Cerys looked around at the mess. "Ever see anythin' like that?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Where'd the bears come from? We were all laughin', eatin', drinkin'... Then suddenly – a massacre. Torrents of blood on the walls."

"Since I was still outside when this started, did you see anything? I felt magic and monsters before hearing roars."

"Yo-young Lugos bet he could empty a barrel of beer in one go. He climbed on a table, grabbed a pony keg of Cintrian wheat and started chuggin'. Err, his throat bulged like a blowfish, face went red... but he kept drinkin'. Folk started bangin' their tankards on the table, shouting 'Lu-gos, Lu-gos!' Then, from the other side of the room, we heard this roar! We turned in unison as if a coxswain had called! They were there. They were already there! Folks closest to the bears didn't even manage to draw their weapons. They... they were ripped to shreds."

Juray could tell witnessing it had affected her.

"We'll avenge them. I promise." Juray looked over the blood-splattered walls and the bodies that now littered the hall. "Who was lost?"

"Drogodar, Draig Bon-Dhu, Blueboy Lugos, Halbjorn, Otrygg..." She sighed. "Take some time to mention them all."

Juray frowned. "But you could name the claimants to the throne who survived in one breath – you, Hjalmar, and Svanrige."

Cerys looked at her. "What're you sayin'?"

"Nothing. Just yet." She turned away. "I'm going to take a look around."

"I'll speak to the others. Maybe someone saw something more than I did."

Juray examined the corpses of the dead while Cerys went over to one of the servants and the warrior who was trying to calm her down.

"Pull yourself together, Sinna. How'd they get in?"

"Dunno..." Sinna said. "The gates were shut!"

"Looked away a moment..." the warrior said. "Turned back around, saw a bear standin' by the bench. Tis the gods' doin'. Maybe they're punishin' us."

Juray headed over toward one of the bears.

"For what?" Cerys asked. "You're talkin' rubbish."

"So the tales are true... Warriors in battle frenzy transformed into wild beasts."

Juray knelt next to the bear to examine it.

"Berserkers... But how'd they come to be here?"

If the warrior was correct then that would have explained the magic Juray had felt. She began to poke around the dead bear's head and mouth.

"Bear's head, but the tongue's short, like a human's." Juray took a sniff. "Mouth smells of honey liqueur, mead... and something... earthy. Bears like honey... before it's fermented. Strange." Juray noticed discoloration and moved the fur on the back of the neck away to reveal a tattoo of a bear paw. "I'm pretty sure bears don't get tattoos often." She noticed scaring on the arm. "Or have wound sutured." She stood. "Something had to have caused the transformation. Maybe something he ate..." Juray looked around, noticing the drinking horns scattered everywhere. "Or drank. Everyone was drinking mead... Mead with an earthy aroma. Need to check the horns, tankards, and bowls." Juray went about checking everything that held alcohol until she finally found the same scent from the bear's mouth. "Earthy scent from the bear's maw. Something towards... mushroom? Bowl's empty..." She set it down and sniffed the air. "But the scent's in the air." She stood and followed the scent to a horn by the door. She picked it up and sniffed it. "Mead spiked with some kind of mushroom... and... human blood? This has to be what triggered it." She stood. "Cerys! Come here."

Cerys joined her. "A guard saw what happened. Those weren't bears. They were—"

"Men who transform into bears."

"Berserkers."

"Normally they'd transform in the thick of battle, not at a feast. But I think I know what caused them to transform – the mead they drank." Juray held out the horn. "Smell this. Mead spiked with blood... and something else. Thinking it could be a mushroom, but I don't recognize the type."

"Hjort might help us. Few druids know herbs better."

"Can't hurt to try."

Luckily, Hjort was still at the castle, helping with the wounded.

"Hjort? Do you have a moment?"

"Aye. What can I do for you?"

"Think someone forced a few warriors into their berserker form. Someone spiked one of the mead barrels. With blood and something else, an herb or a mushroom. I haven't been able to identify it."

"Give me the horn." Hjort took a sniff. "I know the smell... A mushroom – mardroeme."

"I'm not familiar with that one."

"You've another name for it on the Continent. Psilocybe, I believe?"

"That name I do know. Peasants eat it to soothe pain."

"Udalryk tried it, too... but only a few times. In larger doses, the mushroom causes visions, nightmares."

"The last thing Udalryk needed more of," Cerys commented.

"Mardroeme related in any way to berserkers?" Juray asked.

"Aye... But only in the tales told to children as they're put to sleep on cold winter nights. Warriors who ate mardroeme were said to transform into beasts when consumed by battle rage. But as I said, it's only..."

"Only a legend, I know." Juray frowned. "Still, I find it easier to believe than some story about bears appearing out of nowhere."

"Thanks for the help," Cerys said.

"Good luck, you two."

Juray and Cerys returned to the hall.

"The mardroeme may have been enough to cause visions in the berserkers," Juray said. "Combine it with the blood and the shouting in the hall..."

"They probably thought they were in battle, which triggered the transformation."

"Mhm. Hard to believe someone spiked the mead here in the hall, though, in front of all those witnesses."

"You're right. I helped prepare for the feast... I'd 'ave noticed. It might've happened before they brought the drink upstairs. In the cellars, maybe? C'mon. We could find some clues there." Cerys led the way to the cellars. "We must find the traitors quickly. Elsewise the warriors will take matters into their own hands. Castle's abuzz already."

"Think they'd attack Crach openly?"

"My father or each other. All in the finest Skellige tradition. Haven't had a good civil war in ages. Knew there'd be trouble. It was all too calm."

"For a Skellige feast to be any good, mead's gotta flow, but so does blood."

"You know us well," Cerys said with a smirk. "I really hope Hjalmar's doin' something useful, not just lookin' for a fight."

"Your brother's impetuous, not stupid. Besides, hopefully, Geralt is keeping him from jumping head first into fights."

"Let's hope so." Cerys opened the door to the cellar and they were hit with a strong scent of alcohol. "Ugh... The stench. Is that vodka?"

"Mahakaman spirit. Someone ruined several barrels of the finest..."

"Good thing da's got other worries on his mind."

"Someone would probably be murdered over this." Juray descended the stairs first and Cerys examined the ruined kegs while Juray searched for the spiked mead. She finally found the spiked barrel, despite the strong smell of Mahakaman vodka. "Blood and mushrooms..." she looked over at Cerys. "Think we can find out where this barrel came from? Looks different from the others."

A lit torch suddenly came flying through the room.

"What the—?"

It landed near them, the spilled Mahakaman instantly alighting.

"Shit!"

"The spirit!"

The two coughed, trapped by the flames.

"There's another exit behind the barrels. But they're too heavy, we'll never move them!"

"We won't have to. Come on!"

Juray used Aard on the barrels, sending splinters everywhere and the two escaped through the door there. Once through, they looked back to see the room now engulfed in flames.

"Gods..." Cerys exclaimed. "We might've been burned alive!"

"Somebody's desperate to bring our investigation to a quick end." Juray looked around. "This a secret passage?"

"One rarely used, more like. When Hjalmar and I were little, we'd play here. Once—" She gave a frustrated grunt. "Bygone days."

They emerged into one of the halls.

"That pyromaniac destroyed our evidence," Juray said.

"They had to use the entrance we used... Maybe they left some prints behind?"

"Maybe. When the door slammed shut and the fire broke out, did you hear a bottle shatter, too?"

"No, but I've no Witcher senses at my disposal. You must hear the hair growin' on my head."

"I try not to eavesdrop," Juray said with a smirk, causing Cerys to chuckle. "Entrance is worth checking. Come on."

They returned to the entrance of the cellar and sure enough, a bottle of alcohol had been spilled. Along with some very clear footprints.

"Someone walked through the mead. Looks like a man's shoe."

They followed the trail until the mead wore off their assailant's shoes."

"Trail breaks off here. Need to find another clue nearby, something else to follow."

"Juray, look." Cerys pointed at a piece of ripped cloth.

Juray took it and examined it, Cerys joining her. "Must've felt his clothing rip, but was in a hurry..."

"No... It can't be!"

"What?"

"Arnvald's tunic! Only he wears this kind!"

"Sure about that?"

"Saw him in the main hall with the servants. Let's go!"

As they stepped through the doorway leading to the main entrance, a horse and rider galloped past them.

"It's him!"

"Grab a horse. We'll chase him down."

Juray took off at a run, giving a whistle. Shadowmount didn't stop as Juray mounted, the mare immediately lurching into a gallop.

Cerys caught up a moment later. "Arnvald! Stop, dammit!"

"Doubt he'll listen..."

"When I get my hands on him..."

They closed the distance between them and him.

"You don't stand a chance!" Juray shouted.

"We'll see about that!" Arnvald returned the shout.

Juray smiled to herself, knowing he didn't know her horseback tricks. "Fly, Shadowmount," she said, laying low in the saddle.

Shadowmount quickly caught up to Arnvald, catching the servant by surprise. Juray then leapt off her horse, crashing into Arnvald and sending them both tumbling to the ground. They rolled several feet before coming to a stop. Juray was on her feet and had the dagger Crach had given her against Arnvald's throat before he could even regain his bearings.

"Hah!" Cerys said when she caught up with them. "Got him!"

"Why'd you betray them?" Juray asked. "Talk. Or I'll finish what I started."

"No an Craite should ever sit on Skellige's throne," he spat. "I know you better than others do – you're hot-headed, irresponsible... Skellige needs stability, a strong king. Not the kind a band of drunken jarls will choose."

"Funny. That sounds exactly like someone we all know."

"Curious," Cerys said. "Never heard you voice that idea. But I do know one who never stops saying it. She's behind this, isn't she?"

"Yes," Arnvald admitted, having the decency to look ashamed. "Birna Bran."

"What was her motive?" Juray asked.

"It's obvious. She schemed this up to get rid of the other claimants, slander our clan in the process. If she'd succeeded, Svanrige would've been left the only claimant to Skellige's throne."

"Everyone needs to hear this. Let's get back to Kaer Trolde." Juray hauled Arnvald to his feet.

"Will you tell the council of jarls of the plot?" Cerys asked.

"I will. I was ready to die for Birna... But not like this!"

Cerys turned to Juray. "The Thing will need to convene. Let's go!"

The Council of Jarls was called. Geralt and Hjalmar had been able to track down a Druid that was making berserkers, but hadn't been able to question him before he took his own life with poison. They weren't able to find who had been behind it all.

"I've assembled the jarls in council as you demanded, Cerys an Craite," Donar said. "You claim to know who's behind the slaughter at Kaer Trolde. Speak, then! The blood of Skellige's sons and daughters – whose hands does it stain?"

Cerys looked at Birna. "Birna Bran's."

Everyone looked at Birna, who only scoffed.

"The lass is mad," she said. "Do you think anyone will believe you?"

"You had them serve poisoned mead to the berserkers."

"I beg your pardon! The servants at Kaer Trolde are not mine to command! 'Twas your father who called for the feast, who assembled the guests!"

"There's reason in these words...," Holgar said.

"Have you any proof to confirm your accusation?" Donar asked.

"I've better. I've a witness. Arnvald!"

Arnvald stepped forward. "Cerys speaks true. Birna commanded me to poison the mead."

Juray noticed the look Svanrige gave his mother.

"When Cerys and the witcher descended into the cellars—"

"You betrayed us?" Crach said angrily. "The clan that took you in?!"

"Good men!" Birna said calmly. "He's a servant to an Craite, a lackey! He will say what they command him to say! He would lie for them even if he were to pay for it with his head!"

"Birna speaks true," Lugos said. "Arnvald has served at Kaer Trolde ever since I remember. Loyally, like a dog."

"I can vouch for Cerys," Juray said. "She's telling the truth."

"You?" Birna scoffed. "Yet another an Craite lackey? Did Cerys entice you to cooperate? Or has Crach paid you to smear my name?"

"What did you say?!" Crach's face was red with anger.

"Calm yourselves!" Donar interceded.

"After what I saw on Spikeroog," Udalryk said. "I trust the Witcher. More than I do you."

"You've that right," Birna said. "But it's no proof of my guilt."

"Got one more piece of evidence," Juray added, holding up a letter Arnvald had given them on the way back to the castle.

"A letter from Birna to Arnvald," Cerys said as Juray handed it to Donar. "Instructing him on how to spike the mead."

Birna looked at the letter. "It lacks my signature. It lacks my seal."

"But the hand is that of a woman, and you—"

Birna laughed. "Is this your proof, lass? Is this what you call evidence of my supposed treason? Don't make me laugh." She did anyway.

"Birna's right, Cerys," Donar said. "'Tis all precious little proof of her wrongdoin'. Alas, your brother Hjalmar also has not presented anythin' that could clear your family's name... We've but one path left to us." He turned to the others. "Holger! Lugos! It's time we quit this damn castle. Come, we must decide what punishment Clan an Craite will face."

"You're making a big mistake," Juray said.

"Silence, wanderer," Birna said.

"Sorry, Crach," Geralt said.

"Wait!" Svanrige suddenly said. Birna had an annoyed look on her face. "Mother... You bade me to leave the hall before the feast. Why?"

"Son... Not now."

"Why did you do it?! How did you know?! How?!"

Birna said nothing.

"You stand silent." Svanrige turned to the jarls. "You gave Cerys no credence. Gave the Witcher no credence. But you must give credence to a son who accuses his own mother. The massacre was her doing. She's shamed herself." He turned back to Birna, who backed away with a horrified look on her face. "Me, the family... the clan!"

"Svanrige... I did it for you! Only for you!"

Svanrige turned away from her, disgusted. Juray and Geralt looked at each other, both surprised by the turn of events.

"You admit to this deed?" Donar asked before turning to Crach. "As the eldest of the jarls, I cleanse the name of Clan an Craite..." He turned back toward Birna. "And you, Birna Bran, I sentence to death. You will be chained to a rock to perish of hunger and thirst, and sea fowl will peck apart your remains."

Juray couldn't think of a more brutal death as Birna was led away, the jarls following not long after.

"Glad you were able to find something," Geralt said as he joined Juray at the spot where the council had made their judgment. "All we found was how they made berserkers."

Juray was leaned over, her forearms resting on the cold stone, the sea breeze playing with the strands of hair that had escaped her braid. "Well, Arnvald tried to burn us alive. But I'm glad in the end he decided to come clean."

"Me too. Just didn't think she'd do something like that."

"Birna had a lust for power," Crach said as he approached them and Juray straightened. "I knew this... But so strong as to commit such a crime?"

"What about Svanrige?" Juray asked. "What's his fate?"

"He'll lose his home, his name, his honor. He'll choose exile... or death. Hm, but enough. Whatever comes, we must endure. I thank you, Juray. Again."

"No need. Again."

"What is it with Witchers and modesty. This is a land of heroes! Let this remind you of that."

Juray gave a laugh.

"And now... I must ride for Geddyneith, for the jarls' council. Time to pick a king. Or queen."

"What do you think?" Geralt asked. "Who'll get the nod?"

"Come with me, see for yourself. All may listen to our deliberations."

"Wouldn't hurt," Juray said. "I have a horse in this race after all."

They arrived at Geddyneith, a large ancient oak tree the Islanders used for special occasions, such as coronations. A platform, set in the hull of a longboat, sat in front of the tree, the Skellige flag hanging between two posts. On a small, stone pedestal in front of the flag sat the crown of Skellige. On either side of the platform stood Cerys and Hjalmar, awaiting the jarls' decision. They seemed to have finally made a decision as the Witchers and Crach arrived, the jarl having been excused to keep from having to choose between his children.

"We're just in time," Crach said as Donar took the platform.

"Looks like they're about to announce it," Juray said.

Donar commanded the crowd's attention. "Weren't long ago we gave King Bran back to the sea. Today our mourning ends. Today, by the grace of the gods and the clans, a new ruler takes the crown." He motioned to his left. "Let us swear her fealty."

Cerys seemed to be surprised that she'd been chosen. Donar gave a bow, and she returned it before turning and stepping over to where the crown lay. She picked it up and placed it on her head, turning back to the cheering crowd.

"I know some would see another in my place. I thank those who stood at my side." Her gaze landed on Juray as she said that. Juray, in turn, smiled and nodded. "Here, beneath the Sacred Oak, I pledge to be a good queen to the ones and the others. I want peace and prosperity to reign in Skellige. And I count on you to help me fulfill that dream."

"Cerys!" the crowd chanted.

Lugos scoffed and shoved between the Witchers as he stormed off.

"We should go and congratulate the new queen," Juray said.

Geralt nodded in agreement and the two weaved through the crowd toward the new queen and her family.

Hjalmar hugged his sister as they approached. "You did well."

"Thought you'd be sulkin'," Cerys said.

"Why would I? Showed 'em that even the lasses of Clan an Craite are fit to take the throne."

"But I beat you."

"If it had to be so, I'm glad it were you and not someone else."

Cerys saw the Witchers approach. "Juray! I'm glad you were able to make it."

"You'll make a great queen," Juray said.

"Wouldn't be here if it weren't for your encouragement and support. If you're ever in need of anythin', you come to me and I will help you in any way I can."

"I appreciate the offer," Juray gave a respectful bow, hand to her chest. "Your Majesty."

Cerys laughed.

"Congratulations, Cerys," Geralt said. "Hope you're able to accomplish everything you wish to."

"Thank you, Geralt."

"What's the new queen of Skellige planning?"

"To listen, learn and listen again. Then we'll see."

"Good plan."

"I must unite the clans. I'd rather avoid war, but if Nilfgaard aims to attack, we must repel them together."

"Drummond folk might be a problem," Juray said. "Lugos shoved his way past the two of us during the ceremony. Looked pretty furious to me."

"There's always been strife between our clans...," Cerys explained. "But I must try and talk to him, just might bring him around."

"Hope so."

Geralt turned to Juray. "Come on, Juray. Yen is waiting on us."