(A/N: I swear, I PROMISE that there is no reflection of current events in this chapter.)

(Warning:Institutional sexism is evident.)

“They really do love their pageantry don’t they.” Kerrass muttered to me, pulling at his tunic.

“Hush Kerrass.” I hissed at him.

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful to get a formal apology before the entire court…”

“Hush Kerrass,” I repeated.

“It’s just that this posh tunic version of “formal Witcher wear” is uncomfortable, massively impractical and…”

“I said be quiet Kerrass.”

“And,” he repeated. “Off the top of my head, I can think of a couple of dozen things that I would be better off doing.”

I considered this for maybe three heartbeats. “On that we can agree,” I told him. I wasn’t wrong either.

The court had been fully done out. How the heralds and the Master of Ceremonies had managed it on such short notice, it I will never know but they did. They had managed to equip the courtroom with bunting, hangings, and all kinds of things that suggested some matter of celebration.

The Knights and nobles that were standing around all showed the same signs that I exhibited, although I had far less sympathy for them than I did for myself. This on the grounds that I could be confident that they had had considerably more than the two hours of sleep I had managed last night while propped in the corner of the woodskeepers cottage that we had used for our ambush.

But they all had the same bleary, slightly vacant expressions of men, and women, who had had far too little sleep the previous evening and been dragged from their beds at ungodly hours. They looked tired, drawn and worried. As well they might. It’s not often that the head of a state calls a spontaneous, early morning court. It’s the kind of thing that happens when large announcements are made. Things like “An enemy army has just been sighted coming over the Northern border. We are outnumbered at least a hundred to one.” As well as. “It has been discovered that there is treason in our midst. You, you, you and you. Go and collect your families so that we can torture you all to death for treason.”

King Radovid had been particularly fond of that last kind of early morning Courtroom.

The dread is quite simple really. If the head of state has been called out of their bed in order to deal with something then first of all, what could it have possibly been that would have called them from their sleep? And why didn’t we know about it too. There is a feeling of waiting for the literal axe to fall as the Head of state wanders around and calls various people out for generally being shite at their jobs.

It’s a time for big announcements. Big decrees and the kind of thing that can change the course of a nation “Ladies and gentlemen, It behooves upon us to inform you that the King of Doran has called us rude names. Therefore we have no choice but to declare war upon him. I swear this oath before you all that our armed forces shall be mustered, we shall go forth and kill every living being that we find on our way to the capital of Doran while sewing the ground with salt and we shall carve every false insult that the King made into his flesh with the point of a dagger. I charge each and every one of you as well as your sons, your grand sons and every child of your line to carry out this task from now until the end of time or until this task is completed. Now, who’s for cake.”

If you think that such a declaration is far-fetched then I would point you towards the official court documents that contain the discourse where King Radovid declared that he was going to invade Kaedwen, over the mountains, in winter. His declaration was far more flowery than what I suggested and ended in an invitation for tea aboard the royal flagship. Oddly enough, the records state that no-one took him up on his invitation as they all pleaded that they had to go and make preparations.

It was that same atmosphere that was in the courtroom now. Knights were looking at each other, trying to guess as to what was going to happen, who they needed to be righteously angry at and who they could blame for the various problems in case it all went wrong.

I looked for my enemies, or at least, the people that might have been my enemies. I wanted to know if any of them were limping. If any of them were moving slowly or showed signs of having been injured recently. That could tell me a lot.

Sir Gregoire was easily visible. As he always did in courtrooms, he seemed faintly bored but also on edge. As though he was standing guard at something. On edge as though he could be attacked at any point. He was fidgeting and eyeing the exits. I would have agreed with everyone that this behaviour was suspicious except that was exactly the same behaviour that he had shown every other time that he was at court.

Something new did happen this time though. As I watched him, his eyes swivelled and he looked straight at me. I got the feeling that it was not a new thing and that he had been looking at me before. He was not well-trained enough to be able to hide what he was thinking, nor what he was feeling. An expression of all consuming rage and hatred crossed his face. He grimaced with it as he visibly fought down the naked desire to take hold of me with his huge hands and set about removing my body parts. The hatred was so palpable that I could feel it, almost like a slap in the face. As I say, he visibly fought that feeling down and what was left was this look of utter dejection, misery and something that I couldn’t quite identify.

He looked away first, not me. That alone was telling.

Sir Raoul Le Blanc was here. He was, as was his custom in this kind of thing, standing off to one side, watching the proceedings with a faint but mocking smile. He wasn’t looking at me, or Kerrass or Guillaume that stood on the other side of Kerrass. He was watching the rest of the courtroom in the same way that a cat watches a flock of birds.

Or in the same way that a cunning fox might watch the pack that hadn’t noticed him yet. I couldn’t decide which of the two he was. He was either watching his prey or he was watching for the first time that a predator would swoop towards him. I tried to see if I could tell what he was uneasy about, before I dismissed him from my mind. He would not change his attitude and as it had before, my personal dislike of the man meant that it was clouding my judgement. I wanted him to be uneasy. I wanted him to be afraid. Confirmation bias was a thing and I didn’t want to give into it.

Sir Morgan was a central figure of the courtiers that Raoul was watching carefully, accompanied by his wife. There were a few of them there, milling around, gossiping and talking with each other. Either Sir Morgan was genuinely confused by the entire affair or he was a better actor than I gave him credit for. His wife was watching everything like a hawk. She didn’t say anything while I watched, nor did she seem to talk to anyone. She just watched. I found myself wondering if she was involved in the conspiracy in some way. It is a standard trick of a certain kind of courtier. To wander around in silence but with your ears open. It’s also very easy to do if you are in a male dominated courtroom and the vast majority of people there are men. It meanest that as a lady, you get dismissed.

In one of her letters to me, Francesca had told me that it was quite funny when you were in the middle of things. She had been able to pass on numerous secrets to the Empress elect at the time. The crowning glory was that a particular Lord who liked to make a fuss of his masculinity and his womanising ways had been seen in the romantic company of his very male valet. And that the valet had been the dominant partner in the situation.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But the man had, apparently, made a big fuss of things and about the weakness of women given his “many conquests” as an explanation as to why Ciri should not be Empress. The Emperor had been away and as such, you could get away with saying such things without penalty. Ciri had smiled sweetly and informed the man that she had heard much about his preference for all things male and he shut up forthwith. Only for Ciri, Francesca and some of the other women to spend a lot of time giggling about it later.

I wondered what secrets Sir Morgan’s wife was picking up in the middle of all this carrying on. I wondered if she had plenty of other secrets and whether or not it would be worthwhile to pick her brains of all the things that she may, or may not know.

Sir Alain was part of that gaggle. The make up of the group was quite fascinating really. All older men and by older I mean somewhere north of thirty odd. Hair just turning towards silver but still comfortable looking in their armour. They were men who had passed their physical prime but could still be expected to put up a showing at the practice fields or in the jousts. Men who would take on small numbers of bandits and runaway bears rather than the larger insectoids or bandit gangs.

I had run across the group when I had first arrived in Toussaint. They mostly seemed to want to pass the time telling stories about their exploits of the past as well as talking down the accomplishments of the more modern generation of Knights. They were the kind of men who tell you what you should have done, long after the events in question. Where they tell you that they would have smashed the troll in the face with their gauntleted fist, before rescuing the maiden to take their proper, and well deserved, reward back in the inn.

That kind of thing.

I had long ago recognised this type of person and knew that the correct way to deal with it is to nod, smile, laugh in all the right places while privately amusing yourself at the utter ridiculousness of the situation in question. All of the world has these kinds of men. Courtiers, Craftsmen, Knights, Scholars, you name it. There is always a group of people who will stand around and tell you, in detail, why everything that you are doing is wrong, how you should do it, how they would have done it in your place and how the world was so much better back in their day.

Sir Alain was part of this group. He was bearing up well all things considered. According to our information he had been complaining about Toussaint arresting the wrong man in the matter of his wife’s death for hours at a time. He had been complaining to the courtroom, the guards and trying to find someone, anyone who might be able to release the Witcher to his own authority. And to date, we couldn’t figure out why.

He was guilty. We could do everything but prove it definitively. He had the motive for wanting his wife dead, the Lady Vasseur dead and a return to the old style of Toussaint Knighthood. He had the raw ability to be one of the Jack’s that witnesses had described.

So why had he been so determined to prove Kerrass’ innocence.

But that wasn’t what he had been doing was it. What he had been doing was to demand that Kerrass had been released. If it had been the innocence that he believed in, he would have set out to prove it properly. But that’s not what he had done was it. He had spent his time demanding…

My line of thought was thoroughly interrupted by the fanfare that jolted me from my reverie and back into the current timings.

Colonel Duberton of the guard had slipped into the back of the room at some point and was watching things carefully.

Along with everything else that takes place in a courtroom, there is also a science to the fanfare as well. How long it is, how grand it was, what it was playing and what it was played on. Was it a series of war horns or war cries. Was it a cavalry horn or a hunting horn. How elaborate was it as well.

This one was short, sharp, to the point and steady. This was a business style announcement, no frivolity. There were announcements to be made and things that were going to be declared.

I knew what was coming of course, but it was interesting to watch how everyone else reacted.

The fanfare had barely died down when the doors at the end of the room opened and the Duchess walked in. She was accompanied by Syanna and her personal secretary who immediately veered off to stand out of the way and out of sight, as was his habit.

Watch these people. The men, and women, that know exactly how to fade into the background at any given moment. They are terrifying.

The herald began to announce the Duchess but she had already reached the throne by the time that the herald was half way through her titles. Unlike the rest of us, the Duchess looked well rested and calm. She was continuing with her new found aesthetic of plain, simple dresses with minimal makeup, jewellery and hair-stylings and as I’ve said before, to my eyes, she is much more beautiful with it. This time there was a pair of brown riding trousers underneath the skirts and a tall pair of riding boots that looked a little scuffed. Immaculately clean of course but scuffed nonetheless.

Syanna was dressed in her “Commander armour.” She had disappeared a while ago so that she could get properly dressed for the matter of what was about to happen.

The Duchess waved the Herald to silence. “Yes, yes. I am sure that my lords and ladies are well aware as to who I am.”

There was some scattered laughter. The image of mice watching a hunting cat just wouldn’t leave my mind. When it comes to court situations and when you are playing on the level of people like the Duchess, then nothing is an accident. Her tone of voice, what she looked like and the way she spoke was all carefully prepared and trained. It was all a statement and she was telling the court what she was thinking, even as she spoke.

The message was that she was pleased, but angry. There were things going on that she wasn’t happy about and she was in the process of dealing with this matter.

“I will get straight to the point.” The Duchess declared, “as after this business is concluded, there are many other things that demand our immediate attention.”

There was some further murmuring.

“First it is our sad duty to inform the court that Count Vasseur was found dead at his home late yesterday.”

The news hit the court like a shower of cold water. My eyes flickered from face to face to see if anyone was surprised, who was not surprised and so on. I didn’t get definitive results but I had found in the past that such impressions would come to the fore when I wasn’t thinking about them later.

“Although,” the Duchess wasn’t done speaking, “his later life was consumed by scandal, we wish it to be known that there are few men within the land of Toussaint that did more for the Duchy than Count Vasseur did. Even as he died, he was trying to defend Toussaint and its people and it is like this that I would have him be remembered. Before everything happened that later led to scandal and disgrace, he was a good friend to me when many had either been sent away or killed by my late, unlamented husband.” She nodded to Syanna. “Or that those friends displayed their true colours to me when their cowardice and thirst for power forced them to set our friendships aside. It is just a shame that this sentiment was taken advantage of by other, lesser men.”

More than one man in the crowd was less than entirely pleased by this. Including Sir Morgan although I noticed that both Sir Raoul and Sir Gregoire were nodding in agreement with the words.

As Ariadne would say, “Fascinating.”

“As a result of his untimely passing and due to the manner of his passing, I feel it important to ensure the safety of his daughter. Both for services rendered in the past and services rendered to the Duchy, even as he lived on in exile. As such, I have decided to adopt his daughter, Lady Caroline, into my family as my adopted daughter.”

That was a shock to the room. There had been a lot of discussion as to whether or not this should have been kept secret. Whether it was potentially dangerous to the young Countess to point out that she had been adopted and that she was a new heir apparent to the Ducal throne. In the end, it had been decided that the point was moot. Our enemies would already know that the girl was still alive. They would therefore assume that we knew everything that she had known and following on from that, what did it benefit her, or anyone, to keep her identity secret.

I was not entirely certain that it was the best choice, but another truth about politics is that sometimes, these things move so fast that you don’t have time to question things. You make the choices that you make and then you live with the consequences. As in war, hesitation is death.

I was watching Alain. As I had privately predicted, he didn’t show any more or less surprise than any of the other men in the room. My judgement was that he was surprised by the adoption but not by the rest of it.

“What does that mean about the succession of the throne?” Someone asked. I didn’t recognise the voice or have time to see who it was. The questioner spoke from the safety of the crowd that was clustered around Sir Morgan.

“I refer the question to the Lord Herald who is master of such things.” The Duchess replied.

The man stepped forward. When we had been discussing the format of this brief courtroom, we had predicted the question and the herald had been properly prepared. “As an adopted daughter, the Countess Vasseur…”

“She has had her Father’s title confirmed then?” Somebody shouted.

The herald frowned. “Yes. As the only surviving heir of the Count’s blood. All his lands, if any, wealth, likewise and titles will be passed on to her. But as I was saying, as an adopted daughter. Then Countess Vasseur would only inherit the ducal crown if no other heirs of the blood were present. As of this time, the only acknowledged member of the Ducal family other than the Duchess herself, would be Knight Commander Syanna.”

The court shifted a little unhappily.

“Therefore,” The herald ignored them. “If anything were to happen to the Duchess, long may she reign, then Knight Commander Syanna would inherit the throne before Countess Vasseur.”

The court seemed to take all of that in their stride.

“Where is the lady now?” Someone shouted. There was a scent in the room. As though the hunting pack has smelled fresh blood. An unmarried noblewoman that will come with a title and potentially the ducal throne. Where is she so that we can begin to seduce her.

I was watching Alain again. His face was sour as though he had just bitten into a slice of lemon. He could talk about what had happened between himself and the Countess, but her elevation would paint him in a bad, nay, dishonourable light and he would do his best to avoid that. He would keep quiet and do his best to re-apply his charm to the girl when he got the chance.

“Unfortunately,” The Duchess made her face sad. “The Late Count’s affairs meant that he was unable to see to Countess’ Vasseur’s proper education. As such, I am taking the matter in hand with a view that, in the long run, she will spend some time in the Imperial Court serving as one of the Empress’ ladies. There are other reasons that we are keeping her presence and location a secret for now.”

The court was expectant and leaned forward.

“Last night. Acting on intelligence provided by Lord Frederick von Coulthard of Redania, Sir Guillaume de Launfal was made aware of the fact that “Jack” would be attempting to slay Countess Vasseur.”

The court erupted. Not all of it was nice or pleasant when it was directed towards me. More than one person, including Sir Morgan, wanted to point out that I would have provided any kind of lies in order to ensure the survival of my friend. The man who had “correctly” been arrested and locked up pending trial and execution for his part in the Jack killings.

The Duchess signaled and the Herald roared for silence. For a relatively slight man, he has some lungs on him.

“Not only,” The Duchess called over the hubbub as the noise began to die down. “Did Sir Guillaume martial the Knights of Saint Francesca to the defence, but he crossed swords with Jack and ensured…”

The rest of the court erupted into uproar.

There were many cries of “Impossible,” and “Ludicrous”. The only two people that kept silent were Sir Gregoire who was watching Guillaume appraisingly along with Colonel Duberton who could clearly not give a damn.

“Impossible.” Sir Morgan stepped to the fore. “Jack is a supernatural entity. Lord Frederick himself made us all aware of these things with his writings on the subject. Jack cut his way through the very cream of the Knights Errant the last time he was in Toussaint and to suggest that a single Knight, no matter how skilled as Sir Guillaume undoubtedly is, could not have possibly stood up to such a creature.”

“We know two things sir.” The Duchess informed him. “We know that “Jack” has killed a woman every night for several days. We also know that no other death happened last night, we were watching carefully. We also know that the man, yes I say again, the man that Sir Guillaume fought last night was simply that. A man. A man dressed in a costume that he hoped would strike fear into the hearts of the people that he was attacking. Guillaume wounded this man, drove him off and protected his charge so that she emerged unscathed. The blood that stuck to Sir Guillaume’s blade was tested by Lady Vigo, working with the Comtesse de Angral and it can be confirmed that the man Sir Guillaume was definitely, a man.”

“Where is this man now?” Morgan demanded. “If Sir Guillaume was able to do this thing, and I agree, there are few men that would stand up to Sir Guillaume’s sword when it came down to it. Then why isn’t this “Jack” in custody? If Sir Guillaume was acting in concert with the other Knights of the Saint, then why wasn’t there a cordon, a guard set. Why wasn’t Jack trapped and here before us to answer for his crimes?”

“He escaped.” Syanna said simply.

“Escaped?” Sir Morgan exclaimed. “Escaped.” He sneered. “Yet more proof of the incompetence of the Knights of Saint Francesca.”

“The cordon was deliberately loose.” Syanna argued. “This is because we knew that Jack was going to attack the Countess, but we also knew that Jack was clever and would scout out the location. Therefore if he saw too much then he would flee and simply kill any passing girl to maintain the charade of his existence as Jack.”

“More excuses.” Morgan sneered before waving his finger towards the Duchess. “Once again we see where this pet project of yours is leading us. Rank incompetence when any fool could have ensured the capture of one man.”

The courtroom went back into an uproar. Sir Morgan was shouting and did so until silence descended. “I see only two alternatives.” He declared. “The first is that this is simply a lie. The Duchess is lying to us in order to calm us. Jack is very real and a very real threat. This tale of the exploits of Saint Francesca is just meant to prevent panic. But that does not stop it being a lie. Naturally, as the Duchess is an honourable, if misguided, lady, I refuse to believe this is the case. She would not lie to her loyal subjects.

“Or, the Knights of Saint Francesca are so incompetant that they cannot even rise to capturing a single murderer. Despite their patrols, their training and their new ways of thinking. A single murderer has eluded them for all of this time. It is preposterous that such things be allowed to continue. I demand that the order of the Knights Errant be returned to it’s former…”

More shouting.

Guillaume was angry. I even think he might have attacked someone if he could have gotten away with it but the Duchess had expressed views on the matter. Guillaume could cut his way through these people but all that would do would be to leave lots of potential informants, if not suspects, dead and bleeding. We needed the information.

“That is not going to happen.” The Duchess snapped. “For several reasons. The first and most important reason is that those orders that disbanded the Knights Errant were given by the Empress. If we try to counter her orders then we will be declared in rebellion.”

“Pshaw. We are an independent nation and we don’t need to obey the rules of…” One man shouted

“If they come, our Knights would see them off. We are the far superior…” Another man called.

Kerrass sniggered at the thought.

Morgan said nothing to all of this.

“Further to this,” The Duchess went on. “The reason that the cordon was so loose was under my orders and at the protestations of Commander Syanna. Our first priority was the safety of Countess Vasseur and as such…”

“And so…” Morgan shouted. “We see the final truth of the matter. It was the weakness of women that means that the killer is still on the loose.”

Far too many people in the court nodded their agreements.

“A properly decisive Duke would have set a proper trap. Or he would have followed the advice of his subordinates when they made a proper recommendation. This is not the first time that your feminine, emotional weakness has brought Toussaint to the brink of ruin. Your own emotions meant that Syanna was not allowed to go to the Vampire which would have prevented all the deaths on the Night of Long Fangs. And now your weakness rears its head yet again allowing this killer to escape. Why was Lady Vigo not there to catch him? Or for that matter, the learned guests that I hear so much about. Why were there not more men? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You will not have answers that I can believe anyway.”

“Have a care.” Guillaume snarled. Apparently no longer able to contain himself.

“I tell you this Duchess.” Sir Morgan went on. “I demand that you replace your sister with a proper, fully trained Knight who will make the proper decisions. Furthermore I demand that you appoint a regent to make decisions for you as it is clear that you are unable to make such choices for yourself due to your feminine emotional fragility and weakness. The regent will find you a proper husband so that our lives, livelihoods and the very way of life can be preserved and so that you can provide us with a proper heir rather than some disgraced sibling and some girl who is both not of the ducal line and a whore who sells her body for suitable social advancement.

“WILL YOU DO THESE THINGS?” He demanded over the rising noise.

“I will not.” The Duchess snarled. “THe throne is mine by right and by blood. I am appointed by the Saints and the Prophets, acclaimed by the Empress and her father before him. I am the Duchess and you owe me your allegiance sir or will you break your oaths?”

Morgan stiffened. “I will not.” He said stiffly. “However, I made other oaths that I am equally reluctant to break. I am a Knight of the realm. A Knight Errant and it is my right, and my duty to defend the people of Toussaint as I see fit. My people and I will hunt down this Jack figure, be he human or otherwise for I am far from convinced as to his nature. I am able to do this by ancient law and even you, or that Empress of yours cannot counter that.”

The Duchess said nothing.

“Furthermore.” Morgan crowed. “Interfering with our people doing our duty is against the law and we have every right to defend ourselves from any that might seek to prevent us from carrying out this duty. Your Knights of Francesca be damned.”

“Unless you break the law too.” Guillaume growled. “Your duty does not protect you from Justice.”

“Pshaw.” Morgan waved the objection off. “I go now to see to the protection of the people of Toussaint, in spite of the rulership of Toussaint. And all will know who really has the best interests of the people of Toussaint at heart. Who is with me?”

A dismaying number of people left with him. Including Alain I noticed.

I was thinking furiously. The comment about Countess Vasseur being a whore had hit close to the mark. Interesting politics. She could easily be proven not to be a virgin which would lessen her claim. But it also reduced her importance in the eyes of the conspiracy. There was something there although I couldn’t quite see it there and then. I wanted to paint Morgan with the brush of being a conspirator. But that comment caught me off guard.

Wait, he had known of what was happening. How? That information was hours old.

I didn’t have time to discuss it or think too hard about it though. There were still some people left behind in the courtroom. Gregoire hadn’t moved, his own expression moving towards curiosity rather than the previous disinterest. I hadn’t managed to see which statement it was that triggered his curiosity but there was no mistaking the fact that it was there.

Sir Raoul was also still there. He had the slightly narrowed eyes of a man that was paying close attention to what was happening, despite his outward appearance of appearing disinterested and bored. He was still deciding which way to jump.

Colonel Duberton didn’t bother even trying to hide his disdain for those men that had left. My latent liking of the man increased a little and I resolved, once again, to do my best to get to know the man and his wife after all of this nonsense was over with.

“In the meantime,” An obviously still angry Duchess went on. “If people are done posturing, carrying on and measuring their own genitals. Then the court still has business.”

You could easily tell who the Duchess’ allies were by the people that laughed at her joke. It was not a good joke as all things were considered. A little too crude for it to land properly in a courtroom.

“First of all, Sir Guillaume.”

Guillaume was also, just as obviously, furious with everything that had happened but he did his part. He moved forward and saluted the Duchess.

“Know that you have our thanks. We are well aware from previous bitter experience that it is impossible to reward a Knight of your skill, standing and experience. You will say something flowery like “the service of the Duchy is reward enough.”

It was a valiant effort to lighten the feel of the court, it was even coming closer to working as well.

“And it would be true, Your Grace.” Guillaume said. “If the realm requires my death then I would give it that death gladly, but I would much rather go on to serve the realm that much more and to live to have children and to see that those self-same children would be able to serve the Duchy as well.”

There were several murmurs of agreement to that which were amplified when it became clear that the Duchess was quite happy to allow the murmuring to carry on unabated.

“Then you have our thanks.” She said eventually. “You will have to allow us to give you that at least.”

“For that, I am grateful Your Grace.” He saluted again and backed off to retake his former place.

He played his part well. Far better than I would have. His wife, Lady de Launfal de Tabris was furious and hurt that the Duchess had accused her husband of cowardice the previous evening. Whenthe Duchess was trying to shame him into fighting a duel with Sir Alain. As a result according to Guillaume, the relationship between the two women had been strained. The Duchess was aware that she was in the wrong, but then again, she is the Duchess and gets to talk about these kinds of things in any way that she sees fit. So it seemed that the situation would only resolve itself when one or other neck would bend.

Sir Guillaume was torn. He was well aware that his wife was upset, but duty was duty was duty to him. His opinion on the matter was that there would come a time in a few days after the conspiracy had been unravelled where the two women would just burst into tears and collapse into each other’s arms and sob for a while. The pair had been through too much for too long to allow this to turn into a long term problem.

Having said that, the Duchess had upset his wife. Guillaume is the kind of man who will accept insult and indignity piled upon his own head, but the instant that you attack his friends, let alone his wife, then his fury becomes total and unmatched.

He was struggling to balance the two at the moment. The love for his wife, and his duty to the Duchy and the Duchess.

“Master-Witcher Kerrass.” The Duchess called.

Kerrass stepped forward and as he did so, he assumed such a look of indifference that it was almost a caricature of the bored and disinterested Witcher that it was almost funny.

“Witcher Kerrass. Given that the crime for which you were arrested could not possibly have been committed by yourself. This given the fact that you were literally imprisoned when the most recent attacks took place, it is my pleasure to release you and to wish you well. I apologise on behalf of the Duchy for the indignities that you have been put through and ask that you find it within yourself to forgive, and understand, the reasons for our decisions.”

Kerrass bowed in a way that made me proud.

“I taught him that,” I whispered to Guillaume who coughed.

“Your Grace.” Kerrass spoke in the Witchers drawl that he, and others, use so well. “Believe me when I say that I understand fully why you and your servants came to the conclusion that you did. It was not the first time, nor will it be the last time that people find a suspect in the form of a Witcher. And I might also add that I have been kept in far worse dungeons and treated with much less grace, courtesy and…. Hospitality while I have been incarcerated.”

The Duchess smiled at the joke which gave the rest of the court permission to laugh.

“I thank you for your kind words Master Kerrass. Know that you too have our gratitude and we can but declare your innocence here and now for all to hear and see. Might we also beg a boon?”

Kerrass’ mouth twitched. He knew, as well as he would have known if I had been standing in his ear and telling him what to say, that he had little choice but to agree to perform the duty that had been asked of him.

“If it is within my power to grant,” he began with another bow. “Then Your Grace has only to ask.”

“Then I would ask that you rejoin the efforts to capture the man masquerading as Jack. He is no monster, but your skills and experience would only aid those who are already involved in the hunt.”

“I would be glad to Your Grace. Although I would point out that Monster is as Monster does.” The court murmured at that. “I have seen the results of Vampire attacks, Rabid Troll attacks and the attacks of Cyclops. I have seen the victims of Kikkimores, Centipedes, Endregas, Arachase and Echinopsae. I have also found the remains left behind by the attacks of Fork-tails, Wyverns, Cockatrice and Slyzards. Many of whom kill because it is in their nature, because they need the sustenance or because the humans, Elves or Dwarves have encroached on the creature's territory. These attacks and what “Jack”... I use the term even though the killer is provably not that entity, even he is not that cruel…. But these attacks can be counted amongst the worst that I have seen. Including those men and women that were actually victims of the real Jack.

“I am well aware that Your Grace and Toussaint as a whole must have it’s Justice. But I would not hesitate in calling this… thing a monster and I would gladly take a contract to help bring him to justice. I am not asking for money here. This slime of a person killed someone that I cared deeply about. A good friend. And they too deserve Justice. I would be a part of that.”

What remained of the court applauded Kerrass’ words and he stood back.

“Lord Frederick.” The Duchess called. “I would also thank you for your service yesterday and last night when you had every reason to be angry with us. You disregarded that and still came to the defence of the realm. We have no adequate way of extending our thanks but you should know that they are truly meant, truly given and that we will find a way to express them in the future.”

“Thank you Your Grace.” I said.

“In which case Ladies and Gentlemen. I have a state to govern. Commander Syanna?”

“Your Grace?”

“As well as charging you with catching Jack, I must also charge you with protecting the realm from over zealous Knights and their servants. You have the right to defend yourself from direct attack, as well as defending others. I would remind you, and remind those still listening, that you and your Knights are the authority in Toussaint now. If those others do find anything. Then they should bring it to you and trust that you will take care of it. If any of them take the law into their own hands, you are to react accordingly. Knights can and must be Knightly. I remember no part of chivalry that suggests they can be vigilantes.”

“Yes Your Grace.” The Commander responded. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the undeniable glee that was at the back of the way she spoke.

And with that, the Duchess just left. Not doing anything flashy with it, she just left. Syanna beckoned us on and we left out one of the side rooms where, as soon as we were out of sight, Guillaume clapped Kerrass on the shoulder.

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“Well said,” He declared in a proud and happy voice. “Honestly, I don’t think I could have said it better myself.”

“Oh you could.” Kerrass grinned. He was doing that a lot since he had been released from his cell. “Especially if you had had the speech written for you by Freddie.”

“What?” Guillaume was astonished.

“Always hire a professional.” Kerrass told him. “Always. If you want a battle fought, go get a mercenary. If you need a duel fought, or need someone to defend your honour. You get a Knight. For spiritual guidance go to the priest of your own choice, for monsters, go to a Witcher. But if you find that you have to make a speech in front of important people, take a courtier. In this case, Freddie here.”

“What was that about people defending my honour?” I said. “Kerrass you know how I feel about being called a courtier.”

“Yes I do.” He said. “I also know how much you like playing the victim and generally carrying on like a little bitch.”

“Are you sure that you are marrying Ariadne Freddie?” Syanna wondered. “The way you two carry on, you behave like an old married couple.”

“Or siblings.” Guillaume added. “I’ve known some happy old married couples that get on really well.”

Kerrass made a face.

“The truth is that they were not entirely my words.” I told them all. “A lot of it is cribbed from one of Lord Dandelion’s plays. It’s a quick template that can easily be adapted depending on the circumstances in which you find yourself.”

“You should write a book on such courtly matters.” Syanna declared, opening the door to a side room and gesturing us all inside. “I will be one of your first customers as I insist that all my Knights read it and learn it. Teaching people how to behave in court is still something that I struggle with and I was brought up to it.”

“My understanding was that you were terrible at it then too.” I pointed out.

“I was, back then I was rebelling. Now, I just find that I don’t care that much.”

Captain de la Tour was waiting inside the room and he leapt to his feet. “Kerrass. Good to see you out and about.”

“Captain.” They shook hands.

“No hard feeling?” Damien wondered.

“None. You were doing your jobs. All of you.” He took us all in with that sweep of his eyes. “And I am grateful for the efforts to prove my innocence.”

He had been saying things like that since the early hours of the morning when we had let him out. He had a strange attitude about that. It was as though he was relieved but also surprised that he was relieved. I talked to him about it later and he told me that it was an odd sensation. He claimed that he had never really been concerned for his life. That he knew he was innocent and that he would eventually be proven as such on the grounds that the plot would not stop just because he was in prison.

But when we arrived to tell him that he was free, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders which had left him feeling almost giddy and light-headed.

“Right,” Syanna said, pouring herself a cup of the strong coffee that seemed to be following us around everywhere. I had joked earlier that my veins were more filled with coffee now than they were filled with blood. Syanna had smiled at me and told me that it was a feeling that you get used to.

“Yeah,” I had said, “When is that exactly?”

She didn’t have a satisfactory answer. More and more, I was coming to realise that the crash that was increasingly inevitable when all of this was over, was going to be huge.

“Before we start.” Syanna said. “Damien. Make me a happy lady and tell me that Morgan did something really incriminating regarding giving away the fact that he’s involved with Jack when he got out of the castle.”

“Alas no.” Damien was somewhat behind the mood of exhausted playfulness. “He and his fellows called for their retainers and headed into town. There is some uproar and I have people watching the situation carefully. But I doubt it’s him.”

“More’s the pity.” Syanna collapsed, more than sat, into a nearby arm-chair. “So what the fuck do we do now?

“Hold on.” Damien said. “First, I want to hear Kerrass’ side of the story. I know he didn’t do it, but what did happen?”

“Is it really that important?” Syanna wondered.

“It might be.” Damien snapped, if without energy. “And I might see something you missed, oh illustrious leader.”

The fact that Syanna didn’t rise to that, spoke as to how tired she was. Instead, she kind of waved her hands absently.

Kerrass sighed as he poured himself a coffee. Not that he needed it, Witcher metabolism is sometimes good for something, but he liked the taste, even if he did put enough honey in his coffee to make Ariadne wince when she saw him do it.

“The flirting between us wasn’t a pretense.” He began sadly, settling himself into a comfortable chair.

(Freddie’s note: What follows is an amalgamation of Kerrass’ account. I actually heard this story several times. Once in private over a dinner with friends, another one here with Damien de La Tour and the rest. And again, in much less detail with Guillaume and Syanna when we got him out of prison. There is actually a school of thought that this kind of repetition is a good thing. Because it means that the truth is in the details that all accounts share while the lies come out in those details unique to one or other account. But still, I had reason to believe Kerrass that was not just limited to long term trust and as such, this amalgamation is what I am going with)

The flirting between us wasn’t a pretense. I mean, you all saw her, she was beautiful, charming, clever and oh so very bored. She was… Ariadne would call it “depressed”. She longed to feel something, to feel valued or to feel as though her life had meaning.

I feel as though I’m getting ahead of the story here and I can all but feel Freddie’s Disapproving gaze. I can feel it in the back of my neck, even if he is in front of me, like a hot ray of sunshine that has been focused through some kind of lens.

I first noticed Lady Moineau as I knew her then at the welcoming dinner. There were lots of people there, but I saw her first then, long before I noticed her husband who was eyeing at every pretty girl that passed him by. When I did notice him properly, I could visibly see him drooling over Ariadne and Laurelen. Not that he would have complained about a roll in the hay with Emma you understand. But both of the Sorceresses that we were with had the youthful slant to their facial features that seemed to attract his eye.

That is a thing that I have noticed about Toussaint women and standards of attractiveness and I wonder if that is why you have all taken Francesca to your heart quite as powerfully as you have. You like your men-folk to be older, seasoned, worn and with a bit of grey in their hair, whereas you prefer your noble-women to be young, innocent and demure. That is not unusual in the world as a whole but it is remarkably underlined when it comes to Toussaint in particular.

I also notice, with some amusement and a little disgust, that the image of peasant beauty is far more wanton and bawdy. Lots more flesh on the bone and on display. Low cut blouses and high cut skirts, tempting passing Knights and noblemen with a devilish stare and a protruding leg.

I find this odd given that the Duchess herself is far from entirely young any more and I rather thought that this would mean that modern beauty standards would have moved in line with where the Duchess herself was in her life. Leading to it being a bit more fashionable for ladies to be a bit older and mature in their looks, behaviours and charms.

Again, I can feel Freddie’s displeasure burning into my soul like a solid force.

But it was this difference that drew my attention to Amelie, Lady Moineau as was.

She was standing with her husband. That first welcoming dinner was an informal affair. A fact which I knew that the visiting Northerners found hilariously funny given that there were more than fifty people in attendance. But even so, Alain and his wife were mingling fairly nicely, allowing Alain to leer at every attractive girl in the place, spank the bottoms of the odd passing serving girl, some of whom were outraged, others were amused, even a few that were left hopeful, but his presence in the middle of things meant that they were firmly part of the party.

The movement that caught my eye was when she left her husband’s side for a moment. I don’t know why but I can guess. She was bored, insulted with the fact that her husband’s eyes were on every other pair of tits in the room other than her own, not unattractive, examples and she was using the age old excuse of women all over the continent of feeling a little faint and needing some air.

I first felt the dislike of Alain stealing over me when he absolutely failed to go with his wife in order to ensure that she was alright. Even uncouth Northern Barbarians know to do that. Skelligans do that. Mostly because they realise that it is also a ruse for the wife to get the husband alone for a while. Sometimes to impart some piece of information that the husband might not be aware of, or other times so that the lady in question can have her way with her husband behind a bush or a plant pot. A Skelligan man is well aware of his place in these kinds of things.

(“I shall have to visit one day.” Syanna commented.)

But Alain stayed in the room and spent the intervening time trying to get close to the Duchess. Calling his behaviour disgusting is a little bit of an understatement and the fact that he was so obviously leering at Ariadne while seemingly, reflexively, dismissing Freddie meant that I was prepared to head him off. Freddie was still rather ill at the time and I felt it important that I be there and ready in case Freddie, in his weakened state, made some form of mistake that would lead to violence.

What that meant in practical terms was that I saw it when Amelie re-entered the room. She looked around for her husband before, not being stupid, she realised what he was doing and winced. She commandeered a servant and found herself a large glass of wine and set about doing her best to get drunk.

Her look of scorn, levelled at her husband was so amusing to me that I only narrowly avoided laughing. Judging that Ariadne had her betrothed well in hand, I took a bottle of something that looked expensive and went to offer the lady a drink.

I truly do not know what came over me. As I spoke she looked up at me with this kind of appraising expression until her eyes rose to my own and she realised who and what I was. Her interest turned thoughtful before a look of desire came into her eyes. It was not the standard kind of desire that I am familiar with. The lust of a woman that wants to dance in the darkness a little, to try out the alien and the remarkable without consequence. The knowledge of a certain kind of girl that knows that they can finally have their way with a man that is going to move on and therefore not be a hindrance, but more a passing fancy.

This was a different kind of thing. This was the look of a woman that wanted something a little more. There was lust in that look but also a desperate kind of longing that seemed, to me at least, to go past the urge of a certain kind of person, not unlike Alain, who believes that his worth is measured by how many notches he has on his bed post.

It was the longing of a truly lonely soul and looking back, it was this that snared me.

She was beautiful, of course she was beautiful. You only had to look at her. But that beauty had another edge that drew my eye. In that it was a slightly more mature beauty. Do not get me wrong, there is a lot of joy to be found in the arms of the young, energetic and innocent, but for me, I like my lovers to be a little older. It might be a measurement of my own age, but I truly do not know. Also knowingly odd given that it is apparent that the woman that I love most on the continent is physically about seventeen.

Regardless of where it comes from, where every other woman in the room, barring the Duchess who is making her own statement with her looks and the Knight Commander who, I judge, could not care less what people think about how she looks. Where every other woman was dressed and made up in such a way as to accentuate and emphasise their youth while disguising their age. Lady Moineau had none of that affectation.

It was those two things I think, looking back. Her lack of innocence, her boredom and her loneliness that drew me to her. I would also wager that Freddie could make a few more guesses as to what else she meant to me.

(“What do you mean?” Damien asked.

“She reminded me of someone.” Kerrass told him but refused to be drawn any further on the matter.)

I didn’t love her. People might claim that I did, that it was some kind of love at first sight kind of thing, but it wasn’t.

There was lust there and a certain amount of longing I think. I felt as though I knew her. I felt as though I knew her and that I knew what she needed and what she wanted. She felt like… She felt like… She reminded me of a drowning man who desperately longs for something to cling onto. It wasn’t love. Need maybe? and I would be lying if I tried to claim that my own inherent loneliness didn’t also play a part. It is hard to be surrounded by loved up couples all day and every day without having someone of your own to go to bed at night, just to talk to even.

We reacted to each other in an almost visceral way. There were rarely any words said and what words there were said were part of our… dance. Yes, dance is the right word. We both knew that it was only a matter of time before we tumbled into bed together and we knew that we had to be careful to make sure that we were not caught. But after a while, it didn’t seem to matter. Her husband plainly didn’t care what his wife was up to and even now, I’m not sure if he actually knows or whether he has dismissed the matter as being impossible. “No woman would betray me.” He will say despite all the evidence to the contrary.

We played our game. We wrote letters to each other. We sent each other small gifts of little worth but considerable sentimental value.

Truth be told, there came a time when I rather thought she was going to chicken out. She became cold for a little while and began to withdraw from me. This was not my first dance of this kind and I had resigned myself to finding a nice and expensive night-worker who looked enough like her to be able to satisfy my lusts when I received a letter from her friend Severine. The letter informed me that Amelie would be staying with her for a few days and that if I were to call on the pair of them then they would be glad to see me.

As I say, this is not exactly my first go around of this kind of thing and so I went and our game seemed to be back on in earnest. Except now, far from an edge of flirting with danger. There was a desperate edge to her longing. We were still playing a game but there was… She was… It was as though before, she was just playing with the idea of climbing aboard the horse whereas now, not only did she want to climb aboard the horse, but she intended to go jumping with the horse before running the horse through a thick forest where the tracks are not known to her.

It was shortly after that that I was able to find an excuse to spend a bunch of time near Severine’s cottage on a minor monster hunt which was when Amelie and I first…

(Freddie’s note: He paused here for a long time)

I thought that Severine had forced the issue. That she had told her friend “Shit or get off the pot,” or words to that effect. Severine herself was more than a little attracted to the idea of sleeping with a Witcher and she wanted to know if her friend was going to set aside her claim so that she could have a go.

But now that things were more in motion, the longing in her seemed to be coming to the fore. She was desperate for me. Not just me but what I represented. She would cling to me before, during and after the act itself as though terrified that she would let go and then lose me. When we did separate so that I could come to town for society or personal reasons. It was like she pushed me away in order to get far away, to make the break clean.

I expected it to end at any moment. She was afraid, I could tell that fairly easily. Many times I offered to stop all of this. Many times I told her that if she didn’t want to continue then I would walk away and carry memories of her with me when I returned to the path.

Yes, I can get quite flowery when I put my mind to it. But she would always stop just shy of leaping on me and preventing me from saying anything else.

As I say, she was afraid. Naturally, I assumed that she was afraid of her husband, family or the scandal that would come if a lady like her would be found in the arms of an itinerant mercenary. I was more than a little afraid of that myself. The danger that this would put us all in, including the Coulthards to whom I owe so much. I was afraid that some guard would track her and that we would be caught.

But that was not what she was afraid of.

In the end I asked her. She didn’t want to talk about it, shaking her head furiously and denying that she was afraid of anything. I ran through all the theories that I had, including the theory that her husband would be angry if she did something other than what he wanted but she snorted at that and told me that he barely knew where she was and that he would only care about her infidelity if he was confronted with it.

The problem was on her side. Her own honour was part of it, certainly. She didn’t want to leave her husband. If she left her husband then that scandal would be far worse than what would happen to me and mine. The scandal would reflect back onto her husband, her parents and other siblings. It would simply be unheard of. The thought that she could leave him simply slid off her mind like water sliding off a duck’s back. It just wouldn’t take hold.

...

Even when the suggestion was in order to save her life.

…

Dammit.

But that wasn’t the only reason. Another was that she actually loved her husband. This was what I eventually decided it was. She really loved him, or had loved him in the past. The thought of betraying him, of hurting him was too much for her to bear. I thought that this was the problem for quite a while. That she loved him and that she wanted to take care of him. That she didn’t want to disappoint him, or her father, or any of the other people that had been involved.

I even think that there was a small part of her that wanted to ensure that the rest of the feminine population of Toussaint would be protected from her husband’s depredations if she ensured that she stayed married to him. That he wouldn’t have an excuse to ruin some other girl’s life.

All of that was part of it and if it wasn’t, then that would still be enough for someone like me to fall for her, fall hard at that.

I loved the idea of her.

Witchers are a solitary group of people. It is a rare Witcher that travels in the company of someone else. There is a reason that the only Witchers that you have ever heard of are Cousin Geralt for his travelling with Dandelion. Myself for travelling with my chronicler and friend Freddie. And Letho because he killed the Kings. But generally, we are a solitary bunch.

Freddie once asked me, this would have been early in our companionship as to why I attracted so much female attention. His question was not unfair, even if it was partially driven by jealousy. I gave him the answers that you will have read about. Curiosity, guilt and consequence free sex, access to rebellion from husbands, fathers and brothers. The Longing for adventure, fascination with the alien. All of these reasons are true. All of them are accurate and all of them represent why it might seem as though we have a lot of women throwing themselves at us. But the question that he didn’t ask, was why we take that up. Why do we regularly take these ladies up on their offers?

The answer is simple. I can’t speak for everyone of course. But I know why I accept those invitations and why, when Freddie first met me, I was doing my best to abstain.

I’m lonely. It is one of those things that they teach you about before you set off on the path. It’s why we work so hard to bond with each other but to otherwise, close ourselves off from other people. That loneliness makes us vulnerable and it means that people can take advantage of us. Much though the jokers amongst you might want to deny this, as it turns out, you can’t eat the virtue of a daughter, or armour yourself with the attentions of an attractive wife. Or feed your horse with the company of a beautiful servant.

But there is that longing there. We want to be the heroes. The teachers of the school know this. It is why it is taught to us. Literally beaten into our flesh that we are not heroes. We work for money. We save people for coin and the reason we cannot allow ourselves to get attached to people, or fall in love, is because that attachment will lead to our downfall.

Just look at how many mistakes I’ve made since Freddie started following me around and being so inconsiderate to save my life and reason so many times.

But I want to be the hero, so badly. I want to save people and be thanked for it. For women to throw themselves at me genuinely and with real love, desire and affection that is driven from a genuine liking of ME rather than out of curiosity, obligation or otherwise. So many Witchers, yes, including myself, are still the lost, frightened, neglected, abandoned and abused little boys that just want to be loved.

So every time that a woman offers to open her arms to me and allow me to step inside, then I am tempted to take it so that, just for a moment, I can know what it feels like to be loved and wanted.

Yes, I am jealous of Freddie and Ariadne. No that is not a joke. No, I am not just saying that.

I cannot go to the woman that I love whom Freddie helped me free and THAT is the reason why my taking up of these offers is more common now since he first knew me.

Normally I make sure that I pay for it. I have a great fondness for sex workers. Call them what you like, prostitutes, whores which is fine so long as you are using the word as a descriptor of an occupation rather than an insult, I always liked the term “courtesans” because it sounds fancier. But there is an honesty that I have found in the company of those ladies that I value. They don’t want to be there, they are just there for your coin while they sell the fantasy for an hour, two, or an evening. They are in it for the money and if they like the punter and enjoy themselves then it is an unexpected bonus that they have learnt not to depend upon.

There is room for a connection there, even if it is just for a moment.

I was helpless before her. She could have asked me to perch on her lap while she stroked my head and tugged at my ears like the cat from which I take my school emblem. She made me feel like a hero. A Knight. A righteous man. She made me feel as though I deserved those things that I will never happen. She made me feel wanted and desired and by the Goddess I wanted to save her so badly.

Never quite so vulnerable as when I stand before a weeping woman. I did everything I could, everything I could think of to help her dry those tears.

But she still loved her husband. Or she thought she did. I rather think that she was remembering an old emotion. Especially after talking with her friend at the cottage. I think she was remembering teenaged lust and calling it Love.

But there was another reason why she would not leave her husband…

(Freddie: He would often sigh here. Desperately unhappy.)

I spoke with her friend later. All I had done was put the same words that everyone else had tried into a new order to try and get her to wake up and realise just how much of a shite Alain was being to her. She, Amelie I mean, she was a clever woman. Highly educated. After all, she had little to do with herself other than to plan affairs and read. All the normal duties that would be performed by the lady of the house were done by servants so she spent her time reading. I rather imagine that Freddie and she would have had a lot to talk about. She might even have done so if Ariadne had not been sitting on Freddie’s shoulder, looking gorgeous and hissing like a cat every time a beautiful woman went anywhere near him.

(I turned to look at Ariadne when Kerrass told the family this story. She shrugged.

“You were already dealing with a lot at the time. You would have been mortified if someone had flirted with you, you would have desperately tried to fend the lady off and stressed yourself out.”

I nodded. She had been worried about me and that always makes me feel better.

“Also,” she went on. “I didn’t want any of these women getting ideas. The court of Toussaint is replete with beautiful women that could turn a man’s head if he wasn’t careful.”

I sighed. She still likes to keep me on my toes.)

But even though she is very clever, and highly educated, she could be incredibly stupid.

Something else that she has in common with Freddie.

Had.

Had in common with Freddie.

Dammit again.

And to be fair, Freddie was never as besotted with someone as Amelie was besotted with Alain. She was so far gone that she literally couldn’t see how he was playing her and how bad things had gotten. Freddie has never been that blinded by a person.

(I have. Not the proudest time in my life. Kerrass paused again here.)

Very early on. Extremely early on, so early on that it might even have been all she knew about her marriage. Alain told her that he was doing his best to save Toussaint. That was why he was such a philanderer. Back when she first questioned his infidelities, he did indeed hit her and lose his temper at her to the point where she was almost driven mad with it.

But he also told her that what he was doing was for the good of Toussaint. That he was finding things out and distracting his enemies so that he could carry on his “work”.

I found out about all of this, the night after Lady Caroline tried to warn Amelie in the Beauclair market. That was the first time that I felt as though I really saw under the mask that Amelie presented to the world. She was so sad and so upset.

I hadn’t known that woman. All I had known was the flirty, obsessive, very passionate, driven woman. The romantic that wanted to live the life that she was supposed to have lived. The fantasy out of a storybook.

That was what she wanted. She had spent so long crafting that persona around herself that she barely knew who she was in and of herself any more.

But when I saw her, really saw her, then I rather thought I could have loved that woman.

Given enough time.

You see, in saying that to her. He took advantage of the fantasy that is Toussaint. The madness of Toussaint. It was the madness that Toussaint needs fixing. You all have it. You all have this idealised version of what Toussaint is. What it was and what it should be. Everyone agrees that Toussaint is not what it was. Some people think that it was never that great in the first place and that everyone should work together to that end. The Knights Francesca, The Duchess, Syanna and Captain de La Tour lead that faction. But the others have this image of Toussaint in their heads. Of a time when Knights were bold, women were chaste while also being influenceable and free with their affections. But most of all, it was a time where women knew their place and that the Knights word was paramount.

That faction, I think, is born out of those men that resent two things. The first is that the Duke died leaving Duchess Anna-Henrietta in charge. Thus losing all their power and influence. But the other is that the Ducal family didn’t choose them to be married to Anna-Henrietta. That Jealousy is still evident in a lot of what you see around you today.

Why does Morgan get angry at EVERYTHING the Duchess wants? Because he sees the beauty that the Duchess grew up to be and is angry that he didn’t get to marry her when he got the chance. Now that she is single again…

(“Determinedly so,” Syanna added.)

… then he thinks that he has another shot. Except he’s married. I think you would be surprised at how much this is all fuelled by the fact that these men are crushing on the Duchess.

But whatever. There has, as far as I know, always been a faction of men in Toussaint that think that the Ducal family lost its way when the Duchess was made heir.

When the Duke first died, they were all hoping that the leftover authority that they had in the courtroom was still as powerful as it used to be. They tried to tell the Duchess what to do, how to behave, how to rule and above all, who she should marry. But the Duchess had something that none of the rest of them had, because she had done something that the rest of them never had. She had actually travelled among the people of Toussaint to speak to them. The fact that she had done so in order to be able to easily ignore her husband’s infidelities is unimportant.

So now there was a Duchess with all the power, all the influence and all the popularity that she could ever need and one day she simply realised that if she wanted to, she could say that any man who tried to tell her what to do can be killed.

(Freddie: I would give real money to have been in that court when that happened. I think that there would have been a lot of fun to be had, over pumped up, arrogant men getting their ego’s destroyed.)

The Duchess started to make changes, the upcoming Knights liked these changes and as such, they followed the Duchess without question. They reasoned, not unlike the Duchess had, that they had had enough of all of these old men sitting around, not doing very much, and telling them about how they have it easy compared to how it used to be in Toussaint. Telling these young Knights how to be Knightly which, as far as I can tell, mostly seems to boil down to instructions to always do what your elders tell you to do.

So like the Duchess, the younger Knights looked at the world. They saw all the bandits, monsters and injustices that their elders were ignoring and got to work.

Freddie would be able to tell you more about this kind of thing, but it’s not unusual. Sooner or later, the parent has to die so that the children can progress. Otherwise the parent is in danger of holding the child back.

(“In this case, the parents being the older, stuck in their ways, arrogant Knights who want things to stay the way they used to in some kind of imagined past. Where young folk, women and peasants all do as they are damn well told.” Syanna wondered?”

“Pretty much.” Kerrass said. “And the children are the younger Knights who are not blind to the old problems or the complaints of the elders, but are also able to see all the problems and dangers of the new world that they have grown up in. They cannot understand how the elders cannot see this and, as such, get sick of being told what to do and set out to do what they think is right.

“It happens in history all the time.” I commented. “The older caste get overthrown. Because if they don’t, then all the new problems that the older generations cannot see, grow and grow until they become destructive.”

“Why does this happen?” Damien wondered.

“Because change is painful.” Kerrass told him. “We all have a nostalgic wonder and desire for how things used to be. Even when what they used to be was just as horrific. Freddie once commented, correctly… And yes Freddie, I still read all your published journals. He commented that I look back on my time of training in the Feline keep with fondness. He is right. It was a horrific time, but now, with the rosy glow of nostalgia, I can no longer see the pain and the suffering. I think of it as being necessary to get where I am today.”

Freddie’s note: It is also worth mentioning that the new generation that take over, often fall into the same traps that their parents did. There is sometimes a tendency to get all “woe is us, the older generation cannot understand what i’s like,” but also, there is always the very real danger that the children that step up and sort out the new problems, do not see it when they have children. They are not self-aware enough to realise that they have become the old folk who sit around, telling the younger generation about how great it used to be and how they should all shut up and do what they are told. Then they become surprised when the younger folk rise up and overthrow them. They are often genuinely surprised when it takes place instead of remembering that they were forced to do the same thing once upon a time.)

What happened here though, is that these older men, and some older women who are upset that their daughters now want to roll up their sleeves and get involved in the running of the world after the examples of Calanthe and Maeve, Cerys, The Empress and the Duchess herself.

I am picking up Freddie’s habit of running off on tangents.

But these people retreated to the corners of the courtroom to moan about how things were better in their day. The courtroom progressed to the inns. Merchants would start to moan about how taxes and tarriff’s were better under the old Duke, that Customs agents were properly respectful, (which meant that they were more open to the idea of being bribed,) and that prostitutes would not fight back once they had taken the coin. Which meant that they would lie there and not complain about being beaten or tortured as part of the service.

Over time these men and women changed, moved on or calcified. Some of them, men like your uncle Sir Guillaume, Lord de Launfal and… from what I understand, Sir Milton de Peyrac-Peyran…

(Syanna shifted uncomfortably in her seat)

… realised that the new way was as good, or better than it had been and adjusted their own practices in order to take it in. Others retired to the countryside where they could practice their own tyranny in far flung regions of Toussaint, where they were often astonished to find that their workers and servants would simply go to those Vineyards and farms where masters and Lords didn’t think that their Lordship gave them the right to beat the men that they didn’t like the look of and rape the women that they did like the look of.

(“Common folk are funny like that.” Damien muttered dryly.)

But still others had even less grace than that. They determined that they would ensure that Toussaint would return to the days of glory. Part of the problem was that some of these Lords and Ladies had children and because parents have a lot of influence over their children. Then the children take on these views as well.

Amelie and Alain were children of these kinds of Parents.

(Guillaume shifted in his chair. “I remember both Alain and Amelie from when we were all younger. Their parents were good people and I struggle to believe that the seeds of...this began with those fine people.”

Kerrass shrugged. “I got this from Amelie herself. I can’t say more than that.

Guillaume subsided but he would occasionally mutter darkly.

“I’m not saying that these people were evil, unpleasant or anything.” Kerrass tried to clarify. “But if you tell a child something often enough then sooner or later they start to believe it.”)

And that’s what happened to Alain and Amelie. Severine was wrong. She never had a chance with Alain. Not really. She was a bargaining chip, little more than that. She was something to help negotiate the dowry price between the different couples. Certainly, sleeping with Alain was a mistake because it interrupted the negotiations, but Severine was never going to marry Alain. The parents would never have allowed it.

So Amelie and Alain were inducted into the cult. Because that’s what it was. It was a cult. Not as dark as the one in the North. There was no human sacrifice, no torture disguised as rites and rituals. There was no power behind it. It was a group of people that were complaining about the fact that their world was dying and that the new world that was taking its place was becoming larger and more powerful by the day.

They called themselves a Secret Society. What that meant in real money was the kinds of things that you find in exclusive clubs. They had robes, secret handshakes, meeting places. That kind of thing. They negotiated amongst themselves. It was a network of people. It meant that if one introduced a merchant to another of their little club with a special signal then that merchant would be guaranteed work. They used this power to drive up certain prices, to make certain wines more expensive than the others so that they could hold onto what little power, wealth and influence that they still had.

The stated aim of this society was to pressure the Duchess into marrying someone. That was another difference between this society and the Cult in the North. It never crossed their mind to assassinate the Duchess. At least not until an heir had been provided. They really did love Toussaint. I could see it shining in Amelie’s eyes when she talked about it.

And that, when you wonder about why she never left with any of the other lovers, or would entertain it with me… That is why she would never leave Toussaint. She loved her husband, but that was not the greater madness. That was… Toussaint. She could not bear to be exiled so she would stay with Alain and help out in whatever way possible that she could, or that he would permit her to, in order to preserve the realm.

(“I can relate.” Syanna whispered with a haunted look in her eyes. “If you’re not from Toussaint itself, it seems inconceivable. If I told you, Lord Frederick, that you can never go back to Redania you would barely notice.”

“So long as Ariadne comes with me then… I could easily find a home in any number of places. The University in Ban Ard has offered me a post. As has the military academy of Nilfgaard although I am not sure what I could teach them.”

“Precisely. Home, for you, is people. You would weep at never seeing your family castle again. But for you, home is your friends, family and lover. For us… All of that, is Toussaint. I love my sister, even as I hated her, I loved her. Cousin Fringilla even theorised that I hated her so much precisely because I loved her. I love Damien too…”

The man in question shifted in his seat uncomfortable with the frankness of Syanna’s speech.

“And he is Toussaint. He is possibly more Toussaint than anyone. I love the Knights and the people. I even love the bandits because they give us something to fight against. They are an example of the evil that would corrupt us and I love that it gives us something to fight for. I love Toussaint. You Freddie, like to call it a sickness. But is it a sickness if it makes you feel better?”

I had no answer to that at the time. Now that I have some distance, I would tell her that Patriotism, because that is what it is, can be a sickness if it blinds you to the problems that are inherent in what you are patriotic about. I am a Patriot and I love my country. Doesn’t mean I have to like Radovid or what he did. That would make me a fanatic.

“Exile is far harsher a punishment than death.” Guillaume said. “I love Toussaint too. It… It’s in your bones, in your blood. I have seen people use magic and I wonder if there is a magic to Toussaint. Something that cannot be measured by a Witcher’s medallion. Even if it is, it brought me friends and brothers that I would not have found without the magic of Toussaint. Including you Freddie, and you Kerrass. I look forward to the moment when the three of us can draw our swords together.”

“I carry a spear.” I pointed out, to much laughter.

“The point is the same. Toussaint gave me a wife, it gave me a sense of right and wrong. I serve the Duchess and I serve Toussaint. I like that certainty.’)

Obviously her idea of what the Realm should be and what her husband thought are two separate things and I doubt that we will ever know given that it is unlikely that we will get to ask Alain about it. But I do know that Amelie had a vision of proud towers, wonderful ladies, Knights in shining armour. She was an idealist. Even as the world had beaten it out of her.

So this society met regularly to get drunk and moan about the old days. The Duchess resisted marriage and became even more entrenched in her views. They lost their power and their influence as their membership dwindled over the years. This because more and more, people were realising that in order to survive then they needed to take on what the Duchess was doing.

They weathered the Duchess’ affair with Dandelion. He, at least, was of noble born and international renown. They rather hoped that the affair would result in the Duchess getting pregnant and thus, being forced to marry Dandelion. They knew that Dandelion would not be interested in ruling, being a father or a good husband…

(“And by good husband, they meant that he would never be faithful.” Emma had commented.)

So they decided that they would be able to get him to appoint them back into power, they could exert their influence over any children and everything would be right.

(“My sister was too careful for that.” Syanna commented. “She had enough wits about her to ensure that she never became pregnant. Either for Lord Pankratz’s first or second visit.”

“Hang on though.” Damien jumped in. “There was an heir. Lady Caroline. That is assuming that there wasn’t some other mysterious heir that the Duchess managed to keep secret from everyone.”

“Amelie had no knowledge of that.” Kerrass said. “I only found out about Lady Caroline’s rumoured connection to the Duchess this morning when Freddie told me.

“I can guess though.” I suggested. “Lady Caroline is a woman and one way or another, she is born out of wedlock, making her a less than perfect heir. I would guess that people knew and just… kept the idea in the back of their minds.”)

But then the Night of the Long Fangs happened and everything changed. Not because of Detlaff or Syanna although I suspect that there was something there. But because the Duchess gave Corvo Bianco to Cousin Geralt.

(Damien twirled his moustache at that, “I remember that. I was pretty outraged too.”

“Yes, but you got better.”

“I did, but it took time and for Geralt to show his qualities.”)

The Duchess gave Corvo Bianco to Cousin Geralt as a pre-emptive reward for his services during the crisis that was, at the time, being called the Beast of Beauclair. I am not going to re-argue that, or to discuss who was at fault for what happened in the end.

But that moment, when the Duchess gave the vineyard to Geralt, I think that embedded the hatred and the loathing deep into those people that now form this conspiracy.

Because Corvo Bianco, despite it’s colourful reputation and the fact that it was on the back foot of everything. Very far from the money making machine that it had been, was an old, established Vineyard and had a rich, storied and powerful background. Regardless of how it came into the possession of the Duchess, these people thought that such an old and established Vineyard would be better given to one of them to look after. To oversee and to reap the benefits from it. The fact that they would have only seen the money as an incidental thing is something that I suspect they would find annoying. They wanted the prestige of the matter. They wanted to be the person that the Duchess trusted with so old and… blah blah blah.

They wanted to walk into parties and to have people ask them how the Vineyard was getting on. Then they could make hand-wringing gestures and say things like “Oh well, you know. It was in a terrible state when we got to it after the depredations of whatsisname that had been taking care of it before. But now, the land is so neglected that it’s barely worth keeping a vine on it.

Then they would sell it or do something else with it. Build houses or fancy mansions that could be sold or rented out to visiting dignitaries was one of the more prominent theories that were to come of things. That close to the Tournament grounds, it could have been turned into a sporting arena, more facilities for Knights and contests. A proper archery range, quarterstaff, mace, axe, running wrestling and so on.

But now it was given to an outsider. A mutant. A “tradesman” even and these men, and more than a few women, saw this as The Duchess’ intention to bring down the nobility of Toussaint. That she would reward Blacksmiths, Carpenters and builders over and above those noble Knights who had earned the privilege of being the landowners.

(“By virtue of being born into the right family,” Emma sneered.

“We’re hardly people to talk about the benefits of being born to the right parents.” Mark chided her)

This was made worse by the fact that Cousin Geralt did the same thing that he would have expected someone to have done if there had been a monster involved instead. He hired a professional. He invested a lot of money and hired someone who knew what they were doing. Lo and behold his first crop, aided by some friends that he had made during his adventures that gave him seed and facilities and the like, made a tidy profit. Which Cousin Geralt reinvested and so the place only grew more productive. Moving out into Olive Oil and other crops which were used to make the Vineyard wines all the more excellent. The situation was even more underlined when Yennefer moved in and brought her Alchemical skills to the fore and made the wines into ports and various liqueurs.

So Geralt had the temerity to have been rewarded with something that, according to them, rightfully belonged in the hands of the people of Toussaint. Then he made it work in a way that all his detractors had said was impossible. And so the resentment took hold. It was watered by the forgiveness shown to Lady Syanna.

(“I still wonder if that’s why the Duchess did it.” Damian mused, stroking his chin. “If she gave the Vineyard to Geralt in order to shame the other landowners and people into doing their damn jobs properly.”

“I never asked her.” Syanna commented. “I wouldn’t put it past her, or rather, I wouldn’t put it past the Duchess that she is now. At the time? I think it’s slightly more plausible to think that the property had come to her. She was tired of people approaching and making subtle demands, threats and insinuations that the Vineyard should be given to them. She wanted rid of it so that she could enjoy something of a quiet life. So when the opportunity came up that she could both get rid of it while also getting the annoying people to back the hell off, I think she took it.

“I certainly think she realised how much she had angered people. You will all remember how she gave the post of Ducal Vintner to a traditionalist after I had managed to bribe the previous one.”)

That gave the conspirators the impetus to stop being bitter and arrogant so that they started actively planning. They knew that the Duchess wouldn’t live forever. They ignored the fact that she was younger than all of them and they just assumed that life would go back to normal when she died and things could proceed from there. They started to plot, scheme and plan for that moment when the Duchess was unable to govern and so they could return the Duchy to more traditional values.

Then the Empress chose to be crowned in Toussaint.

But what happened there and then is not what these conspirators are angry about. They are angry at the fact that the Duchess allowed The Empress to make such sweeping changes to the way that Toussaint is governed.

(“Pfft. As if the Duchess had a choice.” Emma snorted. “I saw the Empress that night. She wanted blood, and if the duchess had even tried to stop things or resist the changes that the Empress demanded then there would have been blood in the halls that night.”)

(“The Duchess agreed with her though,” Damien commented. “And rightly so. The Errant system had become bloated, corrupt, top heavy and needed change. Violent change.”

Syanna muttered in agreement.

“Would I have preferred change to be a bit gentler and more understanding?” Damien continued. “Yes I would. Toussaint was traumatised that night with the changes that were made. But they did need to be made.)