. "You'll be fine, dear. You need only strut on stage, great sword in hand, furl your brow, make some threatening faces, then deliver a few lines in a gravelly voice. Think you can manage?"

"He does that on a daily basis, shouldn't be too hard."

"Maybe you should play the Princess, Juray."

"Just because I can act like a noble doesn't mean I'm a mummer. Besides, Princesses don't have scars like these." She motioned toward the scars on her jaw and throat.

"I actually had someone else in mind for the Princess," Irina said. "Priscilla would be the obvious choice, she's young and beautiful. Yet I do have more stage experience..."

"Let's have Priscilla do it," Geralt said. "No offense, but most people..."

"...assign greater importance to appearance than to talent. I understand." Irina sounded slightly disappointed. "I shall let her know... I'm certain she'll be wonderful."

"She did captivate Geralt the first time he saw her perform," Juray pointed out.

"Then that is good."

"What about the Doppler-Prince?" Geralt asked.

"I'm finding it hard to decide between two candidates. Abelard Rizza would be the safer bet. He's been part of our troupe for ages, has flawless technique... but he doesn't exactly captivate the crowds."

"And the other actor?"

"Maxim Boliere. Outstanding actor and audiences love him, but sadly I can never be sure he'll show up sober. Or that he'll show up at all."

"I don't think we should risk the part to an unreliable actor. We should go with Abelard."

"Agreed. The project is risky enough without our casting Maxim."

"All right, got the cast figured out."

"It seems so. Prepared to plunge headlong into your career as a mummer?"

"I can't wait to see this," Juray said.

"You're enjoying this too much."

"So? This is much more fun than seeing how thoroughly I can kick Lambert's ass or how long it'll take Vesemir to lose his temper with us."

"Do you two actually do that on purpose to annoy Vesemir?"

"No, but me and Eskel take bets on how long it'll take. Especially if Lambert had a bad year."

Geralt shook his head with a smirk.

"Hey, it gets boring there during winter. Gotta entertain myself somehow."

Zoltan walked into the room at that moment.

"Zoltan?" Geralt asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Prissy told me you lot're puttin' on a play, with you playin' the lead..."

"I'm not the lead..."

"So I thought to meself, I'd sooner shave me beard than miss that! Tell me, Witcher, you gonna wear hose and a codpiece?"

Juray burst into laughter at the mental image.

"Come, Geralt," Irina said. "You must focus your mind before you go on stage."

"Good luck!" Zoltan said.

"Come on. He needs to memorize his lines like they're a bestiary. And I need to let Priscilla know she got a part in her own play."