My stomach roiled and my collar suddenly seemed to tight.

“Lord Frederick... Freddie.” Syanna began. “I know that you have been unwell and took a beating yesterday, mentally as well as physically. If there was any other way then...”

I shook my head and waved her off as I tossed the first piece of paper aside and picked up another. It was the descriptions of the injuries found on one of the victims.

“I just, you look as though...”

“I don't know why.” I told her. “But I am struggling to be comfortable in these clothes today. I feel as though they are too tight. I can't breathe. I can't move properly.”

She nodded and gestured to Captain De La Tour who went over to the windows and opened one. I went over and stood next to the fresh air, gulping down huge swallows of the fresh air. Somewhat spoiled by the fact that the window was overlooking the stables. Not as bad as you might think. The smell of horses always reminds me of time spent among the horses at home.

I wondered if Ariadne would let me build a stable in Angral. I had not been fond of the passtime when I had been living in my father's house, but the smell suddenly made me think of home. Not Coulthard castle, not Angral, nor even Oxenfurt. But the nebulous concept of home.

“Should we get started?” Captaing De La Tour tried again.

“We should.” Syanna agreed. “But there is one piece of business that I need to deal with first that cannot wait and I don't want to forget. I need to strike when the iron is hot shall we say.”

Captain De La Tour wears his heart on his sleeve and even though I was looking out the window, I swear that I could feel him frown at what the King Commander said.

I watched as I saw a horseman ride up and a groom take the horse. The horseman dismounted and took the time to help the groom take the saddle off the horse and rub the horse down before seeing to the food and water before leading the horse into the stable. I approved and I rather thought that Father would have approved as well. The stables needed more room to be a proper horse farm but what space they had was being properly used.

My thought process was interrupted when there was a knock on the door to which the Knight Commander called out to enter and two young men came in.

“You called Commander?” The first man was wearing chain mail. I got little of an image of him really. I got the feeling that he was a few years younger than me. No younger than sixteen. He had a round face but that was partly due to the armour that he was wearing that betrayed that feeling but also because of bone structure. He had a large jaw with a cleft down the middle and the kind of nose that other people call “aristocratic”.

The other man was wearing a shirt over a pair of trousers. There were bracers on his arms as well but otherwise, he was relaxed. As though he seemed to think that the effort of wearing chain mail was more than it was entirely worth. Both men had pendants on that were shaped after the silhouette of the statue of the Angelic figure of Saint Francesca. He was dark haired and looked as though he had lost a lot of weight recently and I wondered if this was because he was that much younger and the weight that he had lost was his childhood weight.

“Gaspard.” The Knight Commander began. “Did Master Witcher Kerrass approach the Knights the day before yesterday in order to offer his services in the hunt for the murderer and rapist that people are beginning to call Jack.”

“Ma'am?”

“Answer the question Gaspard.” Captain De La Tour commented.

“No Ma'am.”

“Then why does the outpost log show that he approached the chapterhouse, stayed for an hour and then left?” Syanna asked.

Gaspard, shifted a little. “Ma'am. I felt that it was important that the Knights of the Saint are seen to be standing on their own two feet Ma'am. And that we did not tneed the help of the... Witcher Ma'am.”

“What were you going to say Gaspard?”

Gaspard said nothing.

“Were you going to say Non-human Gaspard?”

The other, younger man, shifted his weight slightly.

“So the Witcher did offer his help?” Syanna asked again without raising her voice.

Gaspard sighed and nodded.

“Answer me Gaspard.” Syanna did not raise her voice but there was a certain “hissing” quality that showed her displeasure.

“Yes he did.” Gaspard admitted unhappily. I guess it was more because he got caught rather than anything.

Syanna nodded. “Why didn't you accept the help that was offered?” She wondered, back in her normal tone of voice.

“The Knights of Saint Francesca need to be able to stand on our own feet.” The young man repeated quickly and with more than a little passion, as though it was some form of religious doctrine. “We don't need his, or anyone else's help to catch this fuck and string him up by his balls.”

“There's a lady present.” De La Tour commented.

“Beg pardon Ma'am.” Gaspard bowed towards Ariadne who's face had gone still. Not because she was angry or upset. But more because I think she was trying not to laugh.

“It is not a weakness to ask for help Gaspard.” Syanna told him, “It shows strength to know where your weaknesses are and ask for that help. It is the mark of a weak man who ignores the problems.”

“Yes Ma'am.” He looked a little chagrined.

“However, I cannot ignore the fact that you lied to me. Nor can I ignore the fact that his presence wasn't noted in the log. You are relieved of your post for the failure to note the log properly and bring the Witcher's offer to our attention.”

“Yes Ma'am.” To be fair, he didn't seem angry. More resigned.

“And you will report to the stables for twenty hours of duty in addition to your normal training and responsibilities, for lying to me just now as well as your attitude towards the Witcher. Further to that, you will act as my page when I am at the chateau for the next week for checking my orders with Captain De La Tour. Dismissed.”

The young lad saluted and left.

“Etienne?”

The younger man stepped forward and saluted, a little sloppier in his salute than Gaspard I thought.

“Ma'am.”

His attitude reminded me of the drill Sergeants back home. I strongly suspected that this much younger man could not give a rats arse what other people thought. Including the Knight Commander. I found that I liked him.

“You are currently assigned as Gaspard's second are you not?”

“I am.”

“Did the Witcher arrive and offer help?”

“He did Ma'am.”

“What did Gaspard say to the Witcher?”

“I do not recall Ma'am.” He didn't blink, he just stared straight ahead.

“Did he instruct you not to say?”

“I do not recall Ma'am.” He repeated.

“Did he order you not to place the entry in the log?”

“I do not recall Ma'am.”

“Did you offer any advice to him?”

“Yes Ma'am.” I thought I detected a slight relaxation on the part of the lad.

“What was that advice?”

“I told him that he should note the presence and escort the Witcher to either your presence or to the presence of Sir Guillaume if you were asleep Ma'am.”

“Why didn't he?”

“I do not recall Ma'am.”

Syanna nodded. “Your punishment will be that you will take over Gaspard's watch as Knight in command of the door. I expect you to perform your duty.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

“Find Sir Guillaume and sent him up here. You are then dismissed to your duties which will also include spreading the news that Lord Frederick Coulthard was not aware that we were seeking his aid and as such is not to be blamed for not coming. He is here now and has promised his aid.”

“Yes Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am.”

He left.

Syanna sighed and deflated a little. “Damien,” she began. “Thank you for your help in reminding people that they answer to me but...”

“I know.” De La Tour commented. “I shouldn't have interfered. It was a reflex. I apologise.”

Syanna nodded. “I just want to wait for Guillaume as he was one of the first people involved in all of this and I want to nip the rumours about Freddie not wanting to help us in the bud.”

Ariadne looked around and found a chair in the corner where she sat down, crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, doing her best to look serene and uncaring. Kerrass picked up a piece of paper, seemingly at random and started reading it. He can't have got very far because he soon threw it aside in disgust.

I noticed that neither Captain De La Tour, nor Knight Commander Syanna approved or disapproved of these actions and I assumed that was because there was little or no order to what was going on in the room.

I gave up and turned to look out the window again to watch the people out in the yard.

There were several pairs of swordspeople going at it under the stern gaze of someone that I rather thought I recognised as being Lord Palmerin. He was walking around with a long cane in his arm. I couldn't quite tell what he was doing but I saw him watching one pair closely. I guessed them to be a boy and a girl when he ordered them to stop as both of them froze in place. Palmerin walked up to one and placed the end of the cane in one combatant's chest and pushed sharply so that the boy fell over.

Even at this distance, I could tell that Palmerin was displeased about something.

I could almost imagine him ranting and raving something about balance.

The door to the office opened and the crash caused me to turn in time to see Sir Guillaume enter the room.

He is not as big as sir Gregoire is but he is all muscle and that gives him a feeling of physical domination over the rest of the room. He was wearing a shirt and trousers with only a pair of leather bracers on his forearms. His sword was on his belt with a fighting dagger on the other side. He had clearly been sweating and if I had to guess, I think he had come in from some form of training exercise.

It was clear that he was tired as well. Not the physical kind of tired. Guillaume gives the impression of being the kind of man that never gets physically tired. But more a mental kind of fatigue. Like the Knight Commander and, now that I was looking, like Captain de La Tour, it was clear that he had not been sleeping properly. It was as though a great weight of worry was resting on his shoulders as well as, I rather thought, a sense of guilt that I could not identify. Fortunately I didn't have to wait for long to get an answer as to why he might be feeling guilty.

He slammed to attention and saluted as he got to the table. I honestly don't think that he had even realised the rest of us in the room.

“You sent for me Knight Commander.” he barked. Yes, I used exactly the right word there.

“I did and....”

“May I ask if you have finally agreed to my request that I be assigned to the Knights who are protecting my wife Ma'am?”

“I have not. Your talents, skills and expertise are required elsewhere.”

Guillaume is not a man that can hide his emotions and his face twisted in disgust before eventually resignation set in as he sighed and nodded. Which is when he surveyed the room and saw me.

To my astonishment there was a sudden flash of rage in his eyes and his face twisted again in anger as he took a step towards me.

“How dare...” He began.

“SIR GUILLAUME.” Syanna snapped. “You will allow me to explain before you say something you will regret.”

Guillaume practically vibrated with the desire for violence. His hands gripping the air.

I was appalled and had taken a step back. I was hurt as well as I had thought this man my friend but the look of anger and violence in his face was truly.... It was frightening.

Panic was scrabbling at my throat.

“It has been made clear to me, to my satisfaction.” Syann went on, speaking slowly and clearly. “That Lord Frederick had no idea that we needed or wanted his help. As we know, Lord Frederick has been ill and is still recovering from injuries that he has suffered during his time on the road. It was decided by his caregivers that our requests for aid should be kept from him in an effort to prevent him running around the countryside potentially compounding his injuries.”

Guillaume absorbed that.

“I may say that Lord Frederick is easily as incensed as the rest of us at this fact. Possibly even more so.”

She could not have had a more profound effect if she had tried. A look of abject horror crossed his face followed by a look of shame. He actually staggered backwards.

“I...I...” He turned away. As though he could not look at me. Literally as though I was some kind of horrifying symbol that scarred his eyes.

He turned away for a moment and covered his face.

I looked over at Syanna who was keeping a carefully neutral expression while Captain De La Tour was looking at Sir Guillaume with sympathy in his eyes.

I rather thought that Syanna was trying not to laugh.

People of Toussaint, of which Sir Guillaume de Launfal is undobutedly a paragon example which I say with all the love in my heart, are an emotional people.

Kerrass was frowning slightly I think while Ariadne was remaining calm.

Guillaume turned abruptly and threw himself to his knees at my feet.

“Lord Frederick.” He wept. “I have betrayed you, a friend so newly won, and I see now that I was wrong. I apologise to you. I apologise for believing you to being a false and cowardly piece of scum. I apologise for saying so in those times when I was not on duty to all who would listen. I am a weak man sir and I was caught up in strong emotions that I could not and cannot control.”

I had felt my mouth open in stunned amazement.

“I do not have the right.” Guillaume went on before he sniffed hugely. I could literally see the tears spilling from his eyes. “I have neither the right, nor the expectation of your forgivness. So all I can offer is my blade to your service so that I might redeem myself in the blood of your enemies. I shall leave now, from this place, to begin this quest by removing the head of Sir Raoul LeBlanc who I understand has done you...”

“I think you might have to get in line for that.” Kerrass commented dryly. “Several people in this room, Freddie not least, owe that fucker some pain.”

“Please stand up Guillaume.” I pleaded. “Please stand up.” I took him by the arm and tried to tug a man who weighed twice what I did at that time, and all of it muscle, to his feet.

“Guillaume, what happened?” I asked.

He allowed himself to be lifted to his feet and scuffed the tears from his eyes in exactly the same way that a five year old does, using the balls of his hands. Not helped by the fact that he was sniffling and snuffling hugely.

Remember that this man is older than me.

“Vivienne was attacked.” He said simply and my stomach fell away. “Vivienne was attacked and I immediately went out to try and find the vermin to bring them to justice. I wanted to put together a hanse of my closest friends and they wouldn't let me in to see you, telling me that you were indisposed which means that you didn't want to see me. Then the first victim of Jack was found and...

“Guillaume I didn't know.” I told the sobbing man. A flame kindled in my heart then. It was a small flame, very small, painfully small. But it was there. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Is she alright?”

“She's fine. She fought off the wretches herself and escaped.” A sense of vicious pride was in his voice at that. Then another look of horror came over him. “I must go. I must tell her that you were...”

“She knows.” Syanna told him. “I sent messages out while Lord Frederick was getting ready earlier this morning.

“When did this happen?” I demanded.

“Sam had left that morning.” Ariadne told me. “I must beg your forgiveness too Sir Knight.” She said. “I did not make the decision. But as far as I was concerned, being indisposed means that a person is ill.”

“And I was very ill that night.” I told him. “I could not have come with you. I was sedated and woozy and overcoming a significant fit.”

Guillaume nodded unhappily.

“My friend.” I tried again to get through to the big man. “I must attend to this matter first. But when that is dealt with, we shall find these... utter cretins and bring them to justice if we can.”

He nodded. “I am grateful Lord Frederick. But they cannot be found. It is like they vanished into the darkness.”

I nodded.

“Then if you need me, do not hesitate to...”

He pulled me into a hug. I could no more have resisted than I could stand in the way of an avalanche. He kissed me on both cheeks. “I will never doubt you again my friend.” He told me.

“Not so fast,” I tried for a joke. “I have, in the past, been known to be incredibly stupid.”

Kerrass sniggered.

“Well,” Captain De La Tour was obviously getting impatient. Another man who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Now that that's over with, maybe we can...”

I looked for that small flame that I had felt earlier. It took some doing but I found it, just there, behind where my heart was.

“Wait.” I said and rolled my shoulders. There was an itch just between my shoulder blades. Flame but this shirt was uncomfortable. “You have said that you want my help.” I looked at Syanna who was watching me closely. “I have spent too much time with a Witcher, be specific please. What do you want me to do?”

De La Tour looked unhappy as he and Syanna exchanged glances. But he nodded his deference to the Knight Commander.

“There have been four victims.” She said. “Women in different parts of Toussaint, two of which were in Beauclair itself. The women were raped before they were murdered. There were cuts made on all the bodies. Witnesses describe hearing someone laughing uproariously nearby. Other witnesses have seen a figure resembling Jack near the sites.”

I felt a shiver that made my fingers tingle. “All of that is interesting, but why come to me?”

There was another exchange of looks between the two of them.

“There are two possibilities.” Syanna continued. “The first is that this is Jack or a Jack surrogate like the one that was here last year. The second is that this is a copycat of some kind. If it is the first, then we need to marshall and drive him off. The last time that this was attempted cost the lives of many fine men and we could do with your advice. If it's a copycat, then we are pursuing someone who is using the trappings of Jack to commit his crimes and to kepp people afraid. Despite the rumours to the contrary, we cannot pursue both avenues. We need to be able to focus our efforts. Fortunately, I have a resident expert in the Jack phenomenon to help us narrow our search.”

I nodded.

“Then you should know that I come as a package deal.” I told them. De La Tour frowned. Syanna clearly couldn't give a damn.

“Kerrass is the investigator.” I told them. “everything I know about investigating anything that happened more recently than fifty years ago, I learned from Kerrass. I'm a historian, not a detective. He is going to be asking most of the questions and he is also the first person that identified “Jack” to me and as such, he may have insight that I lack. He comes with me everywhere, no exceptions, no private talks, no, “Lord Frederick can we just go somewhere more private to discuss....” Kerrass is with me every step of the way or we head back to the palace and my entire family leaves through the gate. Immediately.”

De La Tour stiffened. Syanna didn't shift. Guillaume was next to me so I didn't see what he did.

“Do not get me wrong.” I told them. I want to help. I need to help. But this is what help looks like. You don't get to ask my help and then dictate how that help arrives. Kerrass taught me that.”

Syanna nodded.

“Ariadne comes too.” I said. “Comtesse de Angral as is.”

“She is a vampire and is far less acceptable than...” De La Tour began.

“No offense meant I take it.” Ariadne commented from the corner of the room.

“Not at all Madam. But Toussaint remembers.”

“De La Tour...” Syanna snarled.

I winced. The shouting and the loud noises were too much and I suddenly had the distinct image of drawing my dagger and slitting my own throat with it. It was just a flash and I bellowed at the thought that that was enough.

Silence fell. It seemed that I had shouted aloud.

“Ariadne is here for me.” I told the room. “I am sick. It is now clear that all though my health will improve, I will never entirely recover. Ariadne is there to make sure I do not injure myself, or others, over the course of trying to help. If she decides that I need to get some rest, or that I need to take a break. Her word supercedes everyone. Including me.”

“How sick are you?” Guillaume asked, clearly a little shocked.

“Ariadne describes it better than I do.”

“His brain is trying to kill him.” She said simply. “His unconscious mind has convinced itself that a way to deal with all of his problems is to kill himself. If he is awake, calm and fully in control. Then he can fight these feelings off. If he is tired, stressed and acting on reflex and instinct, then these thoughts are more dangerous.”

Syanna nodded. “Then that is acceptable. Are you well now Lord Frederick?”

I took a deep breath. The Flame was still there in the hollow of my chest. “I could do with something to drink. Maybe something fruit based?”

Syanna nodded and ordered her new page Gaspard to fetch some Grape juice.

“And please, as we're working together. Please call me Freddie.”

De La Tour, Syanna and Sir Guillaume all nodded.

“Right then.” I said, pulling out a chair, an action mirrored by Kerrass. “I suppose you should start at the beginning.”

There was some exchanges of glances between Captain De La Tour and Syanna. I leant back in my chair and stretched out my legs, wincing as the fabric of the trousers caught on my boods meaning that I had to free up some gabric before I could get my legs straight.

For a moment, the weariness of the previous evening washed over me. I had been looking forward to another few hours in bed after all and now...

“We think that this started four nights ago.” Captain De La Tour told us.

“Why only think?” Kerrass asked.

At first, De La Tour bridled a little before subsiding. “Because there was no sighting of Jack. The other three victims were all accompanied by some kind of sighting of Jack,”

“Or a figure that looks like Jack.” Sir Guillaume put in. Syanna seemed to be content to lean back and let the others speak for her.

“Yes, looks, speaks and acts like Jack.” The Captain of the Guard admitted. “But the state of the body was such as those other bodies were found in so we are working on the assumption that she was the first victim.”

“So there are four victims?” Kerrass checked carefully.

“Yes.” De La Tour snapped. “This really would go a lot faster if you would just let us talk.”

“I appreciate...” I took another breath. “I appreciate that tempers are frayed.” I said into the room. “I appreciate that patience is in short supply.”

“I'm not sure that you do Lord Frederick.” Syanna sighed. “The Knights have been slowly phased into activity under the guidance of Colonel Duberton and the 4th. This is not our first killer. But it is our first killer under our own command. We need this done.”

“I understand that. And I understand that you have your own way of working. But Kerrass has been doing this since before either of us was born. Our methods are different to yours. What we think might be important is different to what you think might be important. You asked for our help. Let us help.”

“No we didn't.” Damien retorted but I got the feeling that it was more tired than angry. 'We asked for your help.”

“Which is the same thing.” I answered reflexively.

Silence fell, broken by the page, Gaspard, coming in with a tray of drinks. Guillaume poured one and passed it over to me.

“So there are four victims, we think.” I prompted.

“Yes. One per night.”

Something scratched at the back of my brain in the same way that an answer would hover just out of reach in an exam hall or in a seminar. Like those times, I knew that if I waited for it. It would come.

“The girl was named Appoline.” De La Tour said. “She was a barmaid working at the Cockatrice inn on the bridge between Corvo Bianco and Dun Tynne Castle. By all accounts, she was a beautiful young lady and all who saw her or had anything to do with her, loved her. According to the innkeep of the Cockatrice, she had worked until closing time, helping him throw out the last of the heavy drinkers and performed her normal duties of sweeping and mopping the floor as well as stacking firewood for the ovens the following day, washing the empty bottles for reuse and getting as much done as possible for the following day so that it wouldn't need doing.

“As was normal, she left for home a couple of hours after midnight. She was wrapped in her normal cloak and wore heavy boots and mittens against the cold as well as having her long hair tied up in a wrap.

“She left the inn with a lantern in hand and was, as far as the innkeep is aware, making her way home.”

“Right.” Kerrass leaned forward and cutting off the flow of information. “Let's get some of the obvious things out of the way. Did the young lady have any romantic interests?”

“Everyone and no-one. She was Seventeen and not yet in a position to marry as her mother was ill and her father didn't want her to leave home yet as she was still needed to look after younger siblings.”

“Did she resent this?” Kerrass wondered.

“According to our questioning the other siblings, she did a little. Her family is a fishing family and they help maintain the nets that provides the Cockatrice with Crayfish for it's chowder. Her father loved her a great deal and although his eldest daughter had already left home, it seemed as though he was particularly attached to Appoline. Since his wife's illness, it would seem that Appoline has become a surrogate... mother figure to her younger siblings and performing many of the duties of a wife to her father.”

“Including Conjugal ones?” I wondered.

“Not as far as we could tell.” Syanna responded to my question as Captain De La Tour's mouth twisted in distaste.

“So she had no lovers.” Kerrass checked.

“No.” De La Tour took up the narrative again. “Plenty of hopefuls and more than one person had asked her father for permission to woo the young lady but so far, all efforts had been turned down. According to the Innkeeper of the Cockatrice, Appoline was beginning to be resentful of this. Like a lot of Toussaint women, she was looking forward to having some romance in her life. While also beginning to be concerned that she was getting too old for such things.”

I saw Syanna give the Guard Captain a look. A look to which he was completely oblivious, or ignored. I still can't quite tell what's happening in his head regarding Syanna's interest.

“She was otherwise happy at work. She seemed to take her job as a way of being able to escape her home life. The Innkeeper was particularly heartbroken, not only because more than one of his patrons were regulars because it meant that they could spend time trying to woo the un-wooable barmaid. He also hoped that, if the state of affairs regarding Appoline's love life continued a little further, then his son would be of marrying age. Which in turn would mean that she could be persuaded to marry his son and then the inn would be known to be in good hands.”

“Did the son know of this?”

“He did, but the lad is still only fourteen and still sees girls as being nice as an abstract concept, but finds them...” he rotated his hand as he reached for the word.

“Terrifying?” Syanna suggested.

“Overwhelming would be another good word to use.” De La Tour agreed, completely missing Syanna's leer.To be clear, Syanna was tired. She was teasing the good Captain out of habit and to prove to herself that she was still alive rather than actually wanting to pursue her normal goals. Or at least, that was my view on the matter.

“So what happened?” Kerrass prompted.

“In the early hours of the morning, Appoline was found tied up in one of the lower fields of Corvo Bianco, just before it turns into the next vinyard over. Her hands had been tied with her scarf and she had been gagged with her mittens. She had had her clothes torn from her body and she lay exposed to the elements. It was clear that she had been raped before she had been mutilated.... horribly. Several of her internal organs had been stacked next to her.”

I felt myself lean forward. “How did she die?”

“I would have thought that...” Damian was frowning.

“No, I mean, what killed her? Did the mittens in her mouth suffoctate her. Was she clubbed unconscious and one of the blows killed her. Was it the mutilating, blood loss? What happened to her was horrific but what killed her?”

“We are unsure.” Syanna admitted.

“Was an autopsy performed?” I wondered.

“No. We do not have anyone in Toussaint at the moment who could perform such an act. When such matters are confusing we would normally call upon Lord Geralt or Lady Yennefer to perform such a thing. As both are elsewhere...”

“Can Lady Vigo...”

“She informs me that her expertise lies elsewhere.”

“Do we still have access to the body?” Kerrass asked before I could.

Syanna shook her head. “At the time, we were more worried about the attack on as that could have been an attack on the Duchess herself or part of some kind of treasonous plot. Appoline's death was a rape and a murder. It was not the first that we have dealt with in Toussaint and it will not be the last.” She sighed sadly.

“A Couple of knights were starting the investigation but the truth is that we were not paying that much attention at the time. In other cases like it, the attacker is normally quickly apprehended. Either because they boast in the wrong time and place, believing themselves to be above the law. Which happens when some Nobleman or so-called Knight takes the fancy of a commoner and sees it as their right to take such things.

“The other option is that it was a spurned lover that went too far in which case, guilt and grief will either cause a confession or will change someone's behaviour to the point where guilt becomes obvious. We were still expecting that to happen for several days. It was only later, with the benefits of looking back, that we think that this was the first victim.”

I nodded, it all made sense. “So much for all crimes and victims being equal.” I commented before I could stop myself.

Damien shifted uncomfortably but Syanna smiled unhappily. “Believe me Lord Frederick. That discussion has been had.”

“Call me Freddie would you?” I reminded her. “We are working together now.” Syanna smirked slightly while Damien frowned a little. I have no idea why although I will say, rather unfairly, that his face seems rather built to frown, not smile. Guillaume had appointed himself servant and was pouring everyone drinks.

“Alright.” Kerrass went on. “Lets ask some more obvious questions. Was the field where she was found on her way home?”

“A little out of the way.” Damien said. “She would take the footpath along the banks of the river on the Corvo Bianco side. Something that would have been impossible only a year ago but one of the benefits of having a resident Witcher is that he has been able to cut the local drowner population down to almost nothing. Corvo Bianco is possibly the safest place in Toussaint to go for a midnight stroll. Something which, much to the amusement of it's Lord and Lady, have rather turned the place into the Toussaint Lover's Lane.”

I carefully managed to avoid looking at Kerrass when he shifted his weight slightly.

“It would certainly not be too far for someone to drag her there.” Damien finished.

“How well known was her route home?” Kerrass asked.

“Pretty well known.”

Kerrass nodded. “One last question before we move on. Was she killed where she was found or was she moved?”

Damien brightened. “There was plenty of blood around the place so we think she was killed there.”

“I don't suppose you noticed any other injuries about her person did you?” Kerrass asked, making a lie out of his former statement. “Rope marks, beating bruising?”

“Nothing we could see. She had plenty of other injuries and, to be fair, we weren't really looking.”

Kerrass sighed.

“Right. Who was next?”

“Next was a young lady by the name of Rosaline Donnet?” Syanna told us. “Which is where we hand over to Sir Guillaume.”

I shifted in my seat so that I could see the burly knight with my own two eyes. He had changed. He was now the cold, remote and stern Knight of his profession. The emotional man of not all that long ago had vanished.

“I wanted something to do.” He said. Vivienne was refusing to go into hiding after a kidnapping, or worse, attempt and insisting that she would not cower in fear. Her guard was ordered doubled, there was no sign of the men that had attacked her and as a result, I decided that I needed to work. The thought of continuing to work on the protection detail of the Coulthard family was distasteful after their earlier rejection and as such, I decided that I wanted a job. That and the fact that Jack had been sighted meant that a more experienced hand was required. I took my squire and went to investigate the matter.”

I nodded, the extra context wasn't needed but it helped a little.

“Miss Donnet was a younger lady of sixteen years of age who lived in the village of Fox Hollow. She was known to be studious and uninterested in worldly things. She had stated her desire, early, that she wanted to go off and become a servant of the prophet. She had chosen the convent of the Prophet's progress on the Southern pass of Toussaint as her intended site of spiritual fulfillment. Her parents were not averse to the idea as it meant that they wouldn't have to pay a dowry, but they had decreed that she must wait until her eighteenth birthday in order to ensure that she would not miss the things that she would leave behind.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Boys. A normal life.” Syanna suggested helpfully with another playful leer at Captain De La Tour.

“Her mother was of the opinion that what Miss Donnet really wanted was a proper and full education. Her parents couldn't afford to send her to a University and she was hungry for knowledge. She and her friends took great delight in buying whatever books they could and then swapping them among themselves to help with the education that their parents couldn't afford. Miss Donnet had the largest collection amongst the lot although her friends admitted that this was largely due to her preference for academic reading rather than stories of adventures and heroes.

“She had a full collection of Lord Fredericks academic works for example, but not of the travel journals.”

“Huh.” I said.

For the uninitiated, that is unusual. The Academic pieces are written with a view that I am writing for textbooks and things. Using the prose to speak to fellow academics rather than the kind of thing that you have in your hand. Here I am recording my adventures, hoping to entertain and, if I am really lucky, I might get some education in there as well.

Academic writing is not meant to be read like you would read a book. It is meant for a person to get the book, look for the bit that they want in the contents pages or index, and then read accordingly. If you tried to read it from cover to cover, you would get bored and, even if I do say so myself, fall asleep.

My old Professor used to say that the best bits of the academic books of the world are the beginning and the end. The beginning because that is the bit where the author tries to convince you that his work is important and interesting. And the end because you have the elation of the fact that the damn thing is over and done with. My experience is that he is largely correct.

“So, Miss Donnet and her friends had been at a party down by the river. Fox Hollow is partly a fishing village, but also partly one of the places where the stone that is being removed from the quarry is loaded onto barges so that it can be floated off to wherever it needs to go. The entire village is very conscious about it's dependance on the water.”

“It's also important to understand that Fox Hollow used to be a bandit refuge before the night of the Long Fangs.” Syanna pointed out. “It's liberation from those bandits is due to the fact that those self same bandits decided to try and extort some money from a Witcher that just wanted to ride through.”

“Amazing how often that happens.” Kerrass muttered.

“Yes. Well it's another reason that Lord Geralt is almost worshipped in Toussaint. So when you go there, my advice would be to play up the connection if you can. We had some issues there because we aren't Geralt of Rivia and they expect Geralt to solve all their problems for them.”

I snorted.

“But as I say.” Guillaume took the floor again. “Miss Donnet and her friends were having a party at the water's edge. There was a bonfire, toasting chestnuts, mulled wine and ice-skating. They still do business on the water's edge but now it's done with sledges rather than barges. Regardless, there was a party with young people enjoying the reduced work load that comes with winter.

“Our understanding was that a friend of Miss Donnet, A Miss Justine Renou was having some unwanted attention from one of the local boys. The matter was relatively innocent as these things go. From talking to the other friends, it is one of those situations where the boy has a crush on the girl, but is unsure what to do about it. So instead, he bullies her. The other friends agree that the matter had moved past the point of being kind of funny watching Miss Renou eviscerate the young man verbally and the entire thing had started to become a little uncomfortable.”

“Where is the boy now?” Kerrass wondered.

“He is definitely innocent. My thoughts went in the same direction when I first looked into these events but he was part of the group that found Miss Donnet and had not been out of the sight of anything less than three people in the intervening time. Including people that don't like him and disapprove of his behaviour towards Miss Renou.”

Kerrass grunted, frowned and then shrugged.

“As the party had stopped being fun, Miss Renou went to Miss Donnet and asked her to walk her home. Miss Donnet had been sat on the edge of the party anyway, reading by firelight.”

“Not the best way to preserve someone's eyesight.” I commented.

“No, and people had mentioned that to her on several occasions. But she always argued that it was better to lose her eyesight than it was to be stupid. Along with telling people that bad eyesight can be fixed with proper lenses. But a mind cannot. There would then be an argument that young men would not be interested in a girl that had to squint in order to see her lover, an argument that Miss Donnet would sniff at before ignoring it.”

I smirked. I was finding that I rather thought I would have liked Miss Donnet.

“So the two young women walked home, arm in arm, to the inn run by Miss Renou's parents. They intended to steal a bottle of wine and stay up reading until they passed out asleep unconscious.”

“Were the two women lovers?” Kerrass asked.

Guillaume shifted a little uncomfortably, but that was nothing compared to the frown of disapproval from the Captain in the corner.

Guillaume sighed. “I did ask. Checking with Miss Renou when I could ensure that her parents couldn't overhear. She claimed not. She had her heart set on one of the quarry workers. Apparently big muscles as well as the money that a quarry worker makes had turned her head enough. But the lad was not yet aware enough of the situation to act on it. According to her parents, the lad is a gentle giant type that doesn't want to hurt anyone and is actually afraid of the bully that torments Miss Renou so much, this despite the fact that he could easily plait the bully into a braid if I am any judge. He might have the message now though as the lad was waiting to be allowed in to see Miss Renou when she had recovered from her injuries.”

“Injuries?” I asked, looking up.

“Yes.” Guillaume sighed. “I keep getting distracted. Miss Donnet and Miss Renou were on their way back to the inn, Miss Renou a little tipsy and leaning on her friend rather heavily to Miss Donnet's amusement. Miss Renou describes hearing the sounds of running feet against the hard-packed dirt. She turned on reflex, expecting to see another friend from their circle of friends coming to join the young ladies slumber party, or her tormentor coming up with further jokes, insults and torments.

“She remembers a figure in a black cloak with white on his chest, whether a tunic, shirt or a waist coat is unclear. She freely admits that she was the better part of a bottle of wine in and the glance she had was sudden. She also remembers an absurd hat that shaded the figure's face. She had a sense of movement as he lifted his arm to strike at her and she shut her eyes out of reflex.”

I felt myself frown.

“Miss Renou's injuries are consistent with someone doing their best to cave her skull in with a club of some kind. The local healer was in attendance and the girl is doing well but struggling with the normal problems of a head injury. What this means is that her memories of what happened next are not particularly useful. She remember's Miss Donnet trying to scream and the sounds of a scuffle. When you interview her, I would ask that you be gentle with her as she rather blames herself. She realises that if she had just screamed then someone would have noticed but she says that it simply didn't occur to her.”

“I've been hit in the head.” Kerrass said. “It makes you do weird things.”

“You might do well to tell her that.”

“I will.”

“The events of after that are a little more confusing. It would seem that Miss Renou's more aggressive admirer, a Master Jules Monteil, had indeed, worked up his courage to continue his torment of Miss Renou and gone off to follow Miss Renou backed up by a liberal dose of Dwarven courage and the support of a couple of cronies.”

Guillaume sighed “It is very easy to paint Master Monteil as being a horrible young man, but the truth is that he reacted to the situation well and is now considering joining the Knights. I will admit that I would sponsor him if it came to it.”

“That's a little....” Syanna began but Guillaume held his hand up.

“I understand, not until this is all over. But he found Miss Renou in the street. She was crawling back towards the water. Blood running down her face and pausing every so often to throw up violently. One of Master Monteil's friends exclaimed that she was a wraith, that's how awful she looked.

“You can't live in so physical a place without seeing the odd injury or two and so the young man saw the injury for what it was and took charge of the situation, sending for Miss Renou's parents and organising a search for Miss Donnet. He took reasonable precautions. He insisted that the remaining ladies from the party stayed next to the village until older people could be roused from their beds and set a guard. He told searchers to be lighting fires for light and that no search party searched without at least four people in it.”

“Good thoughts.” Kerrass mused.

“I thought so. The adults came from their houses, took over and joined the search. The search did not take long as they soon found what they were looking for. They came round the back of one of the buildings that was with it's back to the undergrowth and they saw the shape of Miss Donnet lying on the ground with a dark figure crouching over her.

Guillaume sighed.

“There is no doubt that they handled this bit badly. One of the searchers that found this, was an uncle of Miss Donnet. They were also befuddled from being roused from their beds. Partly convinced that Master Monteil was exaggerating the danger and that Miss Renou had merely fallen and struck her head on something. So when they actually found what they were looking for, they panicked and shouted at the assailant.”

“Handled it badly, but it was a very human response.” De La Tour commented.

“It was.” Guillaume agreed. “I doubt that I would have done any better in their place had our situations been reversed. But they shouted and stepped closer so that the light from the torches and the lanterns were able to illuminate what was going on.

The assailant looked up at them. He is described as... Hang on. I've got the written description around here somewhere.”

Guillaume dove into the pile of paperwork on the table until, triumphantly, he came up with a piece of paper.

“He was a tall man, dressed in dark clothing as if getting ready for some kind of posh ball or something.” We couldn't help but smile at Sir Guillaume's impression of a less educated accent.

“He wore a stupid hat, really tall it were and sat on his hed firmly as though he'd tugged it round 'is ears. He wore a long black cloak, black gloves, trousers and boots. But he had a white... tunic on. He wore a mask of sack-cloth over his face so that we couldn't see him properly. He had a large club in his left hand and a dagger in his right. When he saw us, we could see that his trews were open and he tucked himself back in as he stood up if you follow.”

We could follow. The story was no longer funny. Guillaume sighed unhappily.

“According to those witnesses, Miss Donnet was on the floor with her clothing having been cut free but not entirely removed. We believe that this was due to a lack of time more than anything. The uncle of Miss Donnet shouted something about him getting off her. The witnesses say that he laughed and quickly leant down stabbed Miss Donnet twice before anyone realised what was happening. Then the figure ran off into the night laughing.”

I sighed. I felt awful. My chest felt cold. It was a strange feeling. The rest of me felt perfectly comfortable but my chest felt cold. It was weird.

“Did she... Did she die straight away?” I asked, completely automatically.

“Yes.” Guillaume answered. “I did see that body. The wretch had not finished with her before they were discovered. She, like her friend, had been clubbed unconscious before being dragged behind one of the buildings where her clothing was cut free. Half cut, half torn. Then, when they were discovered. He stabbed her in the heart. Twice, just to be sure.”

He said that last rather bitterly and there was a pause as we all took that in.

“Some of the more brave,” Guillaume began again

“Or more foolish,” Syanna commented.

Guillaume paused before realising that the commander wasn't going to continue. “Gave a short pursuit before it became clear that they couldn't see, and that the attacker could be stood right next to them and they wouldn't know it. So they came back. There was a check for tracks but the area round there is quite stony so nothing could really be found as the... villagers pursuit had obscured anything that might be found by the time a professional tracker could get there. In the meantime, those people that had waited with Miss Donnet, were able to confirm that she had died almost instantly. There was nothing that anyone could have done.”

There was some more nodding around the table.

“Was it a professional stab?” Kerrass asked. “Did the killer know what he was doing?”

Guillaume sighed. “I think so. The stab was clean with little or no tearing. The dagger was designed for that purpose, it wasn't an eating knife or anything of the kind. The killer knew exactly how to stab someone and where to stab someone in order to kill them. It honestly surprised me to learn that he felt the need to stab more than once.”

“Spreading fear?” Damien suggested.

“Making sure? Maybe she knew something or might have known something?” Guillaume went on.

“Making a point.” Kerrass thought aloud. “Letting the watchers know that he could have killed her at any time.

“Any could be true.” I commented. “And all are in character for Jack. If it is Jack.”

“If it is Jack.” Syanna echoed

“Did Miss Donnet have any male admirers?” Kerrass wanted to know after that had been said.

“Plenty.” Guillaume answered. “She was a beautiful young lady. Rather studious for some tastes but that sort of thing is a challenge to certain kinds of people.”

“Do we know if she returned any of their attentions?” Kerrass continued with the line of questions.

“Her parents say not. She had made no secret of the fact that she intended to join a convent and had little interest in sampling life before that. She would drink but not to get drunk. She enjoyed food but she would be just as satisfied with a hunk of bread and an apple as she would with a banquet at the inn. She showed little to no interest in romantic assignations. Her friend, Miss Renou, claimed that she had no eye for anyone beyond an aesthetic compliment. She could recognise a good looking person, whether male or female, but felt no need to take it beyond that. She dressed relatively conservatively, not flouting any flesh but there is no denying that, like any, she would enjoy cooling off in the water over the summer.”

Kerrass nodded. “Time for the horrible question.” He said.

Guillaume sighed unhappily. “We had the body examined by the local herb woman. There was blood. She was a virgin when the fucker attacked her.” The cursing sounded coarse in the mouth of the Knight.

We all winced.

I don't know why, but it's worse. The death of a young person is always awful. Always. Children are especially bad, especially when I've had to watch Kerrass bring the news of the child's death to the parents. It never goes well. Ever. Kerrass normally tries to arrange to have a friend or relative of the parents nearby when he has to deliver that kind of news.

It's never good.

But somehow, speaking personally, it's worse when you have to deliver the news of a young person. Eleven to Eighteen years old. A person just on the cusp of the rest of their lives. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because it's so easy to see myself in the place of the dead person. With all of their lives still to live and now there they are. Dead at the hands of a monster, whether a human one or a magical one.

Both swords are for monsters after all.

But worst for me is when I hear of a young woman being murdered. Worse again when she has been raped but there is a special horror when it turns out that she was a virgin when it happened. It takes a special kind of monster to do that.

It shouldn't be worse. It shouldn't. Rape should be the same as Rape. Murder should be the same as Murder. But for some reason it's worse.

That says something about me. I have no doubt that it's misogyny. Societal conditioning. The corruption of the virginal... blah blah. But I hate it. Kerrass would say that a Witcher has to keep themselves separate from the situation. They have to be, in order to see the entire situation as a whole. It's the other side of a Witcher's neutrality. Work on the facts, not the feelings. Separate yourself from what was happening and the anguish of the people that you are dealing with.

There are any number of reasons why this is so. The people might be deluded. The “monster” might be acting in self-defence or might be a victim in and of itself.

Kerrass has taught me well, even if it has taken a toll on the greater part of my mind.

But that was the moment when I decided that this fucker was going to die. Whether it was Jack, another person with some of Jack's powers, or an imposter of some kind. This was the moment where I decided that he was going to die. Preferably at my hand.

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't. A rapist and a murderer of a young virgin, is a rapist and a murderer like any other. It shouldn't make a difference. It shouldn't matter.

But it does matter and I would be lying if I said it didn't.

I felt my hands curl into fists.

I pulled at my collar and adjusted my belt a little tighter. Weird how a suit can be tight at the collar and loose at the waist. I wouldn't mind, but I had worn this stuff before at an outdoor picnic affair. But now it was uncomfortable.

“Right, how about the previous victim?.” Kerrass said after a long moment before clearing his throat. He had been unaffected by this news, even as it made the rest of us feel uncomfortable. Sometimes, a Witcher's practised ability to separate themselves from everything that was going on can be a blessing that I envy them for. Even if nothing else.

“There was too much other blood to be able to tell the difference.”

Kerrass nodded. “Right, any local suspects. I hate to ask on the grounds that I, and people like me, are often among the kinds of people that are taken for local suspects. Were there any suspects?”

“There were a few. There are always travellers on the road. Quarry mining is one of the few jobs that isn't seasonal in Winter. The new foreman is a sensible man and believes in a slow, steady and safe working method. Stone production out of the quarries has improved since then, but it is still dangerous work which pays well. So there are always foreigners, strangers and, with respect, non-humans that are there trying to make a living. Travelling away, travelling to...

“There were reports of a merchant caravan nearby. It turned out to be little more than a few peddlars that were travelling the roads together for safety but beyond that? Nothing.”

Kerrass nodded. “I had to ask.” He thought for a moment before scratching his head. “Alright, you wouldn't drag Freddie out here or scream “Jack” for an assailant dressed up. Nothing you've told us so far can not be explained by a normal, if monstrous, person dressing up as Jack in order to obscure their tracks. So there's more?”

“There is. But this is where I hand over to Captain De La Tour.”

“The Knights and I communicate with each other on a regular basis.” Captain De La Tour sniffed as he spoke. “We are not quite at a place where we are both happy with it and I suspect that if there weren't political things at stake, there would be a conversation had about folding the city and palace guard into the Knights Francesca.” He sniffed again.

Where some people like Kerrass, have a vast variety of smiles that they can use for various purposes that can be made to impart various things, including statements, moods and humour. De La Tour seemed to have an array of sniffs. He could sniff derisively, condescendingly, as a signal to change the subject, in displeasure at what he was hearing or even with amusement. Truly he had an eloquent nose.

For another example, the number of different ways that Ariadne can say the word “Fascinating.”

“So we knew,” De La Tour went on, “about the first two attacks but as yet, we had no reason to believe that the two were connected other than the fact that both victims were assaulted, raped and murdered. Although it's not common, such horrific crimes are not so rare that two in as many nights are enough to garner comment. So the business of breaking up drunken fights, hauling workers, sailors and other people who prefer being drunk to having a full purse, catching smuggling rings and preserving the various monuments around the place had continued to take up most of our time.”

“That and you were still working on seeing if there were any leads on who attacked Vivienne?” Guillaume prompted.

“Yes. That too, although we were all but confident that that ship had sailed. Although it is an uncomfortable truth that sometimes in such matters, you are more waiting for a criminal to make a mistake than you are for a new lead to present itself.

“The first of the investigations that I led before it was clear that we were all chasing the same... thing. Happened down at the docks near the “Belles of Beauclair” establishment.”

“It's the main Beauclair brothel.” Syanna supplied with a leer at the Captain. “If we're going to talk about the place then we can at least talk about what it is.”

“Yes, well.” Damien sniffed again. This time in discomfort I think. Syanna's continuing campaign of flirting by making him uncomfortable was kind of fun to watch. I also enjoyed how she knew exactly wen to push it, how far to push it and knew exatly when to stop. This conversation needed lightening up. Syanna had seen that and had supplied the moment.

The thing that I could never tell, not matter for how long I knew him as I never asked and he never told me, was exactly how much Damien was in the know about all of this. As I think I've said before, it takes a special kind of man to realise that he's the butt of the joke and to then be alright with being the butt of the joke for the benefit of everything going on around him.

I was never quite sure with Captain De La Tour. It could have gone either way really easily.

“You have to understand.” He stopped and cleared his throat with a sidelong glance at Syanna. “You have to understand that “Belles” is more than just a place to go for a drink and some female company. Madame Isabelle is also the major agent for the sex and escort industry in Toussaint.”

“What does that mean?” I sighed.

“It means that if a person, male or female wishes to go anywhere and needs a companion on his or her arm, then they get in touch with Madame Isabelle and the Madame arranges the matter. Or if a person cannot go to Belles for personal reasons, then they would send a facotor to Madame Isabelle to arrange a visit from a suitable person. It's not just for sex as well. She is also beginning to branch out into the art world so that when a paintor or sculptor needs a model to be able to properly capture this or that, then Madame Isabelle would be the person to capture. The Ladies and Gentlemen don't mind. It is often easier work to stand there naked and be painted than it is to be forced to make polite conversation.”

Ariadne spoke up from the corner. “It was Madame Isabelle that put me in touch with Anne.”

I nodded.

“Madame Isabelle is a power in Beauclair.” Syanna said. “The worst kept secret in Beauclair and she is well aware of how powerful, but also how vulnerable that makes her. As a result, I understand she has a vault at the bank, which contains details of all the contracts that she has issued or held in the past. So she is also untouchable unless in the cause of treason. At which point the Duchy can seize the vault as well. So she is also absolutely discrete and has an agreement with us that if she ever becomes aware of any crime through her work, then she is under obligation to let us know. She has not given us reason to doubt her.”

I nodded.

“Personally,” she commented with a sly look at Damien. “I'm not the least bit ashamed. Sometimes it becomes necessary to blow off a bit of tension. Do you not find that true Captain?”

He sniffed and cleared his throat. The double gestures suggesting to me that he was especially uncomfortable with the way the conversation had gone.

“If you could possibly control your sense of humour,” he suggested a little archly, “then we could do with getting back to things.”

“I even hear rumour that the Empress herself occasionally has need to...”

“What we know.” The Captain overrode her. She chuckled to herself a little before becoming calm, the intent was clear now that the break was over and it was time to get back to work.

“What we know is that there was one of the more exclusive courtesans that was in residence at the Belles that particular night. Her real name was Lorraine Gauthier but she was more well known as Fleur de Nuit.”

“Flower of the Night.” I guessed.

“Just so. She was an extremely popular lady. Isabelle gave us the details that she was a bastard of one of the old vinyard owners. She had run away to town at around the age of eleven when it had become clear at how beautiful a woman she was going to grow into and her father's friends and family were beginning to notice the young and pretty maid that was always around the place. She was taken in by Isabelle's predecessor at the Belles when it was just a Brothel, where she decided that life as a prostitute was not so bad.

“She used her experience around her father's manor house to be able to portray herself as a lady,”

“Which she was really.” Syanna put in and I found myself nodding in agreement.

“And she used those skills as well as the learned skills regarding hair, makeup and wardrobe to help elevate the skills and the appearance of the women at the Belles. She was another architect of the rise of the sex industry in Beauclair from a dockside risky passtime, to a more accepted part of life and society.

“She presented herself as a lady. Often using a mask in order to hide her face. Not to pretend she was other than who she was. But so that her clients could pretend that they were sleeping with a noblewoman that was in disguise. They could convince themselves that they were screwing the Duchess, or some other man's wife. And so on.

“By all accounts, she was very good at her job and, as much as anyone can, she took a certain amount of satisfaction from her work. She was one of the first Courtesans of Beauclair that specialised in entertaining her clients while accompanying them on social excursions as well as time in the bed chamber.

“She was just passing thirty when she died. She was aware that her looks would not last and had worked sensibly to invest the money that she earned. She had a small house on the outskirts of Beauclair that she lived in when she was working and she also had a small Villa on the lake that she would retire to for a few weeks in the year to rest and recuperate.”

“How well known was her wealth?” Kerrass asked.

“She was known to have her own residence in town.” De La Tour went on. “But that was not unusual for the older, more successful, ladies in that line of work. The younger girls stay on site but the older tend to live away from the Belles. The easier to entertain regular clients and recover. She was also known to be a “big sister” figure to a lot of the girls and would regularly be the person that they would to go for advice, when Madame Isabelle was a little too distant for the purpose.

“One of her regular pieces of advice was to invest their earnings wisely. She would justify this with the argument that Beaculair does not have enough of a market to be able to be in competition with Madame Isabelle. Madame Isabelle is still a relatively young woman and as such, would not need to worry about a Successor for a long time. So what does a “working girl” do when she wants to retire and the punters don't come knocking as often as they used to.”

“She was right too.” Syanna added.

“So it is reasonable to assume that, even if the exact figure was unknown, then people were well aware that she was not poor. We are still getting stories out of some of her friends and peers as they are still coming to terms with it all, but also need to get use to the fact that we are not out to arrest them.”

Kerrass nodded.

“So,” De La Tour added. “She was a lady at the height of her powers. Wealthy, beautiful, no shortage of admirers and had was able to pick and choose her clients carefully. She had gone down to the Belles that night to socialise with some people, meet with some friends that were working that night, meet with some prospective clients. Madame Isabelle says that it was not a working night for her really. It was more a kind of... whatever the Courtesan version of military scouting is.”

We all nodded.

“But Miss Gauthier was there, encouraging patrons to spend money and generally being a positive presence. But she had left relatively early that night before things got too debauched and so that she could get an early night as she was expecting to meet a client the following day for the first time.

“She left around midnight.”

“That's not exactly early.” I said aloud before remembering who I was talking about.

“It is in that line of work.” Kerrass commented.

“She made a big fuss of leaving.” De La Tour went on. “And stepped out into the night. There was no reason to suspect that anything was a problem.”

“No escort?”

“None. This was not unusual, or so we are told. She went in disguise. She had partly grown up on the streets of Beaclair and where others might fear to treat. Miss Gaulthier was known and if anyone had attacked her, there would be plenty of beggars, sailors, thieves, merchants and more than a few noblemen that would see to it that vengeance would be swift. And it is well known that if someone attacks one of Madame Isabelle's girls then there is an instant gold reward for the perpetrator to be handed over, to Madame Isabelle, alive. It has only happened once. So Beauclair is one of the few places on the continent where Working Girls walk freely.”

“But not that night.”

“No,” De La Tour sighed. “Not that night.”

There was a moment of silent contemplation for that.

“The first we knew about it,” De La Tour began again. “Was when one of the street people came into the Watch-house near the docks.”

“What do you mean by street people?”

“People who... for one reason or another, fall through the cracks in our society.” Syanna told us. “Beggars, homeless, the abused, the unwashed and unwanted. Diseased and the like. We have soup kitchens and shelters for them, but there is never enough space and never enough food to go round. A not insignificant part of the Ducal budget goes into these things as well as a lot of personal donations from wealthy citizens.”

“More enlightened than some parts of the world.” Ariadne mused. It was almost startling to hear her voice.

“Yes. But the opposite is also true. Certain kinds of people, who are exactly the kind of people that you think they are, like to harp on about how they are all just lazy people that live off the state and can't be bothered to get a job. This without realising that many of them do and still don't have enough money to rent a house or an apartment as well as buy other essentials like, you know, food.

“And there are still worse people that get off on victimising them. There are only so many jobs to go around that pay reasonably well. The other problem with our major national industry being wine production is that a lot of the work here is seasonal. So they all troop off to the fields in planting and sewing times, work themselves to the bone during harvest and then find it impossible to save their earnings during the winter.

“Because how can you save when you can't deposit in a bank. You can't use the bank without an address or someone willing to vouch for you. And who is going to vouch for the beggar on the corner that faintly smells of urine.”

“We're getting off topic again.” De La Tour told us.

“That we are.” Syanna agreed. “It is a problem.” She told us. “And it is not one that is going to go away. But it is nothing compared to what happens in Novigrad, Vizima or Vengerberg where there is no effort at all to help these people.”

“I can believe that.” I commented.

“So one of these people came to the guard post.” Kerrass commented.

“Yes.” Damien went on. “Dripping in gore and slime. He was known to us and was wanted in connection to a couple of petty burglaries. He is typical of the kind of people that the good Commander here describes.”

Syanna made a face at him before he continued.

“We know that he was once a farm worker. He was young and handsome enough to catch the eye of the lady of the estate. She tried to seduce him, he declined because he was in love with a local girl and she accused him of rape.”

“Another, not uncommon tale.” Syanna interrupted with a twist of distaste on her mouth.

“He fled, but he was a fugitive for a while. Joined one of the bandit groups in the area in the way that a lot of people do. He was kicked out of the first group for refusing to rape a captive and they beat him for his insolance. He never really recovered from that beating. At some stage, he took to alcohol and petty theft as a way to numb the pain and came to Beauclair. He's the kind of man that will eventually get caught, spend some time in the prison, get let out, still not be able to find work and then he will commit crime again. Not a bad man, but he would be the first to admit that he has done some bad things.”

I nodded, I had the image of the man in my head now.

“But he comes in. Dripping with blood. It takes an age to get his story out of him and the guard didn't want to believe him. So he snaps and bodily drags one of the guards to where the body was. He showed us the body. Showed us where Jack stood and with the warmth of the body, it was clearly impossible that a normal human would have made it to the roof for the blood to still be dripping from the blade and the body to still be warm. The wretch was weeping as he went.”

“What's his name?” I asked.

“Borcha.” De La Tour said. “There was a brief moment there where they suspected him of doing the deed before one of the guards managed to have a brain cell in his head and sent for me. The Commander had told me about the other attacks and I put two and two together to get the correct number. Borcha was obviously distraught. Stuck to his story and the phyhsical evidence on the scene was enough to confirm most of his story. The vomit was over the internal organs of Miss Gaulthier which means that he would have killed her, eviscerated her and then vomited over his handiwork. That and, after years of poor food and too much alcohol, although I could imagine Borcha knocking a woman down to take her purse. I could not imagine him stabbing and stabbing and cutting and cutting her like what happened to Flower of the Night.”

“You speak as if you know the woman.” Syanna teased him gently. It had the feeling of a gentle mocking, something that was done out of habit rather than any particular desire to taunt or upset.

“I did.” De La Tour muttered. “I knew her enough to wish I could afford her. This before I rose to the position I am now and to do that would bring the reputation of Her Grace down low.”

He looked embarrassed for a moment.

“I uh... I tried to rescue her from her life. She was very kind to a love struck young peasant knight like me.”

Syanna laughed at him. “How gallant. I had no idea.”

“Yes, well. We still have Borcha in the guardhouse. He's a broken man now. A shadow of what he was We wanted him with connection to two burglaries, but it is clear that he drank the proceeds of that away. Now? He gave himself up so that he could bring news of Jack's return to us. He knew that there would be penalties but he didn't care. We... uh.... we have to watch him to make sure he doesn't kill himself. He's on the edge of things I think.”

Kerrass nodded at that and looked at me. “Well, we'll want to talk to him.”

There was more nodding.

“So what happened last night then?” I wondered. “Another attack?”

“Yes.” De La Tour answered. “You may remember that it took some time for the carriage to get to you and pick you up from the party last night Lord Frederick?”

“I certainly remember that.” Ariadne piped up again. “I was rather angry about that as I wanted to get Freddie to bed.”

Syanna opened her mouth to make a joke.

“To sleep.” Ariadne snapped.

“Of course.”

Humour is a defense. I have seen it, I have used it myself. We were talking about dark and unpleasant things, no matter which way you cut it. We all knew it too. There was a lot to take in and a all of it was unpleasant and very dark. So we made jokes and it was then that Syanna decided that we had talked for long enough on an empty stomach before ordering her new page to go and get us some food.

“It's not much.” She told us as we were brought several platters of sausages, cheese, bread, and fruit. Kerrass and I ignored this and set to the meal with gusto. I wrote, last time I was in Toussaint, I wrote that Toussaint cooking is delicious. Absolutely divine. However, it's over dependence on wines as cooking sauces can make it a little overly rich for my long term tastes. It's the kind of thing where sooner or later you find yourself longing for a good steak and some potatoes and an onion gravy.

Kerrass has trained me well when it comes to food, as with so much in my life, and I ate my fill. This despite not really feeling that hungry.

Syanna left for a while to “check on a couple of things” while the rest of us spoke to the Captain of the guard about Syanna's romantic intentions towards him. A conversation that ceased when Syanna returned and we got back down to business.

“We knew that something was happening by this point.” Syanna took the narrative up again. “We had identified the three potential victims and we had spoken with each other as best as we could. We still weren't allowed to come in to see you for a consultation and Witcher Kerrass could not be found although our intelligence was that he was pursuing some monsters near some noble estates. Nothing unusual.

“We sent gallopers out to the major villages and vinyards insisting on a curfew and that no-one should be going out in groups smaller than three.”

“How likely is that to be followed and enforced?” Kerrass wanted to know.

“Oh, ridiculously unlikely. I wanted to ask the Nilfgaardian forces who are still trapped here due to the passes being blocked, for help but Annarietta refused. Wanting The new Toussaint Knights and guards to handle the matter.”

She scowled as she spoke and I could only guess at the argument that had raged between the two sisters.

“But at least we can depend on them to keep an eye out. The villages are not allowed to have their own militia's so they have invented a new term called “A vigilance committee”.”

De La Tour snorted. “Lynch mob would be a better term for them.”

“Unfortunately true. In theory it's a nice idea where the villagers keep an eye on each other in an effort to police their own and bring important matters to the attention of the Knights of Francesca. In practice they tend to take the law into their own hands.”

“Meaning vagabonds and village outcasts have a tendency to become... guilty.” Kerrass said flatly. “I have met many of these kinds of people in my travels.”

“Precisely so.” Syanna rubbed her eyes. “But Beauclair is an entirely different matter. There is absolutely no way that we can keep that under lockdown at the moment. Even if my sister would order such a thing. Which she won't.”

I had a vision of yet another sibling row.

“So we did the best we could with what we had available. We set up check points and look outs. We expected another attack although we didn't know where and we didn't know when. We were especially nervous when we realised that all of this was going on at the same time as the huge party.

“And we were not wrong. This time the girl was attacked, sixteen years old, nearly seventeen. Youngest daughter of the Baron de Trastamara. Marie de Trastamara was her name.”

“I'm going to take a guess at this.” I started. “Young? Pretty?”

“And rich.” Syanna agreed. “There are many men who were clamouring for her hand in marriage for all of those reasons although her father was having none of it. His wife died a few years prior to that in a hunting accident.”

“Oh?” Kerrass raised his eyebrows.

“No, it really was an accident.” De La Tour said. “The Duchess was aware of the stigma around “Hunting accidents” and assigned a Knight errant to look at the matter. The Lord was hunting down a boar while the lady was indulging in some falconing elsewhere. She was riding a new horse that was new to the stables. The Falcon screamed as it left her hand which startled the horse into throwing it's rider where she fell and broke her neck. The Baron was legitimately heartbroken.”

Kerrass subsided.

“So yes.” Syanna went on. “The Baron was refusing all suitors and keeping the girl back from everyone and everything to keep her from leaving the nest so to speak. I won't say that the girl enjoyed playing with this. She was certainly more than a little spoiled as the last child to grow up and leave home. But she certainly enjoyed being courted. Her Father's money would have been enough to snare a husband but given that she was also pretty, kind, charming and clever. It meant that the servants were fairly beating the suitors back.”

“The less savoury element of this.” De La Tour continued, interrupting slightly to Syanna's annoyance. “Was that there was a betting pool going on in the court to see who could take the young girls virtue. It actually got quite sinister at various points to the fact that her father had to hire a food and wine taster as a companion. So that if someone slipped her a love potion....”

Ariadne and Kerrass snorted in unison.

“Or some other kind of sleeping draught or something that would lower her inhibitions then it would be caught. She also never went anywhere without at least two guards.”

“Did she resent this?” Kerrass wondered.

“Apparently not.” Syanna spoke, glaring at De La Tour before turning back to us. “Rumour has it that there was an incident where she was trapped in a side room at a party with someone who was getting rather fed up with being told “no”.”

Something was itching in the back of my head again. “Who was that?” I wondered.

“Who was who?” Syanna wondered.

I noticed that Kerrass had seen my excitement and had leant forward a little with a slight frown.

“Who was it that trapped her in a side room?”

“What are you thinking Freddie?” Kerrass wondered.

“I don't know.” I admitted. “I'm rather out of practice at this.”

Syanna nodded. “I recognise a hunch when I see one. Alas it was just a rumour. It wasn't all that long ago that her father started hiring guards. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday I think.”

I leant back. There was something there. I had no idea what it was. I hated it. It made me feel like a new student. Someone who had just started the seminars. The moment of knowing that you know the answer but you have yet to gain the ability to be able to summon the information out of your subconscious when you wanted it to. I had hated it back then and I still hated it now.

“What happened?” Kerrass asked, presumably deciding that I wasn't going to solve the entire thing there and then on the spot.

Syanna and De La Tour looked at each other. “Our best laid plans failed us.” Syanna admitted.

“How did they fail?” Kerrass leant forward. “Incorrect? Incomplete? Incompetent? Corrupted?”

De La Tour's face began to redden and I saw Syanna put her hand on his shoulder.

“We are still investigating that.” She said.

“How possible is it that someone overheard something?” Kerrass wondered, gazing at them both intensely.

“Such things are always possible.” Syanna responded. “Some of the Knights and guards were, and are, still refusing to believe that Jack might be back. It is possible that various people didn't feel that operational security needed to be as tight as we wanted it to be.”

Kerrass nodded. “I have a sinking feeling.” He said. “You had checkpoints didn't you. Lookouts and the like.”

“We did.”

“And you had to tell people where they were didn't you. Beaurocrats and the like. I bet you even did your best to make points in areas. Saying something like...” he rotated his hand. “Something like preserving the society on a night of a big party.”

De La Tour started to go red. It's an odd shift of colour, going from the red of anger to the slightly pinker shade of embarrassment.

“And I bet.” Kerrass went on. “I bet that certain people were able to bribe certain other people as to the locations of these posts to get goods through for personal luxuries, or so that they could preserve the surprise of their outfit at the ball. Or to... heh.... preserve the fact that they were having an assignation with the lady who's house you had set up a guard post in front of.”

Kerrass sighed, taking Damien's reluctance to speak as an affirmation.

“Then you should not be too hard on yourselves.” He decided. “Nor on the guards, or Knights, that missed things. Where there is money involved, people will risk their lives on the grounds that “it could never happen to them.” Geralt used to tell a story about a man who used to carry the plague victims from the villages in the countryside for money. Was making quite a bit of coin as well without even considering that he might get the plague as well. Guess what happened.”

“Such petty corruptions are a way of life here.” Syanna told us. “We know it, the Duchess knows it. We can chip away at things, lessen it and ensure that we do not fall for it. But beaurocrats are beaurocrats and they get into that line of work for the money.”

“So there is no reason to suspect that the killer didn't know where the guard posts were.” Kerrass went on.

“Or the victims...” Sir Guillaume had been silent for a while. For a big man, he certainly knows how to fade into the background. “She was out with her two guards that night and no-one saw her passing.”

Kerrass nodded. “What happened?”

De La Tour spoke. “We know that Marie de Trastamara left home an hour after dark. Intending to arrive “fashionably late” to the party at Lady Orianna's house.”

“The artist's ball.” I checked.

“The very one. She wanted to make a bit of an entrance. While at the same time, having plenty of time to be able to enjoy everything that was going on. As was her father's decree, she was escorted by two of her father's guards. Hard men, well aware of how to use the weapons at their sides.

“The second best tracker in the Duchy works for me. The story he tells is this. Lady Marie and her guards were making their way to the party from the Baron's Beauclair townhouse. They were not being completely stupid. We know that they passed two of our look out points before they cut through some of the side streets rather than taking a massive detour by way of the main road. We believe that the trio was attacked at an intersection. The trio performed in the way that all bodyguard and principal teams should behave. One of the guards attacked the assailant or assailants in order to delay the attack and make room for the escape. The other guard took the Baron's daughter and ran in the other direction.

“The first guard fell almost immediately with a throat slash. Not exactly dead before he hit the floor but as near as makes no difference. The assailant could then be tracked from the blood splatter that he stepped in.”

“I knew that guard.” Sir Guillaume put in. “He was no slouch. I had tried to recruit him into the Knights but the Baron's money was rather more seductive to him than a lifetime of service.”

I couldn't tell if Guillaume was being scornful or not.

“But,” He went on. “His blade was unblemished, even under alchemical testing. Which means that he didn't even wound the attacker. The attacker must have been skilled in the extreme.”

I nodded. Important information certainly.

“The attacker chased Lady Marie and her remaining guard for some distance before the blood was cleaned from his shoes in some of the muck that is part of the street in that area. We have no idea what happened to him then.

“The guard and Lady Marie dodged around the neighbourhood a little. We don't know why. Evasion maybe,”

“Or they were being chased and cut off.” Syanna suggested.

“Or both. At some point there was another combat. We can show you the place and the other guard was wounded in the leg. Not badly but enough to slow him down. Speaking to some of the witnesses in the houses that lived nearby, we know that they tried to run on. One brave man and his wife offered a place to hide in their house. But the assailant, or assailants burst in and killed them both before Lady Marie ran on, from the state of things, pushed out the door by the last guard who decided to make a stand. According to my tracker, he died badly.”

De La Tour swallowed and took a deep breath before moving on. “We found a blood splatter a few streets over. We think that Lady Marie was trying to make it home when the assailant caught up with her. She fell and hit her head on the wall which, we assume, knocked her unconscious.”

“Assuming.” I muttered.

“Yes.” De La Tour snapped a little sharply. “Your aversion to assuming things is well known to us. However we also cannot help but notice how often you yourself assume things when it suits your purpose.”

I shrugged. “It is not an unfair comment. However that doesn't mean that I have to like it.”

Damien subsided. “I suppose not.” He rubbed his head. “We know she was moved from that point to the place where she died. She was taken to the graveyard necropolis. Where she was.... raped. At some point during this process she screamed which finally attracted the attention of the guards in the local watch area. They came into the Necropolis and found Jack, as described by you in your works as well as matching the description of the man found standing over the corpse of Flower of the Night, crouched over her, cutting into Lady Marie's body and removing the internal organs.”

He spoke quickly and uncomfortably. Getting through the thing as fast as possible. I could well imagine why.He stared at something that only he could see before shaking himself. “They acted the way that I would want them to act in any other situation, but this one. They shouted at him to surrender and to throw down his arms. He laughed at them. Stabbed Lady Marie one last time before turning and fleeing. Leaping up, over the graves before vaulting over the walls of the cemetary.

“The guards left a man with the body. It was clear that Lady Marie was already dead. Our field medic suggested that her throat had been cut shortly after she screamed. But the rest gave chase and they reached the top of the wall and gave chase.”

He sighed again.

“What happened next is the reason that I, personally, am beginning to believe the possibility that Jack, in some form or another, has indeed returned. I still pray that I am wrong. But I think he's back and here is why.

“You have no reason to believe it. But my men are highly trained. I know that they, like all town guard, have a reputation for being lazy, unwashed and mildly corrupt. But that is an attitude and a reputation that I carefully maintain. We train, we drill and we push them hard and I will say that I am proud of each and every one of them.

“I have been in that graveyard and necropolis. Those men have literally shown me where they saw Jack and where he went over the wall. They have also shown me how quickly they themselves, in all their kit and gear, could get over the wall. I could not do better myself.”

“I have seen the same and have tried the same.” Sir Guillaume added. “I must concur with Captain De La Tour on this.”

“Yes, well.” The Captain gave another one of his sniffs. “Jack did not have a long lead. Yes, I will call him Jack now. According to those guards, he was quick over the wall but not so quick as to cause comment. But when my lads got to the top of the wall. They could see Jack still accelerating down the street. He left them in the dust.

“They tell me that he was laughing as he went.

“After that, what's a good guardsman to do but they gave chase. They blew their whistles and rang their bells and they gave chase. They watched as he darted down a side alley and when they came round the corner, he was stood on the top of a nearby roof. He bowed to them and laughed. No... human, elf or otherwise could do that. There was no sign of any portal used and if there was a portal then which up to the rooftop, why not away.

“He was toying with them. He led them on a chase through the city. Some men joined from other guard posts. Some dropped out when they found that they could not go on. Good men all. And just when they thought that they would catch him. He would laugh and dart round a corner, or up a wall or vanish and reappear elsewhere in a puff of smoke and a flash of light.”

He was starting to become agitated, Syanna turned away from him. Her own face was unhappy and drawn.

“No human could do that.” He went on. “No mage either. And I fought Vampires. With Vampires there is smoke but it billows. And flows. And Vampires can be seen jumping to the roof tops. You can track them. Jack would just vanish behind a wall and reappear elsewhere.

“And he laughed. He just kept laughing.”

De La Tour was showing real signs of distress now. Enough that Syanna put her hand on his arm.

“He just laughed at us.”

(A/N: Chapter got out of hand. Nowhere near where I wanted it to end but for those of you that ACTUALLY COMPLAINED with the shorter chapter. This is what you get. ;PAlso, thanks for everyone that commented and reviewed. I am not going to start appealing for reviews but they are and were appreciated. I just wanted to say that again as well.Stay safe out there folks. The world is literally on fire at the moment and it would be heartbreaking if anything happened to any one of my friends in Fanfiction. And for the record, if you are reading this, then you are my friend.Yes, even if you hate it. Thanks for reading guys and again, stay safe out there)