CW: Mental health discussions.

I strode to the palace, stomping on the cobblestones as though they had done something to offend me, while my mind was working furiously.

I could have ridden up to the palace. I probably should have ridden up to the palace. It would have been quicker and safer. But I wanted to walk. I wanted to work the problem and I have always found that the best way to do that is to move. To keep the blood and the adrenaline flowing through your system.

It always happens the same way. After an insight comes, but before the entire puzzle has been worked out. There is a need in me to move around, turning the new insight over and over in my head. Looking at it from different angles and trying it out in different ways.

It was like… It was like when you are trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle. But the puzzle doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense and then, for some reason, you look at it from a different angle and you realise that the puzzle is actually a three dimensional puzzle with multiple layers, which allows you to see the patterns which will allow you to fit it all together.

I wasn’t there yet. I hadn’t fit all the pieces together yet. But what I had done was figure out how to put them together. I knew how to fit the pieces together, or rather, how I was going to fit the pieces together, and it felt so good.

But I needed to walk. I needed to stomp my way up to the palace and turn this new information around in my head. Turning it over and over and over again.

I knew what was happening now. I knew it. I couldn’t prove it, I didn’t know who the killer or killers were. But I knew what was going on. I knew the context of the entire thing and sometimes that was the whole battle.

And that’s how you solve mysteries. That’s how you do it. Kerrass had shown me that time after time on the path. Some of those examples are in these writings. Work the problem, step by step and piece by piece and sooner or later something will happen that will put you on the right path.

I had a pool of suspects now. But before I could act on that, I had to “make an account of myself and the investigation.”

Someone was delaying me. I know a political ploy when I see one. It did play into my theory to be fair. Someone powerful was making my life difficult when I could, when I should, be talking to people and telling them the things that I had figured out. Instead, I was on my way to the palace to stand up in front of the court and argue with courtiers. The other thing that I knew from past experiences was that such matters are never over and done quickly.

An enemy was striking at me. I was being steered. We were being steered and I didn’t like it, I felt like I was being led into a trap and I didn’t like that either. I kept thinking of Northern Redania and the hooded misshapen men of the cult of the First-Born, steering us where they wanted to go. I also remembered Sir Rickard’s tactics of refusing to be steered, even though it cost us dearly it had meant that some of us could survive.

This was the political equivalent of that event. We were being steered and delayed so I needed to refuse to play their game.

As a result, I had taken steps. One of the Guardsmen that were waiting outside Lady Josette’s house had taken a hastily scrawled message up to the palace to Syanna to tell her that I knew what was going on and to not say, or do anything until I got there. I told her to include Kerrass, Damien and anyone else involved in the investigation in that instruction.

I had also harnessed everything that I had at my disposal. I had contacted Ariadne and asked her to go to the palace, carrying the same message. She had left immediately.

But I needed to think. So I walked up to the palace. It was a physical need, almost a biological imperative. It was not the same thing as when you get the answer while you sleep. There was no thought of waiting for things to happen and then getting back to it later. I had to think about this. I could have done nothing else.

Kerrass enjoys it when I do this, when I get lost in a problem and pace, or sit, and stare into space as my mind works over the problem. He tends to laugh, occasionally wave a sandwich or something to eat under my nose, before wandering off and leaving me to it.

It was very similar to how I had felt turning over the problem of Francesca’s disappearance in my head. The same way that I had turned that problem over and over and over again in my head. To the point that it eventually became uncomfortable and unhealthy.

This felt different though. For the Francesca problem, there was an edge that was missing here. It was an edge of my own desperation. Of sadness, hopelessness and despair. The secret feeling that the issue with figuring out the Francesca problem was not that I could not find the answer. But because I had missed something important. That I was being kept from something, deliberately.

But here… I felt a surging confidence that had been missing previously. This was something that I could figure out. These were enemies that I could defeat, confound and punish. Here, I was going to win. All I had to do was to look at the puzzle from a slightly different angle, fit in a few more of the pieces in different places and directions and then I would have the greater shape of the matter.

I was frustrated, angry, tired, insulted and if I was being honest with myself, I felt better than I had in ages. Probably, better than I had felt since we had lost Francesca.

Yes there had been great joy in Skellige, but there, the puzzle was solved almost immediately, it was just a case of finding the right piece of the puzzle. In Redania, it was the same.

But here, there was a mystery and I worried at it like one of my father’s hounds would worry at the neck of the hare.

And to be able to think, or rather, to be able to think in this particular mode. I needed to move. In a study, or a camp-site, I would pace. But here, I could stomp.

I really gave those poor cobble-stones what for as well. Lord Palmerin had come with me because he felt it necessary to come and support the Knights. I had told him that he had other things to do but he didn’t see that.

“You have been summoned before the court in order for people to call you names and insult you. Damned if I’m staying away from that kind of thing. You will have my sword if you need it.”

“Grateful to you Palmerin. Just remember that your temper is not what it should be.”

He glared at me and I apologised for being quite so condescending.

But he would later tell me that the way I walked, it was as though the road had insulted my family in some way. As though, with each step I was stamping on the throat of a man that had “wronged a lady” and twisted my foot in order to cause them as much pain as possible.

Later, that image was funny. But for the right there and the right then?

I stalked over the bridge that separates the palace proper from the city itself and stormed past the guards and the palace.

One of the Knights of Saint Francesca was waiting for me. He saluted me and just for a moment, that gesture broke through my thought processes and a moment of hilarity bubbled at the back of my throat.

Here I was, in my old, battered but comfortable boots, torn and patched trousers, grubby leather coat with plain shirt and jerkin over me. I had my spear in my pouch slung easily over my shoulder and my fighting knife across my belly.

Opposite me was a young man that could fold me into one of those plaited loaves of bread. Towering several inches over me, half as wide as me again with arms that were thicker than my thighs. Resplendent in the armour of the Knights of Saint Francesca, plain and serviceable but polished and shiny so that they didn’t look out of place in the royal palace. Spear, shield and sword held, not in ceremonial positions, but rather held in a way that they could be used without thought, faster than it would take that same young man to take a breath.

And he saluted me?

The places that we find ourselves and the things that we find ourselves doing never cease to amuse and entertain me.

“Lord Coulthard?” He greeted me. Technically incorrect as Mark is the Lord Coulthard but now was not the time to be bringing up such matters.

I nodded to confirm my identity.

“If you will come with me My Lord, the Knight Commander requests your presence.”

“Yes, I said. I had a feeling she might.”

I fell in behind the poor man who did his best to increase my pace. “What’s going on?” I asked him quietly.

“It sounds like a lot.” The young man answered. “All I know is that a lot of people turned up to the palace this morning and demanded to speak with the Duchess. After that, the Knight Commander was summoned and now court is in full session. Matters are being delayed until everyone gets here.”

“Who else is here?”

“Master Witcher Kerrass arrived a little before you did. The Lady Ariadne arrived a little time ago by magical means. Captain De La Tour rode in some minutes ago.”

I nodded, but I had missed someone and the Knight immediately disabused me of my false security.

“We haven’t found Sir Guillaume though. It is known that he spent some time resting in his wife’s rooms this morning but he is not there now and we haven’t found him yet.”

“Ok.” I took a breath as that added a new dimension to my thinking. If anyone could take care of themselves then it was Sir Guillaume so I wasn’t worried about that. But he knew that we didn’t think that this was going to be the entity Jack and that information getting out, to anyone, could be disastrous. As Damien admitted earlier, we knew that we had a leaky ship.

“How long have we been looking?” I asked.

“Not long.” The Knight responded. “Not long enough to be worried.”

But long enough for me to worry.

We got towards the central courtroom. Syanna saw me almost instantly and beckoned me over.

The room itself was not quite as busy as it had been for the Empress’ coronation. But it was not far off. There were riotous colours everywhere and there was a buzz of expectant and, if I was any judge, slightly frustrated conversational noise in the air.

The Duchess wasn’t here yet. Possibly, hopefully even, kept out of the room by Syanna until we knew the play. I looked around as I approached the Knight Commander. Kerrass was there at Syanna’s elbow, both swords jutting out over his shoulder, glowering at everyone and everything that went near him while he was reading from a piece of paper that he stared at with some concentration. I felt instantly reassured as I always did in Kerrass’ presence.

Ariadne was also there. Standing next to Lady Vigo who was looking on with interest. I saw Damien arguing with a few nobles. I didn’t get long to assess but I rather thought that those men were trying to brow beat the Guard Captain into submission.

My family wasn’t there. I was both relieved, and concerned about that. Relieved that I didn’t have to deal with that again just yet, but also concerned as to wherever they were. I had a strange desire to keep an eye on them.

That thought needed to be taken out and examined later. Was I concerned for them? Or was I concerned about whatever it was that they might be up to. Was this a symptom of the damaged trust between us?

I made a mental note to think about that in a moment of better calm. Maybe talk to Anne about it.

That was it for my side, what about enemies? There were a lot of the prominent Vineyard owners present as well as those warriors and Knights that remained of the former Knights Errant.

I saw Sir Raoul standing off to one side of the court-room watching everything with a glitter of amusement in his eyes. Sir Alain de Moineau was standing talking with some other nobles that I knew that I had been introduced to, but was not entirely convinced that I could name.

Sir Gregoire was also talking angrily with someone. From the body language, it looked like a group of people were accusing him of things and he was doing his best to defend himself. He didn’t have the red face and vein protruding body language of a man with a temper. But more a hooded gaze, a clenched jaw and flared nostrils of a man that

was holding himself in check with a great deal of care.

I set aside the mystery of Sir Gregoire for another time.

Velles the Merchant was also visibly networking as well. He was not alone in being here under his auspices of a man out to make money. The thing about chaos is that there is always someone who can, and will, profit from it.

I could also see Colonel and Lady Duberton standing to one side of the court. There were a few other officers from the Nilfgaardian regiment that were still here, looking around with an amused detachment that always comes from being military men among courtiers. The detachment of men that are amused by what they see but know not to get involved.

Sir Morgan the Blackhand was in the middle of things with his wife. Both of them talking with considerable animation to whoever would sit stand still and listen to them for long enough.

I picked him out as the man that had organised this. There was no way that a court, this size, could be gathered this quickly off the cuff. If it was a regular gathering of court then that would be different, but I knew for a fact that the court of Toussaint was dismissed due to the winter break, as most courts are.

Just quickly. By “Court” I mean that period of time where the Duchess gathers people in order to discuss matters that are affecting the people and place of Toussaint at the moment. Rulers or nobles tend to hold to specific times in order to organise things. The Duchess likes things formal and had dismissed her court, just as formally, for the duration of the winter festivities planned around the inauguration of the Knights of Francesca as well as all the parties and things that commonly accompany Yule. Also because so few people wanted to travel from the more remote areas of Toussaint to come and attend the court.

And although I couldn’t speak for the Duchess, it might also be true that she just couldn’t be bothered over the Winter.

Court also tends to be dismissed during the height of summer. The time where all those people in their full courtly outfits, forced together in a small room, can cause a smell that can turn a sensitive stomach to vomiting.

Spring and Autumn tend to be the firmest times for court. Breaks for summer and winter. There are exceptions to this. Queen Meve is known to travel in Spring and Autumn because she likes Winter in one of the two Kingdoms and Summer in the other although I can never remember which way round it goes. So her court is actively dismissed during her times of travelling.

But this court. This gathering of nobles had been pulled together quickly and their mood had been tailored by someone. It had been shaped and organised.

Watching Sir Morgan work the crowd, he was my first suspect for all the planning. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he was behind the killings. He could have been an instrument, an accomplice or a dupe. But even so, I needed to keep an eye on him.

But I had run out of time and had reached Syanna. Damien was approaching too.

“What have you got for me Freddie?” Syanna asked me carefully.

I took a breath. “I think I know what’s going on.” I told her as quietly as I could manage.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Not here. The killer is almost certainly in this room right now. People are listening and as Damien and I discussed earlier…” The man himself had arrived and joined our little group. “Our ship is not very water-tight.”

Syanna grimaced but I could see her acknowledge that truth.

“Speaking of which.” I said, “Where’s Guillaume. He doesn’t know what’s been decided about Jack being a copycat, being kept quiet.

Syanna’s eyes widened. “We haven’t seen him. We know that there are messages flying around and…”

“I will look.” Kerrass said, folding the piece of paper and carefully tucking it inside his tunic. “Come on Damien.”

“Freddie.” Syanna muttered fiercely to me. “Give me something to work with here. My sister is coming and I want something more than “Enquiries are being pursued”.”

“I know what’s happening, or at least I think so. I have a theory that explains…”

“Guillaume’s just come in.” Damien told us.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

There he was, looking resplendent in his armour that had been polished to an eye-hurting intensity. He looked tired, drawn and much older than his years.

And Sir Alain had seen him before we did. Sir Morgan was not far behind.

“Fucking Fuck.” I said again.

“You go.” Syanna told me. “I am too watched and have to…”

I was already moving.

The conversation that I was heading to had already started. Alain was talking to Sir Guillaume, the body language was that he was concerned, there was no confrontation there, yet. In some ways that was worse.

“Lord Frederick, A moment of your time.” Someone called, I don’t know who but I wondered if it might have been Velles. Intercepting me? Or did he have a genuine reason to try and talk to me? It didn’t matter now, what was happening over there was far more important. Velles could wait and I pretended not to hear him.

I dimly felt the presence of Kerrass over my shoulder. Good. If things got intimidating, I would need that support.

Sir Morgan had joined Alain and Guillaume now. The two Knights were speaking quickly. Guillaume looked tired, weary, a little frustrated maybe but that could mean anything.

I pushed my way past a trio of other men that all wore dress swords and were talking in low voices. A chorus of offence and indignation followed me and I ignored that as well.

Guillaume was frowning.

I could finally hear Sir Alain. “... and I have had to all but incarcerate my wife back at my estate for safe-keeping. You have no idea how much that is aggravating her and that that, in turn, is aggravating me.”

“Which is precisely the point.” Sir Morgan challenged Guillaume.

An audience of people had gathered now. This had become the central part of the court and I was finding it difficult to get through.

“You and the Knights Francesca are supposed to be the protections that we all depend on Sir Guillaume.” Sir Morgan insisted. “Lady Marie Tratamara, dead, killed horribly and now Lady de Launfal as well. How long is this going to go on for?”

“I notice that you don’t mention the other women that have died.” Sir Guillaume tried to come across as being angry, but he sounded more tired than anything else.

“But that emphasises the point even more.” Sir Morgan crowed. “What are the Knights Francesca doing to protect us from the depredations of the Jack entity? This cannot go on, when are you going to admit that the Knights are out of their depth?”

“We have already made great strides in our investigation. But I would remind you fine gentlemen that…”

“Answer the question.” Sir Morgan insisted. “What are you doing to…”

I swore again and pushed through.

“Gentlemen,” I began, talking loudly. “Please would you allow me a moment to offer my condolences to Sir Guillaume on the loss of his aunt.”

“Of course, but now is hardly the time.” Sir Alain responded. “Grief over the dead should not take precedence over the protection of the living. There can be time to grieve later when my wife is no longer in danger from this… Jack creature. A creature which I notice that neither you, the so-called expert on the matter, or the Witcher that is glowering behind you can do anything about.”

“Also, I notice that you are now deigning to help us. Lord Frederick.” Sir Morgan added just a touch of sneering to his voice. And I also notice that Sir Guillaume’s, well known, temper has not singled you out for response, even though it finally took the death of a noblewoman to rouse you from the bed of your whore.”

There were a few gasps from the crowd.

The thought slickered across my mind. So Anne’s presence was no longer a secret. A leaky ship indeed.

“A mistake that I notice that the Knights Errant duplicated the last time Jack was making his presence felt in Toussaint.” I was trying to shift to the attack. In court, as on the training yard, it is always better to attack.

I saw Sir Guillaume’s brow furrow in thought, praying that he would take the hint.

“It wasn’t until a lady, my sister, was taken that the Knights Errant even dreamed of reacting.”

“How dare you.” Sir Morgan responded quickly. “No-one is denying that…”

A servant tugged me on the shoulder and muttered in my ear. “The Knight Commander wanted you to know that the Duchess is on her way.”

I nodded. All I had to do was to delay a bit longer and the arrival of the Duchess would mean that casual conversation would neuter this crisis. Then we can move onto diffusing the next problem

“I beg your pardon.” I told Sir Morgan.

“Is there something more important to you, Lord Frederick? Why do you insist on treating us all like second class people in the face of your much vaunted support for the field workers and farmers? You would place them above their anointed protectors.”

“Actually, yes I would.” I responded, “If only because without them, we don’t eat. Let alone grow…”

“That’s beside the point.” Sir Alain snarled. “I would be the first to admit that Crawthorne was an ass and made mistakes. But he was one Knight amongst many. Your sister was unlucky in her disappearance that the Jack creature was present here.”

“Precisely.” Sir Morgan chimed in. “There are many Knights here, experienced, hardened men that have experience in dealing with situations like this. The Knights Francesca are new to the realm and as such they do not have the skills necessary. The Witcher has failed, as exhibited by the death of Lady de Launfal, maybe Lord Geralt would do better than some Cat witcher.”

His disdain was rather obvious.

“This… Jack is undoubtedly a fine swordsman and a dangerous supernatural being. THis would not be the first time that some of us, even I, have faced such a demon. The Duchess would be far better served to dismiss the Knights of Saint Francesca and turn the matter over to a good and experienced man.”

“You yourself often state the need to use a professional over an amateur.” Sir Alain put in, his voice rising slightly. “So will you not admit that the Knights named for your sister have failed?”

“Yes.” Morgan echoed, his own voice ringing out loud and buffeting me with the force of it. “Admit it Lord Frederick. The Knights of Saint Francesca have failed. This is a time for experience and sure hands. Only such as they would be able to find and destroy so horrible a supernatural demon as this… Jack.” He sneered.

“Actually...” Sir Guillaume spoke up, his face red with anger.

And as he did so, my heart sank.

“Actually this Jack isn’t…” Sir Guillaume’s voice and indignation rose up before me like a physical thing.

I screamed.

For me, the entire thing seemed to happen as though time had been slowed down.

I remember seeing it all so clearly. I remember seeing the lines of antagonism that Sirs Morgan and Alain were using in order to get under both Guillaume, and my skin. I could see it. I could literally see it in the frown marks and the ever so slight laughter lines in Sir Morgan’s face.

I saw it in Sir Morgan’s sneer. There was just an edge to that sneer that told me that it wasn’’t a regular kind of a sneer. It was not the off-the-cuff natural sneer of disdain. This thing was calculated, rehearsed and practised. I would not have been surprised to find out that Alain and Morgan had worked out how they were going to do all of this in advance.

And I saw what was going to happen.

I have never been in a serious horse riding accident. Not a carriage accident or a wagon accident. I have certainly fallen off a horse, everyone does sooner or later if they learn to ride. But that fact had been driven into my head over and over again so I kind of knew that it was coming. So I knew that I would wake up, possibly taste blood, be a little dazed and then get back on my horse.

But those people that have been in that kind of accident tell me that it’s as though time slows down. It was like that. It was exactly like that.

I heard Sir Morgan’s comment about Jack being so horrible a supernatural demon and I knew what Sir Guillaume would do in order to fight back.

I can’t fault Sir Guillaume either. Some people might want to, for his naivete and the ease with which he had been goaded. I think that this is unfair. This was not his battleground. It was Morgan’s and looking back. I rather think that it wasn’t Alain’s battleground either. Guillaume was also grieving his dead Aunt, had probably not slept or rested properly. And here were some people attacking him, the organisation that he represented, a friend in the figure of myself and all the other people that were working hard in order to ensure that those people that had already died were the last people to find their end.

He is a Knight. One of, if not the, best in the continent. And when Knights see comrades under attack, or feel as though they are under attack themselves, then they fight back.

So he did so, denying what they were saying.

And I froze. Even if only for a second. I felt an immense pressure coming at me from all sides, weighing down on my head and squeezing me at my shoulders. I could feel that pressure in my ears as though I was under deep waters and those same ears were ringing as I fought to find a way to avert potential disaster.

I could see the words coming out of Sir Guillaume’s mouth. I could see them like ripples in the water and I could see where they were going to be.

My head started to pound as those words began to form and I fought to think what I could do, so I did the only thing that I could think of.

I screamed.

It was like an instant release of pressure and then my course was clear.

At some point, I had already raised my hands to the side of my head and I clenched my fists there. I rolled my eyes back in my head and groaned after the scream.

As I did so I pushed my thoughts through to Ariadne and although I wasn’t particularly coherent during those thoughts, What I basically said was “Tell them I’m having a fit.”

I groaned again and started falling backwards. Ariadne was there and caught me, carefully lowering my head to the ground.

I bit my lip as hard as I could until I tasted blood and forced my body to begin trembling. It can be done. It leaves you sore afterwards.

“For the Prophet’s sake, give him some air.” Ariadne wailed.

“You,” Kerrass was there, of course Kerrass was there and I felt a surge of relief. “Give me your belt.”

“What in the name of the…”

“GIVE ME YOUR DAMN BELT.” Kerrass roared.

“I demand to know what’s…”

“Lord Frederick is still recovering from injuries taken in the defence of those less fortunate than himself.” Syanna addressed the court formally and forcefully as I felt a thick wad of leather forced into my mouth. A couple of feminine screams could be heard at the sight of the blood.

I would later find out that Ariadne had spoken to Lady Vigo through some form of Telepathic link who had, in turn, spoken to Syanna. “He is all but killing himself in aiding us in the pursuit of this resurgence of the Jack phenomena and as such, we owe him our respect. Give him some room.”

‘You don’t have the authority to…”

“Yes.” Came another, much colder and more trained voice. “Yes she does.

I was still doing my best to tremble convincingly on the floor. Kicking my feet occasionally and whimpering into Ariadne’s midriff. Not an unpleasant place to be generally speaking.

The court that had been chuntering and muttering in the wake of my “swoon” quietened instantly as the cold presence of the Duchess entered the room.

There is a noise that you can hear in Courtrooms all around the continent. It’s the noise that occurs when the most powerful person in the court enters the room. I saw it when the Empress entered somewhere, When my father used to hold court as well as numerous Lords and ladies the continent over who have engaged Kerrass’ services in one form or another.

It’s the sound of dresses, cloaks, trousers, armour and the occasional clang of a sword clashing on the floor, as everyone in the room moved aside and bowed for the Duchess as she strode into the Courtroom like a War galley parting the waves.

I’ve actually seen a war galley under sail now and can confirm that this is exactly what it looks like.

I listened to that sound, as well as the slow, clear footsteps as the Duchess got closer and closer to where I lay, doing my best to keep my eyes closed and tremble convincingly.

“What is going on here?” The Duchess demanded formally. “And why is there blood on my floor? Explain yourselves gentlemen, did you attack one of the guests of my court?”

“Not in the slightest.” Sir Alain sounded mortified. I couldn’t see because I was still forcing my body to imitate violent spasms. I was trying to emulate the stage where you are mostly recovered but just occasionally, your body betrays you.

“I agree.” Sir Morgan had a touch of frustration in his voice. Why? It was a little unclear. It might have been the fact that I had denied his courtly play or it might have been frustration at the fact that his quarry had escaped him. It was just as likely that he was frustrated that he had been accused of assaulting me when clearly, performing such an act would be wrong of him on a deep and personal level.

“Commander?” The Duchess demanded.

Syanna cleared her throat. “Lord Frederick has been working hard alongside my people in order to try and track, contain and eliminate the Jack entity. It might be said that his devotion to this duty has caused a relapse into his injuries from his previous efforts to keep the continent safe from evil.”

“I see. Will he be alright?”

“I defer to Madame La Comtesse du Angral.”

“He will be fine.” Ariadne said calmly with just a hint of concern. “He just needs some air and then some time to recover his wits. Might I ask for somewhere private for him to go so that he can do that. He will be mortally ashamed when he wakes up.”

“Of course. Please tell him that Toussaint is grateful for his efforts on our behalf and that the shame is ours for putting him in this position.”

“I will do so.” She said. “Witcher Kerrass, could I ask you to help Lord Frederick into an adjoining room.”

“I am at your service.” Kerrass rumbled.

I muttered something.

“Give me a hand Sir Guillaume.” Kerrass said.

There was some clanking of armour as Guillaume knelt next to me and between the two of them, they “helped” me to my feet.

“I ask that I may be allowed to accompany Lord Frederick. He has been acting under my orders and his illness now is my responsibility. I would see him recovered.” Syanna said. “After all, we wouldn’t want our starlings to come home to roost would we.”

I had to physically keep myself from responding to that. It seemed an odd phrase to use.

“Absolutely not.” Sir Morgan protested. “We are gathered here for you to explain to the court why “Jack” is neither in your custody, nor is he destroyed. You will stay here and…

“Of course you may go Commander, and I would remind the honourable gentleman that this is my courtroom and that I give the orders here. I have no doubt that my sister will be able to return here in order to give her account of the matter after Lord Frederick recovers. And then we might be able to rely on his opinions as well.”

“Of course,” Sir Morgan conceded with little grace. “Forgive me.”

“You are forgiven. We share your eagerness to put this matter behind us. Damien,” the Duchess called. “You go with the Knight Commander as well and see to it that Lord Frederick is not disturbed during his recovery.”

Someone clicked their heels together, but I was already being led, almost carried away by Kerrass and Guillaume.

I was pulled out into the outside corridor and I started to get my feet under me…

“Not yet Freddie.” Kerrass whispered, and I tried to lie a bit heavier in the arms.

I was taken into another room. It turns out that you can tell by the movement of the air.

“Everybody out.” Syanna ordered. “Lord Frederick is ill and we require privacy.”

“Leave the tea and the pot of honey.” Ariadne ordered. “Also, bring some iced buns.”

“But knock on the door before entering.” Syanna added. “I will have the head of anyone that disobeys this as it might seriously damage one of the Duchess’ honoured guests.”

There were some more footsteps moving around and some doors closing.

“It’s safe Freddie.” Ariadne said, “but don’t try to do too much. Even pretending to have a fit can trick the body into thinking that you are having a fit, be gentle with yourself.”

I nodded and allowed myself to be helped upright, when that task was managed and I was able to get past the ringing in my ears and the slight dizzy spell, I opened my eyes carefully.

“Wait,” Sir Guillaume was frowning, “That was a pretense?”

“Mostly,” Ariadne allowed. “There were some other things going on so I’m only happy with allowing that it was mostly a pretense.”

“In the name of the heron why?” Guillaume protested. You can take the man out of the Knights Errant but you can’t take the Knight Errant out of the boy.

“I beg your pardon Sir Guillaume.” I said as I stretched my legs. Ariadne was right, I felt stiff and uncomfortable. “But you were about to give things away to our enemies.”

“Oh well that’s alright then.” The matter was dismissed out of hand with a speed that was a little bewildering.

The context of the matter was that Syanna was trying to instill in her Knights that lying, cheating, stealth and otherwise dishonourable tactics are perfectly acceptable in the face of an enemy. Especially one that has no honour themselves.

Sir Guillaume had already decided that our enemies had no honour.

He was not wrong.

Then his ears caught up with what I had said. “Wait, Sirs Morgan and Alain are our enemy?”

“Maybe.” Syanna said. “They’re certainly on the list.”

“The truth is that even if they are not, the people doing this were almost certainly listening.” I told them. “As I say, I think I know what’s happening here.”

Kerrass pulled a chair closer and looked around. “I have found in my time with Freddie,” he said to the room. “That if he is having a hunch, then generally that hunch is correct.”

I considered this compliment. “The Dragon.” I eventually decided.

“Also, that something was seriously wrong regarding your father’s death.” He responded, settling himself in the chair.

Syanna also pulled over a chair, “Then let’s hear it.”

Other people gathered around me, at some point, someone had draped a blanket over my shoulders which I thought was a bit of overkill, but then again, I was also shivering.

Never let it be said that dealing with mental injuries can’t be weird sometimes. I had faked the attack, but then, in doing so, it seemed I had triggered something of a real one.

I frowned in thought, looking around at all the expectant faces and tried to think about where to start. Sometimes, this is not as easy as it sounds.

“Why Starlings?” I asked suddenly.

“What?” Syanna blinked.

“Why “Starlings coming home to roost”? I thought that the saying was about Pigeons coming home to roost.”

“I fail to see how this is relevant…”

“Don’t fight it.” Kerrass poured himself a drink. “Freddie’s mind is an interesting place at the best of times and when he’s thinking, or scared, often when he’s angry, his mind throws out these random questions. It’s like…”

I should say that I zoned out at this point, staring into space as I thought about my theory again. I was pretty sure I was right.

Apparently though, what Kerrass said was “It’s like when you are riding a race horse. Do you ride race-horses?”

“I do.” Guillaume said. “It’s often a part of the tournaments and although it’s not my favourite, or best, event. It is important to hone these techniques.”

“Well when you are racing your horses, there are obstacles, targets to shoot or strike with a weapon. Fences or ditches to jump. In this method, Freddie’s mind is the horse and the random questions that he throws out are the obstacles that just… occur to him. I once saw him ask an angry shapeshifting dragon where her staff came from when she turned into a Sorceress.”

“So what do we do?”

‘Just answer the question. If he doesn’t spit out the theory, then just prompt him occasionally. I do it with food, or a sword point sometimes if I’m feeling testy.”

Apparently, Damien sniggered.

“In which case. Starlings are…. Freddie are you listening?”

“Hmm?” I came back to myself and the room with a snap.

“The Starlings coming home to roost is a code phrase between my sister and myself. We change the phrase every few weeks or so, but it essentially means, “don’t ask, just trust me. I’ll explain later.” Something that she came up with actually. I love my sister, that is when I don’t want to claw her smug, superior and arrogant eyes out. But she has a devious mind and she thought we might need such a phrase. Of course, I can’t execute her if she’s doing it just to annoy me.”

I nodded and paused as I waited for my thoughts to line up.

“This is about you.” I told her.

“What?”

“The Jack killings.” I said. “It’s not about the women, the killings or the brutality. It’s not about the fear that they are generating or all the changes that they might be making. It’s about you. They are coming after you and the rest of the Knights Francesca.”

“Why not just kill me?” Syanna wondered for just a moment before her face almost relaxed. “Oh, because then I’ll be a martyr.”

I nodded. “I think that there’s a group of conspirators somewhere. I don’t know who, but as sure as I’m sitting here talking to you now, the leader of the conspiracy was in that courtroom getting ready to haul you over the coals for your handling of these killings. I don’t know if it’s a group of Knights, or a group of merchants, or noblemen. I don’t know if it’s just one person and some servants, mercenaries or bandits that they’ve hired. Or if it’s a much larger conspiracy. But I’m pretty sure I’m right here.”

“Why would they do that?” Guillaume wondered. “What would be in it for any of those groups? I struggle to believe that some of my former colleagues among the Knights Errant would stoop to such a pretense. Even Gregoire would…”

“It might also be an attack against the Empress.” I theorised. “The last Jack incident in Toussaint resulted in the disbanding of the Knights Errant at the Empress’ hand. Now there’s another series of attacks and they want to discredit her changes.”

“Or an attack on my sister as well. The Knights Francesca are her idea as well as ours.”

“But as to why they’re doing it, or coming after the Knights Francesca? Merchants might do it out of greed. The old Knights Errant worked on the honour system. So when merchants needed to get around a higher tax or tariff as they came into Toussaint, could be avoided or mitigated with the buying of the relevant Knight Errant a cup of wine at the inn. Then the Knight says that the merchant is “a good man and a good friend and doesn’t need to have his wagons inspected” and is therefore dismissed. But you are training the Knights Errant not to do that.”

“We are.”

“Landowners are the same. When it was the Knight Errant system, a landowner could avoid inspections, sell wine on the side or do any other kinds of things because the Knights Errant knew him to be “a man of honour”. As such, a man of honour wouldn’t dream of growing the raw ingredients for Fiss-tech in one of the remoter parts of the grounds so why bother looking.

“And as for Knights, they just want their old power back. A return to the glory days when they could walk down the street and people would bow and scrape and be grateful just to be in the presence of so august personage.”

“You are being a little naive as well there Freddie.” Kerrass said. “There is another reason why people might hate the Knight Commander.”

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“And why is that?” Syanna’s eyes glittered as she smiled slightly. I am very nearly convinced that she knew what Kerrass was going to say.

“You are the woman that brought the vampires down onto Beauclair.” Kerrass said. “It was not that long ago that that happened. It was only, what, a couple of years before the Fish-Market?”

“Less.” Damien was shifting uncomfortably. “A little less.”

“And now you are in a position of power when some folk might think that they should be in charge of the new order of Knights. Your sister has forgiven you, those that work for you might forgive, or tolerate you. But others will not forgive or forget so easily.”

Syanna sighed. “It was to be expected.” She said. “I’m just surprised that they’ve started so quickly. I would have thought that they would have waited a year or two at the least.”

“I am sorry.” De La Tour said.

“Why?” Syann wondered, looking at him with a lopsided smile. “Have you betrayed me? Have you betrayed Toussaint?”

“Of course not.” Damien’s moustache quivered in indignation.

“Then why are you sorry. Do you hate me?”

Damien sighed. “Sometimes.” He admitted. “In the depths of the night when I can feel a Vampire’s claws score my flesh. When I can feel the heat of the fires and hear the screams of the dying. The look of confusion and disbelief in the eyes of my men as they get dragged off to be eaten.

“And again when those men’s families complain or weep. Or wonder why I support you and the Knights.”

“Why do you?” I wondered. Syanna didn’t look like she was going to ask and I was curious.

“Because to do otherwise is unthinkable. Because she is trying to make Toussaint a better place. Because she was trying to make it right and it was her sister that stopped her from going to Detlaff. Because Detlaff unleashed those Vampires.”

He shook his head. “Yes, sometimes I hate Syanna. But the things that killed those men were the Vampires in question. At a push, they were killed by the General that sent them. And I will say this again Knight Commander, and again every time you need to hear it. Yes, I sometimes hate you. No, I do not blame you.”

Syanna nodded. It had the feel of an old conversation.

“I want to go back to the beginning though.” De La Tour said. “I get that you think that this is what is happening. But why do you think that? What was the order of events?”

“Ok.” I said, pausing one last time to order things in my head. “Here’s how I think it happened.

“I think that there was a growing conspiracy that took place in the immediate aftermath of my sister’s disappearance, the fish-market and the disbanding of the Knights Errant. At first, it might not even have been that sinister. Just a group of former Knights errant complaining over their lost prestige, complaining at the incompetence of the Knights that had lost them everything.

“I can easily imagine such men saying “I always knew that about young Crawthorne but the Duchess kept calling on him despite the presence of far better men.” And then “The Duchess was always a bit soft on him. Do you reckon he was giving her a swift seeing to when court was done.” And, “If only we had been the ones chosen, if only we had been at the Fish-Market then none of this would be happening.” “Fucking Empress, barely off her mother’s aponstrings, how dare she interfere with our business.” And on and on it would go.

“Some of these men will have grown up and got on with life. Some may have joined with the Knights Francesca when they finally managed to let go of their bitterness…”

“I was one of those people.” Admitted Sir Guillaume.

“So was I,” Damien added.

“But then… I think there was a period of turnover. Where people would come and go but a solid core of people were getting together and their resentment and disdain for the actions of the Empress was being distilled into raw hatred. Merchants joined when the Nilfgaardian presence started cracking down on smuggling and trade. Landowners started to join when the same happened and things like tolls and unofficial farming rents and taxes were curtailed.”

“That actually happened.” Sir Guillaume spoke up. “There was a village to the north that paid it’s taxes to the landlord, but then the Lord would send round glorified bandits to take further taxes. We couldn’t prove it was him, even though everyone knew who it was.”

“But then, enter our unknown group of masterminds, or mastermind. They get these people and say “Well, instead of sitting around and moaning about it all day, why don’t we do something about it.” I don’t know when this happened, but if I had to guess, it would be somewhere around when you Syanna, and or you Damien, were appointed head of the Knightly order that would replace the Knights Errant. Then old, or not so old, hatreds and prejudices come to the fore and people start getting really angry and our enemies make their plans.”

“Fascinating story.” Damien said, “No no, it’s all very feasible, but up until now… We can’t prove anything that Freddie is saying and our suspect pool includes myself and Guillaume.”

“Well let me narrow it down. I think this entire thing started with the attack on Lady Vivienne.”

Guillaume had been standing nearby when I said this. He raised his eyes to mine and that gaze was so cold that I shivered. He seemed to consider.

“I think.” He said carefully. “I think you should explain that declaration, Lord Frederick.”

“And I will. Lady Vivienne was attacked the night that the Knights Francesca took over guardianship of Toussaint correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I think that that was the initial intention. I think that the plan was to kidnap, torture, and kill… Lady Vivienne.”

“Do not mince words Lord Frederick,” Guillaume snarled. “They were going to rape, abuse and disfigure her as well.”

“Yes.” I said. “Yes they were. I think that this was a deliberate and considered “fuck you” to you Guillaume for joining the Knights Francesca in the first place rather than maintaining your opposition to the new order. I think it was going to be a statement of “Look, you can’t even keep one of the most prominent citizens of Toussaint safe, how can you be trusted to keep the rest of us.” blah blah blah. I think that it would have been in the court the following day that the Knights Francesca hadn’t been properly trained and how this could be allowed to happen. There would be hand wringing, wailing and gnashing of teeth.

“In the meantime the Duchess would be emotional from the loss of her friend, Guillaume would be distraught for obvious reasons and things would start to fall apart. Then it would only be natural for the old Knights Errant to step up and take control to preserve and look after Toussaint. In order to steady the ship.”

Syanna grimaced. “That might have worked as well.” She said, “Although I think it’s far more likely that we would just be stuck with Nilfgaardian professionals for longer, maybe indefinitely.”

“But,” I said. Their efforts to do so against Lady Vivienne were foiled because they underestimated the lady in question.”

“Yes they did.” Guillaume smiled and sat down, his brief moment of temper dissipating.

“So, injured, frustrated, angry and with more than a little stymied lust in them. Those men retreated to lick their wounds. There was a conversation among themselves along the lines of “The Guard will be out now.” And I think that the conspiracy lost some members there.

“But then one of the conspirators and attackers decides that his rage erection just won’t go down and says so. Insisting that they find a woman. Another says, or maybe the same one, but someone says. “‘Ere. There’s this girl that works at the Cockatrice, name of Appoline. She’s gorgeous and is always turning me down as well…” Which reminds me. Can we add a list of people that Lady Vivienne declined for marriage before she accepted your proposal Guillaume. That might tell us much.”

He nodded.

“So they all troop off to do to poor Appoline what they wanted to do to Vivienne, this time taking the precaution of clubbing her over the head first so she was less likely to be able to mount a proper amount of self-defence.”

I turned to Guillaume.

“I think your wife owes her life to the fact that they did not think of that in her case.

“However,” I went on. “Appoline’s death does not have the same effect on Toussaint as Vivienne’s death would. The attack on your wife Guillaume, also meant that the attack on Appoline was lost in the noise. Our guys became disappointed by this. But then, our mastermind steps back to the fore and says. “No, don’t you see? This works for us.”

I took a short break to take something to drink and to eat one of the pastries that had appeared at some point. It was one of those moments where I had no idea what time it was, had forgotten the last time I had eaten anything substantial and had therefore realised that I was absolutely starving.

The others in the room were exchanging looks. I had no idea what those looks meant so I forged on.

“This man,” I began again, “I say this man because I cannot imagine the person being a woman.” Weak of me? Possibly but there we go. “This man, this leader figure is the dangerous one I think. And I think we have to assume that he is already thinking ahead of us. We have to assume that he has planned this out and knows where he, and we, are going.

“I think he said something along the lines of “This quiet works for us. Because it shows that the Knights of Saint Francesca are neglecting their duties. They don’t care about this common barmaid any more than the old Knights Errant did. So let’s use that. Also, we did so badly the first time we did this, we need some practice. So let's kill again. Another person out in the sticks, someone that no-one else will ever care about. Someone that we can all but get away with, someone that will be ignored. Then, next time we can start building ourselves up to the point that we are dancing around and doing our thing in the middle of Beauclair and no-one can stop us.”

““But hold on,” says a supporter, “There are still quite a few Knights and for all that the Knights might be relatively inexperienced, the Beauclair guard know what they’re doing. They are surely not Knights, but they are far nastier and more unpleasant than Knights. And there’s a lot more of them than us. As there are Knights of Saint Francesca.”

“The leader considers this for a moment before remembering Jack. There could be any number of reasons as to why that is. The Francesca connection, that they might be upset with Emma and her mercantile efforts, my family in general for any number of reasons. Me. Or Kerrass. But they remember Jack.

““Then here’s what we will do.” He said. “We will pretend. We will dress as Jack, impose our will, use cheap tricks to pretend that we have special powers that Jack exhibits when he is actually here and then we build things up and build things up until we can take it to court and prove how incompetent the Knights, and the Knight Commander are.”

“And that’s what I think is happening.” I said. “I think Madame Donnet was another unfortunate who had declined the attentions of the wrong person and paid the ultimate price for it. I think that that was the first time that “Jack” was attempted. Remember that he was caught, literally, with his dick hanging out. I think it was a test run. I think it was one man, as a volunteer. Someone young and convinced of his immortality. Confident that they wouldn’t get caught.

“When that worked and they heard about some of the growing resentment amongst the farm and village folk. They decided to up their game and come up with a slightly more elaborate plan. One of the conspirators thought about Flower of the Night and remembered that they had always wanted her and that they had never had the chance to give that a go.

“It was at least two men but probably more. One dressed as Jack on the rooftop with a bag of gore or something to dip his knife in when the body would be discovered. One or two to club Night flower over the head and carry her to the chosen alley where they did their business. Unfortunately, we will not, now, know if that site was staged the same way as Lady de Launfal’s death was staged. So it is also possible that the place was set up in advance.

“But they did the deed, the scream attracted the drunk. I honestly think that the killers were still hidden in the alley when the drunk was finally able to see Jack, hidden behind a barrel somewhere.

“This success emboldens the killers even further. They know about the party, indeed I suspect that more than one of them were in attendance at that party. They know about Lady Marie and so they decide to escalate things a little bit. To get the moral outrage of the countryside up a bit more by despoiling and killing a generally popular, flower of innocence. This time, it involves lots of people. Using the methods that they probably took from journals and the story of Jumping Jack of Oxenfurt. They lead the guard on a merry chase.”

I looked at Damien.

“If I’m right.” I told him. “And I suspect I am. But if I’m right. Don’t be too hard on your people. They will have been scared, angry and not thinking clearly. I don’t think we can blame them for not thinking clearly.”

“If what you’re saying is true.” He said. “Then I can blame them a little bit. They should have been thinking clearly, if only because they might have been being led into a trap. I deliberately train them into not doing that.”

“Finish your theory Freddie.” The Knight Commander told me.

“Now they’re doing well.” I said. “They have demonstrated that the Guard cannot catch them, that their subterfuge works, public opinion is getting worse. The Lowest worker up to the highest lady is involved. I also think that they have someone, or several someones that are involved in the investigation so that they know where we are with things and as a result, they know about it when you finally manage to get Kerrass and I involved.

“But, they don’t want the Knights to be thinking clearly on one hand, but they want to be a little more cautious on the other. So now they start attacking the Knights. So they attack the estranged wife of your weaponsmaster. That attack was rushed, sloppy. They take chances, but they rush it in order to not get seen, caught or identified. They leave that message to me because they know that I am not entirely well and hope that that pressure would make me worse and less useful to you. They hope that Lady de Launfal’s death will anger you, as in “The Knights” you. And that that anger will throw you off your game a little.

“Which is when the other side of the plot starts to get to work,” I said. “So right now, you are supposed to be in that courtroom, surrounded by peers, angry, hurt and desperately keeping things together as they batter you with accusations of incompetence, favouritism and Flame only knows what else. All in an effort to get you to lose your temper or otherwise regress into the woman that they all suspect you to be.

“All building towards the idea that they hope that, at best for them, the Knights of Saint Francesca are disbanded and authority is returned to the Knights Errant. At worst, they can get Syanna replaced with a Knight more sympathetic to their cause who can continue to dismantle the Knights of Saint Francesca from within. In the meantime, your enemies are in there, waiting for you, to gauge where your thinking is and what you are doing.”

I leant back in my chair, fair exhausted.

“There is another factor too.” Of all people, Ariadne made the point. “You were all summoned to make an account of yourselves. In this room, I see the best investigators of the crimes. The people that we know for sure are not part of the plot. That are definitely not leaking to someone else. You are all here at court and not investigating. I would add a supposition to Freddie’s which is that the court procedure is going to be drawn out and dragged out to the point that you will have ended up wasting your day. Then, when someone dies again tonight, the same thing will happen tomorrow.”

Syanna’s face was impassive as she listened.

“I am intrigued by this “mastermind” figure.” She said. “What can you guess about him?”

“Just so long as you know that I’m guessing.” I told her. “I think that he is the one that knows about Jack. Others will know cursory details, but he will actually know the details. He will almost certainly be well aware that the real Jack comes for copycats in the end and I would therefore bet a, not small amount of money that he has never, and will never, wear a Jack costume. I would also bet that he has careful alibis for every night that someone has died and I would go even further to bet that he will cut his subordinates out the instant that it all starts to go wrong. Because he knows that it will. One way or another.”

Syanna nodded, frowned a little as she accepted all of that, then nodded again.

“Alright. Thankyou Freddie. What does everyone else think? Witcher?”

“I think it’s plausible.” Kerrass said. “Leaving aside Freddie’s ability to be right far more often than he is wrong, I can confirm that there was certainly more than one person that was masquerading as Jack the night that Lady Marie was killed. I would say, anywhere between four to eight people were involved in that effort.”

“Not a mage?” Damien wondered.

“No. To do what they did, a mage would need to teleport and there are no signs of teleporting.”

“What signs?”

“Ariadne?” Kerrass prompted.

She smiled. “A mage does not just vanish and reappear where we want to go. That’s not how it works. We open a hole… There are more technical pieces of language involving things like “space-time” and “folding distance,” but that’s essentially what it does. It opens a hole, a tunnel from one location to the other. Big enough for one, at higher skill and power levels you can do two or more people. The signs that Kerrass is talking about is that opening such a gate does not leave the surrounding areas undisturbed.

“Think like water spiralling down a hole in the floor. But it can tug loose debris, roof tiles, bricks, bits of wood, that sort of thing. The less stable the tunnel, the more debris is thrown around. And one of the factors that can decrease the stability of a tunnel is doing it quickly. Say, while running away from a bunch of angry guardsmen?”

Kerrass nodded. “That’s why it wasn’t a mage. The broken roof tiles that I found were from foot falls and the occasional slipping of a runner. Someone climbing over rooftops that are not really used to it. There were no overturned loose tiles or other disturbances of debris.”

“Ok, no signs of any other creatures? You said that a Witcher could do it? I’m not saying that one has, but I’m saying that one could do it.”

“Even at my highest intake of potions. If I had taken so many potions that my belly sloshed around. If I had taken enough potions that even I ran the risk of being poisoned. There were feats that Jack demonstrated that night that I could not perform. The supposed presence of a Witcher simply means that less people would be needed. Two or three people rather than the “at least four” people that I mentioned.

“I like Freddie’s theory.” Kerrass turned back to Syanna. “It fits the facts that we know, it’s believable, it’s suitably cunning but has enough holes in it to be very human in construction. I will admit that I’m biased, but I’m sold.”

Syanna nodded.

“Guillaume?”

The big man with the painfully expressive face that creased in concentration for a moment, shook his head. “I don’t think my opinion should count.”

“Why not?”

“Freddie’s theory suggests that my wife’s attackers are behind this. All this time I have been fighting the instinct that tells me to drop all this nonsense and hunt, Knight Errant style, for those men. Now Freddie tells me that they might be behind these deaths, and that they intended to do the same things, if not worse, to my wife.” Honest to flame tears started to flow down his face. “I am not thinking clearly. I want to tear the court apart and find the men responsible. I want to destroy Beauclair, brick by brick until those waste’s of human life are brought before my sword. I should not give my opinion. Indeed, were I in your place I would send me to my home, or keep me in the palace under guard so I don’t do anything stupid.”

Damien clapped the young man on his shoulder. Whether in pride, solidarity? I don’t know.

“Would that I could.” Syanna said, her own eyes showing a hint of pride beneath the steel. “I really wish that I could. But the one thing that we know to be true, before all else, is that we can not, yet, completely trust our fellows and subordinates. Not through fault of their own but they are fighting years of conditioning and training.”

“I think you are wrong there.” Guillaume said, his eyes blazing with the same passion that he had shown when talking about his wife, just a second before. “I think you are being unfair. There are good men and women in the guard and among the Knights. Men and women who would die for Toussaint and the Knights of Francesca. Who would bite off their own tongues before divulging confidences that you gave them.”

“Most.” Syanna agreed. “Most of them would. But just as many of them are trained from birth to obey parental and old alliances before me. Who want to view the Duchess, my sister, as a figurehead for them to control. We will get them out of that habit, but it will take time and we do not have time to play intelligence games to find out who we can trust. So we must trust the people in this room. You are one of those because one of those deaths is of your family. And Freddie’s theory suggests that you are a target. So I must insist. What do you think of the theory?”

Guillaume wailed a little and threw his hands up in the air. “It’s a good theory.” He said. “I like it. I can see some holes in it but it does fit all the facts and I can think of several of my former colleagues, even current colleagues, that would think like that.”

“Oh?” Syanna’s eyes glittered. “Current Colleagues?”

“The difference being that those men would harness those talents for your benefit. You know them already, you put them to guarding the trade routes and watching the docks. You literally said that you would set a devious bastard to watch for devious bastards.”

“That’s not what I said.” Syanna grinned. “But it’s close. Madame Comtesse?”

“I am hardly one of your team.” Ariadne raised an eyebrow.

Flame but I love it when she does that.

“I’m not going through this again.” Syanna told her. “What do you think of the theory?

“I’m a scientist. A theory is a set of principles put together in order to explain something that is supported by data.” Ariadne replied. “As theories go, it is a good one. It is believable, it obeys all laws of human nature and most importantly, it contains all the facts. Are there holes in it? Of course, no theory is perfect. But in this case, I rather think that the holes in the theory are there because there is evidence that we don’t yet know about. Not because there are facts that fall outside the trend of results.

“The main problem that I can see with the theory is that it is very nearly just an hypothesis in that there is no evidence to support it. It explains the circumstances and the data that we have, but is otherwise unsupported by independent facts. It is also based on two assumptions. Which means that if either of those assumptions turns out to not be true, then the entire theory falls apart. Those assumptions being Kerrass’ assertion that there is more than one person involved with this conspiracy and Freddie’s similar assertion that what we are dealing with is not Jack. If either of those things turn out to not be true, then the entire theory falls apart. ”

“Do you agree with those…” Syanna smirked. “Assumptions?”

“For me? I think it’s true that these killings are too crude to be the work of the entity Jack and when the world leading expert in the field is telling you something is true, then it is often true. But that is not proof, it is opinion. The theory is a very complex one. It is my experience that in nature, things default to the simplest explanation. In this case, the simplest explanation is still that it is Jack and that we have not found the connection yet.”

She turned to Kerrass. “Your declaration that the attack on Lady Marie and the ensuing chase was carried out by multiple people is based on the assumption that Jack isn’t involved is it not?”

Kerrass tilted his head on one side for a moment before shrugging and nodding.

“Then there we have it. I agree with those assumptions. But they are not proven, not yet. It is well within Jack’s sense of humour to use Pig’s blood to scrawl a message on the wall, as it would be a practical solution for human killers.”

There was a bit of silence after that where people looked at each other. Damien would later admit that he was still trying to work out all of the words that Ariadne had said.

“Do you not…?” Guillaume cleared his throat. “Freddie, do you not find it intimidating when she starts talking like that?”

Kerrass started chuckling.

“Or boring?” Damien went on. “Don’t you find yourself wanting to fall asleep when she talks like that?”

“Not exactly.” I said. “I find myself wanting to take her to bed and tear all her clothes off.”

“Huh.”

Kerrass stopped trying to hide the fact that he was out and out laughing.

“Thank you for the…” Syanna paused as she tried to figure out the right word.

“The term is “analysis” Knight Commander.” Ariadne smiled at me.

“Yes, well. Damien.” She turned on the Guard Captain. “What do you think of Freddie’s theory?”

“It’s a good theory.” He said. “But I like what Ariadne said. It’s a far more complicated plan than I would be happy with if I was involved in it. Say what you like about some of the former Knights Errant, but they are far from stupid and you might need to be stupid to start the plan, but to push it as far as this one has already been pushed would take intelligence and education. Those Knights that have both, would know the saying that no plan survives first contact with enemy forces.”

“That makes them more dangerous, not less.” I answered. “Because they will also know the follow up saying which is that once you have made your plan, spend all your time coming up with contingencies for when things, inevitably, start to go wrong.”

“So it’s a complex plan.” Syanna agreed. “I will admit that I agree with Freddie’s assessment. It is a complex plan but I notice that the moment that we are obviously taking it seriously, the very moment that they knew that Lord Frederick and Witcher Kerrass were involved, then the plans became simpler again. Clubbing a woman over the back of the head, staging the scene, killing the woman and then fleeing is much less elaborate than a rooftop, multiple street chase. It is that… adaptation to circumstances that makes me believe in what is happening here. That feels very human to me. From what little I’ve had time to read on Jack, it would occur that he would not care to adapt. He would literally escalate things in order to aggravate us and drive us to mistakes.”

She climbed to her feet and paced a little bit.

“Right. I can see two possibilities. The first is that Lord Frederick is wrong and that this is still Jack. The second is that it is a group of humans and that Freddie’s theory is correct. We need to work both aspects of the case. How do we prove either side?”

“The proof of Jack’s presence or lack thereof is tricky.” I heard myself say. “I am as sure as I can be that he is not here, but if he is, then there is still a pattern here, we’re just not seeing it. How do we prove that he is here?” I shrugged. “I think it will be easier to prove that something else is going on before we can prove that Jack is here in person.”

“We should not ignore that possibility though.” Damien spoke up. “Just because we haven’t found a connection doesn’t mean that there isn’t one.”

“No.” I agreed. “But also, the fact that we haven’t found a connection, doesn’t prove the existence of one. After all,” I gestured at Ariadne, “The simplest solution there is that there isn’t a connection. If there is one, then it is something so obscure and convoluted. Jack would choose a simple connection. If it turned out that Lady de Launfal did turn out to be selective of her… forgive me Guillaume, selective of her partners, then the sample size is small enough that she is more known for the opposite than the other.”

“I can agree with that.” Syanna said. “Kerrass, would you indulge me in that regard? Continue to track down similarities between the two factors and see if you can find a connection?”

“And if I can’t?” Kerrass wondered. “At what stage do we admit that there isn’t one?”

“I don’t know but we haven’t reached that point yet.” Syanna responded. “But before you go. Let’s ruminate Freddie’s theory a bit longer. If that is the case, and we are working against a cabal of merchants, noblemen and Knights Errant, then how do we deal with that?”

“The same way that you break a smuggling ring.” Damien said. “You find that part of the circle that is vulnerable and then you draw it out. You keep drawing it out and then you draw it out a bit more. You keep tugging away at the problem until part of it gives way, the problem here is that if Lord Frederick is correct, then they are already steps ahead of us. We need to break out of their plan.”

“And what is their plan?” She turned to me.

I felt a little as though I had already done my bit of the thinking for the day and rather fancied just having a rest now. It is never fun to have people poke holes in all of your theories. Even while you understand that it is a necessary part of the process.

I took a deep breath and tried to get my brain to start working again. “I think…” I took another breath. “I think that we have to assume that their goal is nothing less than the discrediting of the Knights Francesca in general and the other people in this room.

“They can’t just kill you. They must destroy you first. I think that what happens next is that the people in this room will start to be discredited, attacked personally and professionally.”

“How will they do that?”

“I’m just guessing but I will be discredited as being weak and cowardly for my illness. Kerrass will be attacked for his normal Witcher problems.”

“Freak,” Kerrass said.

“Mutant.” I added.

“They might struggle with that in the long run.” Damien said. “Toussaint has a lot of respect for Lord Geralt and Witchers are well known to us.”

“Ok, then they will find another way and we should consider how else Kerrass is vulnerable. Ariadne can be attacked for her connections to Dettlaff and her vampiric nature. I think you are already aware of yours, and Damien’s weaknesses, Guillaume’s too.”

“What are my weaknesses?” He wondered.

“Your temper.” Syanna, Damien and I answered almost together.

“Your love for your wife.” Ariadne told him after we had finished. “Even though it makes you stronger, in many ways it also leaves you vulnerable.

The poor man’s face reddened.

“I think,” I went on. “that you are going to spend the next few days, or even weeks being provoked.” I said. “I think you will be insulted, your friends will be insulted, your wife will be insulted. All in ways that the insulter could claim to be joking or to not really mean it. You are already vulnerable because of the attack on your wife and the death of your aunt. It is not unreasonable to expect any man to crack and lose his temper under those circumstances.”

He nodded. “Then I shall avoid court where possible and constantly have duties that involve me talking with other people. It is not so far from the truth after all.”

I noticed that he didn’t try and argue that we were being unfair.

“But make sure that you are making note of who is needling you.” I said. “People will be trying to provoke you. Let them, laugh at them, and carefully note who is frustrated when you don’t rise to the bait.”

“From an outsiders perspective, what are our weaknesses?” Syanna asked, gesturing to Damien and herself.

“That’s easy. Each other.”

Syanna did not smirk although I think she wanted to. Her eyes did glitter though.

“You misunderstand.” I told her. “It’s not the romantic feelings that you may or may not hold for each other. But you are the two people that are holding Law and Order together in Toussaint now. You are inseparable, even if you are not a couple. One cannot do the job without the other. For them to beat you, they must separate you. I would expect people to be reminding Damien as to how many men he lost during the night of the Long Fangs.” I turned to him. “You will be reminded over and over and over again as to how that was Syanna’s fault and about how much you should hate her.”

Damien and Syanna looked at each other. It was Syanna who lowered her gaze first.

“So what now?” Damien asked.

“We need to get back to work.” Syanna said firmly.

“We will take this time and tell everyone that we did not have time to have everyone standing in front of a courtroom and answering questions. That there was still work to do and while Freddie was recovering from his… admittedly very convenient, attack… How are we going to explain that by the way? It did happen at an awfully convenient time.”

“I dislike the subterfuge.” Guillaume said. “But I do remember Sir Morgan rather getting in Freddie’s face and yelling at him.”

“Good. then we will use that. Everytime someone gets a little too far in your face Lord Frederick, groan, start to tremble if you can and then we will get them to back off accordingly.”

“Such a ploy is not the sort of thing we can use often.” Ariadne said, frowning slightly. “Nor should we.”

“I agree.” Kerrass spoke up.

“No,” Syanna agreed. “But what it will do is start to pretend that we are weak in the face of the enemy, except for the fact that we are strong.

“So we will tell the court that we took that time to catch up with ourselves and brief each other and that the rest of you would get back to work.”

“They will say…” I began. “They will say that reporting to the court is more important. Can I suggest that the counter is to wonder what is more important, reporting what we know and have found out, or continuing to investigate and hopefully destroy or drive off Jack the next time he chooses a victim.”

“Then they will say that we have plenty of other Knights to call on.” Damien spoke up. “That dance is not unknown to me. I was tracking a smuggling ring once and the nobleman that stood to profit from the scheme summoned me and the guardsman that had found the stash and knew what to look for to find other stashes. So they wanted me to report to the court, plus the guardsman to explain how he had found the stash so that those mistakes could be avoided in the future.”

I thought for a moment. “The response to that is to list all the other crimes that have been committed last night and shame the accuser by daring to suggest that those other deaths are less important than the deaths of Lady de Launfal and Lady Marie. They will counter that by saying that other people had been killed by Jack before that. To which, you respond to say “And where was your moral outrage when Miss Donnet was raped and killed?” They will be shocked so turn that into an attack by describing the horrific injuries and wonder why they didn’t respond when the girl had been found and why they didn’t complain then. After that, you can lose your temper and storm off or something wondering how they can dare to call themselves “Noble”. It’s a late game strategy though.”

Syanna’s smile had been growing as I spoke.

“On the other hand.” I said, “You should wait on actually using that tactic until the last possible moment. We still need to know as much about our enemies as we can and one of the ways that we can do that is to try and watch who is the most vociferous in their attacks against you in the court.”

She nodded.

“Right. And that’s where you come in. You will come under attack for not leaping to the defence of Toussaint when the first death happened, as is expected as part of the requirements of hospitality. My sister and I can instantly leap to your defence and say that we are aware of what was happening there and that you are beyond reproach. It will also work to have you there so that you can be watching for the political plays.”

“Why me?”

“You keep forgetting how much we have all read your existing writings Lord Frederick. We know about your skills as a courtier.”

“Hardly “skills”.” I snorted. “I’m an amateur at best.”

“But Freddie, you have something that a lot of people lack.” Kerrass spoke up from where he was sat, reading from his piece of paper again. “You have played politics where your own life is on the line, you have done this at a level that many of these men and women have not, even if they might be better than you. You walked into the wolf’s den and came out.”

“If you’re talking about Cavill and co then I would point out that we hardly emerged from that unscathed.”

“No, but he was looking for an excuse to kill us officially, you deprived him of that excuse. He had to resort to underhanded methods. I also recall you playing the matters of your Father’s funeral, as well as various other courtrooms of our experience. What I’m talking about is the difference between using your sword in anger in a real fight, versus using your sword on the training field.”

I grunted, a little unhappily.

“In the meantime.” Syanna took my silence as assent. “I want the rest of us to work on the rest of the problem. As I say, Kerrass, I would ask that you continue working the connection to Jack, you are the most experienced detective we have when it comes to supernatural creatures and entities. And you know more about Jack than anyone here except for Freddie.”

“Ok,”

“Madame La Comtesse, is there any way we can figure out who Lady de Launfal went to see last night. I understand that you can declare that she was amorous that night?”

“She was. It’s tricky and I will need some other equipment. The other problem is that I can only compare it to other samples. I can’t take a sample of blood or semen and say, “Ah ha, that belongs to this person.” Names of people are titles given to us by others, not magical constructs after all.”

Syanna looked disappointed. “Is there not a link between a person and their bodily fluids?”

“Yes. While they are inside the body. Once the blood, or the semen, or the sweat or waste products has left the body, it dies. Some faster than others but we’re talking minutes, not hours or days.”

Syanna sighed. “Then forgive me, I’ve never worked with a Vampire on defence and never with a Sorceress. How can you help me?”

“I think that I will aid Kerrass. I am aware of the different theories, I have read Freddie’s work on the subject including the very large first draft that was rejected by his publishers. I am used to looking for order in chaos and I believe that that will be the best use of my time and talents.”

“Done then. Guillaume and Damien? We have five murders to solve now. If there is not a simple connection as Lord Frederick would suggest, then there must be a more complex one. Keep working on the murders. I want to know who it was that Lady de Launfal saw that night. I want to confirm Gregoire’s alibis for the nights in question. I want to follow up on Lord Tratamara’s party. Who else was there, who was it really that assaulted Marie de Tratamara that night. Someone go and dig up Lord Treville and see if he can confirm any part of Lord Tratamara’s story. And when you’ve done all of that… Think of something else to do.”

Guillaume saluted while Damien nodded.

“Colonel Duberton once told me that crimes are not solved by amazing leaps of deductive reasoning like they are in the stories. They are solved by working on it, talking to people and walking the pavement. And also to always be grateful for the stupidity of everyday criminals.”

“That’s true.” Kerrass said. “In my experience, I would add that they are also often solved because you have disproven everything else and the true solution is the only thing left.”

Syanna snorted. “I like that. I shall keep it. Very well Freddie? Are you ready?”

“No,” I forced myself to my feet.

“Good, then try and look pale while we go and face the music.”

“Is there likely to be music?” I wondered.

“Probably not. Unless you count the slow drum beat while we wait to be executed.”

“Cheery.”

We all went about our tasks.

Every so often, I stop writing and take a look back at some of the previous issues of published work. Mostly to remember what I wrote compared to how people remember when they come up to me on the street, in court or at the university. You would be astonished as to how often it comes up that what a person reads in their head, and what I wrote turn out to be two completely different things. But that’s not important right now. The thing that’s important here is this.

I am becoming increasingly wary of hyperbole.

Therefore, I am not going to say that it was the worst afternoon and early evening of my life. It was not. It certainly felt like it at the time but that’s not saying a great deal. The greatest crisis, the darkest day and the most dangerous and deadly battle that we fight is always the most recent one in memory. It would be very easy for me to say that it was the worst afternoon in my life. Or that it was the worst court experience of my life.

But that would be incorrect. However it was pretty bad. And I wasn’t even the target of a lot of it. They came after Syanna from the moment that the two of us went back into the courtroom. I’m not going to go over it all here. This is one of those times where if I did so, then I would still be writing it today and I am sure that it would make for some very dry reading. Instead, I shall give you a brief overview of what happened as well as some small snippets of the various conversations.

As I say, they came after us the very moment that we can through the doors. Demanding to know where we had gone, what we had been doing. I shall give you this example, and as you read this, bear in mind that this was just one of the many times that questions of this kind were asked and even though the questions and comments were made in public and in front of everyone, these people insisted on asking the same questions over and over and over again. All the while, everyone else was listening in.

I checked the official record later and I must admit my gratitude to Lord Julian de Tensair who is the head of court records in Toussaint. His task is to keep the records in case the Duchess needs to refer back to something for legal precedence, or in case some busy body like me turns up and wants to know about obscure details that everyone else has forgotten. Truth be told, Lord Julian was incredibly grateful to see me and as such he just seemed pleased to be involved, even in some small way.

I emphasise that this actually happened. I am not making this up. So when the people in question complain that I am portraying them to be stupid, ignorant or some combination of the three, I will say it for them again. I literally took these snippets of conversation from the Ducal archives. So if they are wrong, then you are accusing the archivist of treason. If you want that fight, then you go for it, but I would suggest that you be careful as I’m not entirely convinced that you will win. And if you fail, then the consequences will be… dire. Attacking so devout and loyal a civil servant would be… catastrophic.

“How dare you Madam.” Yelled a balding man in a yellow robe by the name of Lord Bacque. I could never find out what he was lord of and his name and face were soon lost to my memory in the weight of everyone else that wanted to yell at us.

“How dare you Madam?” He yelled. “You are summoned before this august body to answer for your conduct and neglect in the matter of the pursuit of Jack. And as soon as you get here, you disappear into a side room. Explain yourself Madam.” He demanded.

“No.” Syanna responded.

“How dare you?”

“I don’t answer to you.” She said moving past the man in question.

“You do.” Another man called Lord Leroux, who’s face escapes me for the moment. “You answer to the courts of Beaculair and to it’s Lords and Ladies. In other words, you answer to the people here assembled. I, too, insist to know what gives you the right to swan off when you are summoned to make an account of yourself.”

“As you may have seen.” Syanna eventually admitted. “Lord Frederick was dragged from his sick-bed to lend us his expertise. He suffered a brief relapse and as the person that hauled him out of that bed, I felt that it was my responsibility to see that he returned to it. The Duchess, who does have the ability to summon me, agreed that this might be necessary.”

No matter how many times she said that, or words to that effect, no matter how many times, she was ridiculed and her opinions dismissed before being forced to say exactly the same thing again.

And again

Here is another example of the wonderful diplomacy that was being played in the court of Beauclair that afternoon.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Sir Morgan asked Syanna. “There are many fine, noble and above all experienced Knights here in the court. Men who would have been able to help you with the investigation, set up guard posts and do all the things that need to be done in this kind of instance.”

“I have several responses to that question.” Syanna responded. “First of all, I would disagree with the statement that I need help. My people were doing fine with the investigation as it was going on, we had plenty of leads to pursue, we were following up on things, searching areas and setting up the relative watches. In fact, I would go so far as to say that we were well along with things until we all had to waste our times coming here to answer all these questions.”

“You are impertinent.”

“Good, because I haven’t done being impertinent yet. My tutors said that it was one of the only things that I was good at as a child as the Duchess will attest herself.”

The Duchess did not react to that although Sir Morgan’s face did redden slightly.

“Further to that,” Syanna went on, “and returning to your original question. The Knights Francesca would be glad of any help that might be offered. We have never made a secret of the fact. And our ranks have been swollen by many fine, noble and experienced Knights that wanted to serve Toussaint as we do and as they have done in the past. That offer is still open and if any man, or woman, wants to present themselves at the Chapterhouse of the Knights and present themselves for selection, we would be more than happy to make use of them.

“What I will not allow, is for people to join our efforts for the furthering of their own names, their own purses and the glory of their houses. We serve Toussaint. If you wish to help then we will welcome that help gladly. What I will not do is to allow a return to the ways that proved so catastrophic in previous circumstances.”

You, dear reader, will note the jokes in an effort to keep the tone of the entire confrontation relatively light. You might also note Sir Morgan’s efforts to bring up Syanna’s past in an effort to undermine her.

Now, onto something about me.

“I find that I am surprised by the presence of Lord Frederick.” Sir Raoul spoke up. For the most part, Sir Raoul had been relatively quiet, stood to the side of the courtroom and watched things. He seemed to be enjoying the entire process. As an outsider looking in and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. I would have agreed with him on that count. It was certainly very ridiculous but I would have avoided the slightly mocking sneer that he levelled at us all without prejudice.

Courtly proceedings are always ridiculous. No matter where you go, they are boring, stupid, painfully slow, often unintentionally funny, sometimes mortifyingly embarrassing, terrifying and inane. But here’s the thing. They are also, often, necessary and everyone involved is well aware of this. But these are the rooms that decisions and announcements are made that will change the face of the continent. Such rooms can become addictive if you are not careful and the desire to get back to it can become compelling.

So don’t mock it. Ever. Things will not end well for you.

“I find that I am surprised by the presence of Lord Frederick.” Sir Raoul said into one of the brief lulls in the middle of all the posturing. “Lord Frederick and I have crossed swords, even if one sword was a spear and the exercise was performed for the entertainment of the thing rather than for the blood. This means that I feel a certain… brotherly concern for his well-being. If he is regularly having incidents where he becomes weak and needs to retreat to a place of security and safety, which is entirely understandable. Then how can you justify taking him from such a place?”

“Lord Frederick’s knowledge and experience have been invaluable in dealing with the problem that we have found. As have the experiences of his friend and companion, Witcher Kerrass.” Syanna responded.

Raoul’s smirk and sneer widened. (Yes, it is indeed possible to do both at the same time.) Syanna had made a mistake somewhere.

“I have to wonder…” Sir Raoul went on, drawing the words out with relish. “Why Lord Frederick’s advice was needed at all. Toussaint problems should be dealt with by people of Toussaint. Why are you engaging the aid of an outsider in work that should be done by ourselves. Especially a guest as esteemed as Lord Frederick. And a man as ill as that same. Surely you would have done better to keep him, and his family, safe.”

Syanna took a deep breath. I presumed to calm herself, or at the very least, to pretend to be calming herself.

“Lord Frederick’s knowledge and aid is almost unique in this particular field. There is only one other person who can claim to even approach Lord Frederick’s level of knowledge on the subject and that person is not currently in Toussaint.”

This too was a mistake on Syanna’s part. Not a big one and it’s not the kind of mistake that could easily be avoided.

“Then why was Lord Frederick not consulted immediately.” Lord Tratamara demanded. The poor man was obviously on the edges of guilt and grief associated with exhaustion. That his son had allowed him to come to court at all was a small miracle. “Or rather, why did Lord Frederick not immediately offer his help. My daughter is dead and if you could have prevented it sir…” The tears running down his face were particularly poignant.

I shuddered on cue. “As I said last night sir,” I tried. “I am sorry for our loss. But there were things that were beyond my control and…”

“You bandy excuses.” He sneered, his mood bouncing from grief to rage just as quickly. “But the fact remains that you could have been aiding us sooner and that if you had done so, then my daughter might still be with me. How do you answer for that sir?”

“I am sorry for your…”

“Damn your sorry sir. Damn your sorry. Why did you not…”

“Lord Frederick is beyond reproach in that matter.” It was one of the only times that the Duchess spoke up during the entire situation. “I stand surety for his dispatch and his innocence of any wrongdoing. If you would be angry at him for this matter then be angry at me. My champion will await your pleasure.”

Her voice was cold for a moment before her face, and voice softened. “We share your grief Lord Tratamara and we applaud your presence at these proceedings. But your rage should be aimed at whatever it was that took your daughter away from you. We share that rage, both for your daughter’s sake, for your sake and for the sake of all the other mothers and fathers that have lost someone over the last few days. In seeking something else to throw your rage at, you do both yourself, and Lord Frederick here, a disservice.”

Lord Tratamara was finally led away by his son.

I saw Sir Raoul looking smug at that.

That was an interesting series of exchanges. I remember wanting to blame Sir Raoul there and then. I desperately wanted to think that he might be involved but I was fighting my internal prejudices. I wanted it to be him, therefore I was working really hard to consider alternative suspects.

Speaking of other suspects. There was another suspect that had very little to say on the matter. Sir Gregoire stepped forward, the other courtiers scrambling over each other to get out of his way. He was dressed, armed and armoured, almost exactly the same way as how he had come to the feast all that time ago. It felt like years ago now that there had been a feast to celebrate our arrival in Toussaint. A combination of armour and clothing that suggested that he was caught between two worlds. And for all I know, he was caught between two worlds.

“I have not come here.” He rumbled, sounding a little bored and frustrated, which he probably was. Say what you like about Sir Gregoire, but he didn’t often bother trying to hide what he was thinking.

“I did not come here to make personal attacks on your person Knight Commander.” He began. “Unlike some people that we can mention.” The crowd shivered as his gaze swept over them. “But rather, I came here to ask what you have done to catch the killer. My understanding was that this was why this session of court was called in the first place, not to throw around baseless accusations and insults.”

Syanna waited until he had stopped speaking before answering. “I am not at liberty to answer that question. I will not comment on the particulars of an investigation that is still ongoing.”

He didn’t look particularly surprised.

“How dare you?” Sir Morgan all but screeched it. I might be being unfair about Sir Morgan, but I don’t think so. The more and more that I watched him and listened to him while he worked, the more and more I became convinced that he was the last of a dying breed. I began to think of him as the last of the true Knights Errant. Most had moved on to join with the Knights Francesca. Still more had retired to being landowners, merchants and noblemen. Others had kept the title out of greed or refusal to live any other way. Sir Morgan was still being a Knight Errant because he could not see any other way to live. And with every day that passed, he was having more and more of that taken away from him.

“You have been summoned here to make an account of yourself.” Sir Morgan all but bellowed in Syanna’s face. “The honourable gentleman…” A few voices laughed and I was lucky enough to be looking directly into Sir Gregoire’s face as they did so. His response was really interesting. His eyes hooded for just a moment with some emotion that I could not immediately recognise. Shortly before he turned and started looking for the people that laughed. Needless to say that the laughter vanished almost immediately.

“... asked a perfectly legitimate question. And you will answer. Why measures have you taken to guard against future attacks by this… so called “Jack”.”

“It is a legitimate question.” Syanna agreed. “But I am still not going to answer it.”

“May I ask why not?” Sir Gregoire jumped in with just a colour of being tired of the whole proceedings. There was a fatigue in his voice and his posture that I found eloquent. He seemed resigned and, I thought at the time, a little bit sad.

“It is our policy not to discuss ongoing investigations.” Syanna said.

“Why?”

“I’m not going to answer that either.” Syanna said

Sir Morgan looked as though his head was going to explode.

“I see,” Sir Gregoire rumbled, cutting him off. “It is a matter of confidentiality.”

“That is a good answer.” Syanna said. “I will take that.”

Gregoire nodded and moved towards the back of the crowd.

I thought that that display was interesting which is why I included it here. I was beginning to think that if Gregoire had been born anywhere else on the continent and found himself knighted into the nobility, then he would have been made someone’s guardsman really quickly. He would have been found duties somewhere and would have represented this noble family, or that noble family and he would have ended up being famous and beloved. He would be like a prize fighter, where when this man takes the field, then men chant his name.

But he had been born in Toussaint. And because he was a bastard born as well as his size, shape and lack of refinement in his manners and fighting style, he had been cast as the villain in the ongoing drama that made up the Toussaint jousting circles.

And after so many years of being told that you are the villain, then sooner or later, you are going to begin to believe that you are a villain. Not long after that, then you are going to start acting like a villain.

I felt sorry for him.

He was a man in need of something to do, and no-one wanted to tell him what it was that he needed to do. Probably because they were afraid of the repercussions in case his actions reflected on them.

The subject of discussion turned over to the matter of Jack. Some might say that this change was inevitable, and for all I know, it might be, but at the same time, it was not a pleasant part of things that I was looking forward to. Especially as I had to stay quiet.

There is nothing quite as annoying or frustrating than being a continent wide expert on a subject and then not being able to show off.

But I was well aware that if I started showing off, then there was a good chance that I would not stop and that the secret that we were not actually dealing with Jack would be out of the bag and a lot of the effort would be done for.

“What I would like to know.” Sir Alain drawled. “Is about this Jack situation.” I already knew that he could be a slimy little toad if he put his mind to it, but never have I needed a bath after speaking to a person quite as much as I did in that moment.

“We know that Jack is a formidable opponent. Even allowing for the mistakes that were made by everyone involved, including Lord Frederick and Witcher Kerrass the night of the Fish-Market massacre,” I was dismayed by the murmering agreement that seemed to be meeting that statement. “Even despite this, Jack is known to be a formidable foe. So my first question is this, do you know that this is indeed Jack that we are dealing with, and if it is then why haven’t you asked for more help? Your own little selection of Knights would be hard pressed to deal with such a monster as that.”

He shuddered theatrically.

“As I said before,” Syanna replied. “We are more than happy to accept all the help that is offered. But what we will not accept is half-baked plans and men, or Knights, rushing off to take matters of the law into their own hands. This requires work, Long, hard, boring work.

“As to the other matter that you allude to, we are pursuing all enquiries and speaking to anyone who is known to have seen the assailant or if they have any other information that might be helpful to us. Otherwise, as I said before, we are currently pursuing all possible avenues of investigation.”

But Alain would not let this go. Over and over again, he brought the subject back to the topic of Jack.

“Lord Frederick, you are known to be an expert on these matters, surely you have an opinion on whether or not Jack has returned to terrorise our fair country again. Do you have any thoughts?”

“I have many thoughts.” I told him. “And I have had many theories. These thoughts and theories have been passed to the Knight Commander and I am at her disposal for any reason that she might require me.”

“Very noble I am sure.” He very nearly sneered. “But is it Jack? That is the root of the question, is it not.”

“As I say, I have passed everything that I know over to the Knight Commander.”

“And what is that?”

“What is what?”

He refused to be drawn into the childish traps.

“Lord Frederick,” He sighed as though some long suffering elder talking to a child that is frighteningly stupid. “May I remind you that you are a guest here…”

“I had not forgotten,” I interrupted, perhaps unwisely.

“And as such, you are required to offer all your aid to the realm that is needed.”

“I am.” I grinned at him. Play courtroom lawyer with me will you? Fucko. “However, I am supposed to render all aid to the properly appointed legal authorities. In this case, the proper authorities are the Duchess herself and Knight Commander Syanna of the Knights that have taken my sister’s name. After that, such matters are confidential.”

“Has she ordered you to say nothing?” He demanded, seeking to change the target of his displeasure onto Syanna.

“I have,” She admitted, taking the rage onto herself.

“Also,” I saw an opportunity to go for the tension lessening comment. “I don’t want to give too much away, otherwise, no-one will have any need to buy my book. And my publisher will be furious with me.”

“This is hardly a laughing matter Lord Frederick.”

“I have discovered in my time of travelling with a Witcher that everything is a laughing matter.” I told him. “Especially jumped up little idiots who interfere with the professionals that are trying to do their job, Interfering and interrupting by asking stupid questions over and over and over again. Questions that they know that we aren’t going to answer, but they ask the questions anyway. I have found that you either need to laugh or cry.”

“You mock me sir?” He demanded. I rather thought I could hear a hunger, relish and a sense of triumph behind the outrage in his voice.

“Not at all.” I responded. “If you were listening carefully, I was speaking of hypothetical people that have wound Kerrass and I up in the past. Why? Do you see yourself in the words that I have spoken?”