A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

“Absolutely out of the question. How could you possibly even think of doing something like this, letting a stranger, and a mutant at that, investigate our departed brothers murder,”

It was not a question. Brother Mark was in fine flow.

I found a seat and just let him get on with it.

“I refuse, I absolutely refuse to be questioned by a freakish mercenary mutant as though I am some kind of criminal.”

“You have to admit Freddie,” Sam piped up, meaning that I didn't have to admit anything. “That it is a bit...”

“Wrong,” Mark was clearly not done with the floor and still wanted to have his say. “It's wrong is what it is. Why not just say what you're thinking Frederick?”

Uh-oh. I was Frederick now. I must be in big trouble,

“You think we're all keeping something from you. You think this is all some kind of vast conspiracy against you and that you need to crusade to write some wrong. That's it isn't it.” Mark spun on Emma, “This is your fault for encouraging him you know. Bringing that Witcher friend of his into our home and encouraging his fantasies about marrying a Vampire. They've clearly used dark magics to get inside his brain and are using him to take control away from the rest of us.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond but Mark hadn't stopped his tirade.

“I forbid it. I absolutely forbid it. I know that the matter of inheritance is still up in the air while Father still languishes in his sick-bed but I have authority here as both the first-born and as a senior member of the church. You all know that I don't like to throw my rank around when it comes to family matters but in this case I feel absolutely justified.” He stalked over to me and wagged his finger at me in an attempt to exert his afore mentioned authority over me. “You will leave this investigation in the hands of the proper authorities. You will expel this mutant heretic from our home and after this family crisis you will either return to the university to carry out some proper scholarly work or I will have you sent to a monastery where you can properly study the articles of faith. You will call off your engagement with this Vampire of yours and live your life according to my direction and my law.”

The day had not started well.

Kerrass and I had sat in the practice yard the previous evening as I told him about what I had wanted. He had argued a little bit pointing out that he hunted monsters, not mundane murderers and he had added his voice to the argument that I should let the proper authorities deal with the matter but then I had countered with pointing out what we had seen of the proper authorities when we showed up. He had agreed with me.

“But there is another problem Frederick. Something that I should warn you about as you and I are friends. This is the kind of thing that never turns out well for the family unit. Ever. You and I are friends. Your siblings know this. To properly find a murderer I am going to need to look at all of the different angles of the problem which includes having to go through all of your families private affairs and dirty little secrets. No, you don't understand,” he held his hand up to stop me protesting.

“There are always little secrets. Things that you don't know about each other, little things that will shock you rigid about each other. I don't know what they are and to the outside world, it might not seem like very much but to each of you. It might turn out to be important. Do you see what I'm saying?”

I nodded and he looked at me sceptically.

“The other thing is this. For all the time that you have been travelling with me, you have been the outsider. Witcher's need to be outsiders so that we can properly do our job. We have to examine things from every angle without mercy or consideration. If the town is cursed then why is it cursed and how are we going to free the town from the curse. Can we cure the curse by killing one little girl or will the entire town suffer instead?”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“That's an extreme example of course but we look in from the outside so that we can remain objective. But now you are on the inside. It is made worse by the fact that you are one of the people that I have to investigate.”

“Me, what did I do?”

“Off the top of my head? You came home. Under escort by a knight which is, therefore a cast iron alibi. Maybe there's something else going on that involves you. You are supposed to be a scholar but now you are a man of the world, why? If your sister gets her way you're probably going to marry into the nobility at a level which puts you ahead of even your oldest brother should they survive. You might protest and say she isn't a real Countess but to everyone else, a Countess in theory is still introduced as a Countess.

“Let's see, what else?” He started ticking off points on his fingers.

“You're a fighter now. You travel with a Witcher. You've started making your own list of contacts outside of the university. You've provided several letters of recommendation for various merchant types to your father meaning that, no matter what your father decides. Some people are getting richer because of your actions and some people are getting poorer.

“But how different might things have gone if Sir Rickard had never found you. If he'd been even two days later or if we'd been held up on the road. We rode for four days straight, give or take an hour or two. Your brother died half way through that. Is that significant? Was a message sent to someone that you were on the way home with a Witcher in tow?”

He shook his head.

“Of course you don't know. Neither do I. I will even admit that it's unlikely but at the same time it will need to be examined which means that I need to keep you out of it. You are used to tagging along and helping me bounce ideas around. That will not be the case here. There will be times when your perspective might be useful but there will be just as many times where it will not be. Do you understand all of that as well?”

I nodded.

Kerrass grimaced.

“I'm not sure you do. I tell you what. Sleep on it. Have dinner tonight, sleep in your old bed and we'll meet down here for practice in the morning because if you think you're getting away with not doing that now that you're home you need to think again. But after all that. If you still want me to look into this then we shall work from there. That's the deal, take it or leave it.”

“I understand,” I responded. I could already tell that he wasn't going to budge on the matter.

Dinner that night was relatively quiet. Just the family and a few others that were staying in the castle pending taking up other cargoes. Everything felt on hold until father died so there was an odd kind of feeling of being frozen in time. Of all people it was actually Kerrass who started to liven up the evening telling, at Emma's insistence, his version of how the two of us had met. He went on a long and flowery account of how he had found me drowning in a relatively light rainfall and how he had been generous enough to take me under his wing. He went on to give a fairly good account of our destruction of that first ever Nekker nest that both made the company laugh at my expense but also made me out to be some kind of hero.

I did notice that more than one person in the hall started to look at me somewhat differently after that. I put in the odd joke and made similarly humorous observations about some of Kerrass' own behaviour so that the two of us were able to keep the conversation relatively light and fluffy for the rest of the evening. All the while my family and a couple of acquaintances picked over my new found monster hunting expertise and my teacher in the ways of the world. It would have been a pleasant evening but at the same time we were still avoiding the topic that our elder brother was lying in the coldest basement that we had, awaiting internment and that our father was upstairs fighting for his last breath.

My mother was the first person to excuse herself from the company claiming fatigue and wanting to check up on Father and Mark followed. Emma and Sam kept Kerrass and I company for some time until I was yawning so hard that I was beginning to be concerned that the top of my head was going to fall off. I made my excuses and sloped off to bed.

Where I couldn't sleep.

Isn't it always the way. I was physically exhausted after several days of hard riding, my legs ached, my backside was sore and by the morning I absolutely expected to be stiff as a board. I hadn't slept properly since receiving my sisters message and by anyone's estimation, I was exhausted.

But I couldn't sleep.

The bed of my childhood which had nursed me to sleep so many times just felt uncomfortable. Another sign that I had physically changed shape. I no longer seemed to, well, fit in my own home. I lay there on a blanket, it being far too hot to curl up underneath the blanket, and stared at the ceiling looking at the old cracks in the stonework. Old shapes that I used to imagine were armies and faces. I had mapped whole continents into the patterns on the ceiling and imagined wars and treaties and trade pacts between the nations that I had invented. It had been an almost hypnotic exercise that I used to use to quiet my brain after a hard days study or another days unjust beating out on the practice fields.

But tonight it didn't work. It all seemed so small.

Eventually I pulled on a shirt and went for a stomp around the castle in search of old nooks and crannies. An effort to get the castle under my feet again. To see if I could find something that would remind my tired body that I was home.

I crept along the halls as quietly as I could, a habit formed from not wanting to be caught doing this same thing when I was younger. I justified it to myself that I was trying not to wake anyone else but the truth is that it was a habit so ingrained into my body that I couldn't shake it despite having every right to stomp about my home at night if I so wished. The sounds of the castle slid into my mind. As I passed Mark's chamber I could hear his deep bass voice snoring and mumbling in his sleep, and grinned. From elsewhere I could hear the guards on their nightly patrols both inside and outside the castle, keeping us safe while we slept.

Maybe that was why I couldn't sleep. I was so used to taking care of my own safety that allowing other people to take care of me seemed alien somehow.

Somewhere I could hear the sounds of a woman's pleasure. I couldn't tell where it was coming from and I didn't try to find out as it seemed rude.

That was a new sound.

Definitely a new sound for this wing of the castle where my family and guests stayed.

I grinned at the thought. Kerrass had probably found himself a willing maid of some kind. Judging by the looks he had got from some of the serving maids at dinner, he wouldn't have found it too hard.

I moved on.

The Kitchen was just where I left it. At least that hadn't changed with the night staff frantically cleaning everything ready for the breakfast cooks to come in in the early hours of the morning. Here again there was a sense of waiting, as though the storm was about to break. As soon as the funeral and the wake were going to be announced then these rooms would be a flurry of activity. The guest rooms would be packed to the brim and the kitchen would be a 24 hour industry. But for now, they sharpened knives and cleaned out bowls. Sweeping out fire-pits and cleaning ovens to produce the maximum possible heat.

The biscuits were still in the same place though.

As were the herbal teas and the drinks taken out for the guards to keep them warm.

The courtyard was deathly quiet as I stomped up to the walls. A couple of people called their greetings. One strange incident was that a new Sergeant to the garrison told me to get my head down so that I would be properly rested for the morning drills. It took me a minute to realise that he had mistaken me for a new recruit and I laughed. Things might have gone badly had a family veteran leant over and whispered in the Sergeants ear. There was some good natured chuckling all round and then we all hushed up like errant children who had been caught making noise in a church.

I walked round the walls and climbed the towers. More sign that I had changed. That exercise would once have left me out of breath but now I took the stairs two at a time and barely noticed the strain. More and more I had the sense that I had moved on.

It is a strange realisation to know that the place that you grew up in is no longer your home.

I chatted with those men that I knew, shared drinks out of flasks and told old jokes. I even got some more respect from the armed men as I could now talk about weapons, and fighting techniques with all of them as well as telling a few filthy jokes of my own. I was happy that I seemed to fit in with these men that had had a habit of terrifying me when I was much younger but another part of me was sad. I was a fighting man now and for some reason that loss of innocence didn't really sit right with me any more. I promised that I would be out in the morning for some training which surprised many of them. It was an easy promise to keep as Kerrass would be hammering on my door when the sun was coming up anyway.

I found myself looking forward to the activity.

My legs were jumping and felt as though they wanted to run. To sprint somewhere, to jump and skip as though my muscles were overflowing with extra energy. All the while I was yawning so wide there was a danger that my open mouth might catch flies.

Eventually I found myself at my sisters door. There was light flickering under the door so I knew she was awake. My sister was one of those lucky people who only needed to sleep for five to six hours a night and as such she is often the last to go to bed and beats most of us down to breakfast in the morning boasting that she likes her porridge hot. I knocked and was permitted entry.

“I had wondered if you would come tonight,” she said with a fond smile. She had clearly been in bed herself, the bed-clothes in some disarray and a book was on her night stand, upside down on the page breaking the spine. My inner scholar winced at the wanton cruelty to the perfectly innocent written word.

“What can I say? I find I can't sleep.”

“Your bed too comfortable?”

“Something like that.” I smiled as I sat. “The truth is that I find I'm... I don't even know the right word.”

Her smile echoed my own. A little sad but with some humour deep down in there somewhere.

“You've moved on Freddie. This isn't your life any more. Even if it ever was.”

“Close, and that's certainly part of it.” I accepted a cup of tea. “I find I'm just so.... dissatisfied.”

Emma's eyebrows shot up. “You know that there is more than one willing maid that can help you with that nowadays.” Her eyes were glittering.

“No it's not like that,”

“You can't have my maid though,”

I threw a cushion at her that she caught with a laugh.

Then a thought occurred.

“Really?” I said, “There are maids that would be into that now. They never used to give me a second look.”

“You've filled out Freddie. Word has spread about you threatening that Under-sheriff, odious little man that he was, and suddenly you are exotic and interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“As I say, you can't have my maid though.”

“She struck me as more of a personal aide than a maid anyway.”

Emma cackled at that. “An aide. I like that. I will have to tell her.”

“And you want me to go ahead with this Marriage?” It was one of the things playing on my mind.

“I do,”

“Even though she's hundreds of years old?

“And a vampire. Yes.”

“Why?”

She thought for a moment.

“I received the first letter a little while ago so it will have been sent shortly after you left her neighbourhood. It was very formal and she has since admitted that she asked someone about what should be put in such letters and then just added a few bits. But her way of writing and her wit came across quite well. What can I say? She made me laugh. I wrote back and we talked like that for several letters.

“Doing the maths she sits down to write a response the moment that she receives a letter herself and I approve of that kind of industry and care as it makes me think that she does things quickly so she doesn't forget. She doesn't take herself too seriously, she is clever and has an interesting point of view that I found appealing. In short, even if you don't marry her, I would still attempt to maintain a friendship with her and have told her so. She was enormously flattered by that and I guess that I have a firm friend there in her own way, but the real reason that I am for this marriage is this.

“I think she's genuinely interested in you. I don't know if that is her form of love or affection or a crush or anything else but I think she likes you and I think she cares for you despite only knowing you a little.”

“In her own way,”

Emma toasted me with her own teacup. “As you say, in her own way.” Emma seemed happy, relaxed in a way that was unusual in my sister and I found myself wondering about it.

“What about Mark?”

Emma pulled a face.

“You let me worry about Arch-Bishop Mark. Don't you worry. All you have to worry about is deciding whether or not you like her enough to go through with it. If Mark is not happy then I can soon find another churchman that will bless the union. In her last letter she told me that she kept threatening the local Bishop that she wanted to get baptised.”

I laughed at that.

“No it's not my pending nuptials that's bothering me.” I said after settling down a little, “even though I will admit that I thought she was joking when she first asked who would be in charge of arranging my marital status.”

Emma looked at me over the top of her tea-cup. Big sisterly cynicism radiating from her eyes.

“OK, it's not only about that. I just... Why aren't we doing anything?”

“What do you mean? What would you have us do?”

“I don't know, anything. Searching the castle for a murderer for a start. Questioning people, shouting, getting upset.”

“That's not how things are done?”

“WHY NOT?” I was exasperated.

“Because we have to be seen not to fly off the handle whenever we get the chance. We are the Lords of this domain Freddie. We're in charge. We are it. If we start disrespecting the authorities where does it stop. In this case we would be protesting about the conduct of someone appointed by the Sheriff. He answers to the High Sheriff who in turn answers to the King. It might change now that Nilfgaard are involved but that's still the thing. At what stage does our little protest turn into a rebellion? At what point would we get an army turn up and oust us from our homes to the execution block?”

It dawned on me, about here, that she was as frustrated as I was.

“This is how things are done Freddie. I don't like it and I will be sending a protest letter to the Sheriff to complain about the conduct of his underling but as there isn't another under-sheriff we might just have to live with it.”

“We could investigate ourselves?”

“At what point does that become interfering with an existing investigation?”

“I already interfered with an existing investigation when I booted that little shit in the head.”

“Yes you did. It was wonderful. I wish I could have seen it. Luckily Sir Rickard has taken that off us but don't think it might not cause other problems.”

“I do have another solution.”

“Oh yes?”

“I could hire someone to do it. Private investigators do exist.”

“Not often as they tend to be hired to go after the wrong person. You're thinking of that Witcher fellow aren't you.” It wasn't a question.

“I am. In fact I'm going to.”

She sighed. “I wish you wouldn't but I can't stop you. It will work if we can depend on his discretion which I suppose we will have to. Mark will have your hide though and I'm not sure he would be wrong to do so.”

“I know, but I can't do nothing. Edmund is our brother.”

“Edmund was our brother,” Her Rage was sudden and overwhelming. She reminded me of a cat, hair on end, teeth bared and claws out.“You didn't know him like I did Freddie. You don't know what he was capable of. I hated him and I am glad that he's dead.”

Her words, along with the hate that they contained, echoed in my mind as I left her rooms that night to return to my own for the night.

In the morning I went down to train with Kerrass and a couple of the other guards. Kerrass pushed me hard and I had to really fight to hold my own against him. It was only afterwards that I discovered that the guards were cheering my name as I fought. At one point I thought I noticed Sam watching a little way off but by the time I thought to check he had vanished.

Kerrass asked me whether I still wanted to proceed with my contract. When I told him that I did he insisted upon gathering my family and informing them of Kerrass' new task.

As my sister had predicted, Mark did not take it well.

“You are done Frederick. Done. Finished. You will find yourself a proper career and then, if I'm feeling generous we will find you a proper, Flame fearing woman to take you in and marry you where you can properly obey the tenets of the Holy Flame.”

I opened my mouth in protest at the decrees of my brother as he so casually disposed of my future but as it turns out, he still wasn't done because then he spun back to Emma.

“And as for you. You've been swanning around here as though you own the place for far too long, it's time that you properly settle down and...”

“That's enough Mark,” my sister snarled. It was an old argument between the two of them. “As of yet you still have no right to tell us how to live our lives and until the matter of inheritance is sorted out, you still don't have that authority. It was myself that offered Witcher Kerrass hospitality when he arrived at my home. Not yours, as you so obviously have an Arch-Bishops palace to call your own now and this is the first time you've set foot in this castle for what, three years?”

“That's beside the point,”

“No it's not. It's exactly the point. You become a priest and you give up all rights to earthly possessions. I've seen some of those palaces, they look pretty earthly to me. But in the meantime whatever else happens, the Witcher stays.”

“But...”

“Secondly. The proper arrangements of a child of this house for marriage are none of your concern. They are the concern of the child's parents which has been delegated to me, his elder sister and the eldest daughter of this house, which gives me precedence on this matter over you. Father gave his blessing to the union and actively told me to proceed. But apart from anything else... it hasn't been agreed yet and won't be until both parties, which includes her by the way, agree to it.”

“You know that...”

“Thirdly,” Emma growled. “Every single one of us here are over the age of our majority and you have no control over our lives. Tell me what to do again and we'll see how your prestige in the church continues without the constant stream of capital that I send into it's coffers.”

“Ah so we get to threats now is it...” Mark was red in the face.

“I think we've got somewhat off topic.” Sam piped up seeming quite calm which leant some much needed quiet to the room. “Freddie, I will admit to some concern here. You turn up, see something suspicious and then decide that you're going to get your pet Witcher to investigate this murder.”

“He's not my pet.” I managed. I was struggling to decide how to feel. Furious? Definitely but I was also amused. The entire family had reverted to type with alarming speed. The fragile alliance of my Fathers injury and pending demise had shattered and everyone was at each others throats. I would have laughed but it all seemed a little tragic as I had honestly assumed that they would all have supported my decision.

“I misspoke and I apologise,” Sam. SAM of all people was being the calm one, “But nevertheless there are things that you do when this kind of thing happens. Regardless of how you feel about the matter and how you feel about the officers in charge of the investigation. Feelings that I for one think are justified by the way. You have to let the proper authorities pursue this. That's how society works.” he was appealing to my sense of civic responsibility. A good play for my brother. “We can't all go running off to protest when we don't like the way things are going. That leads to vigilantism which can be worse than the crime, or equally as misguided and dangerous. Surely you must realise that, especially as you are far from unbiased in this matter.”

“You're right,” I said, finally wanting to get my words in edge ways. “You're right, I'm not unbiased. I'm absolutely furious. I am spitting mad, hopping up and down with it and so angry that I am barely able to speak.”

“Yet I notice that you are speaking.”

“Mark!”

“What astonishes me is this.” I was trying desperately to keep my own temper in check. Trying so hard to keep it tamped down and myself restrained but it was getting difficult. The moral high ground can be awfully lonely sometimes and the overwhelming desire to get mucky with everyone else is sometimes a little too much. “None of the rest of you seem to care. I'm livid, absolutely livid. I'm also terrified. So scared that I can barely speak. Our brother was killed. The presumptive heir to Fathers titles, lands, status and wealth was murdered. But from a distance there is another word for that kind of death. A death that sits at the top of society and that word is 'assassinated'.”

Mark shifted his weight uncomfortably. Emma wouldn't look at me.

“There could be any number of reasons as to why Edmund was killed. Personally I prefer the theory that he got in too deep with someone but that argument doesn't hold water as with all due respect, he was about to become the wealthiest man in this corner of the world and therefore more than able to pay his debts. There are other possibilities. Someone in the castle could have killed him from jealousy or rage or any other number of reasons.”

“Preposterous,” said Mark, “None of us would have...”

“By the flame are you even listening to yourself? We are not the only people that live in this castle. We are also not the only people that spend time here with servants, merchants, soldiers and all the families of those people coming and going. With apologies to Emma and our mother, Edmund was well known for putting it about a bit. He beats and rapes some woman on the lands only it turns out that the husband, father, brother, son of the woman in question saw an opportunity for revenge. They took it. That's if the woman herself didn't take the opportunity herself. Are they done? Will they be satisfied with just our brothers corpse or, having tasted noble blood, will they want more? I don't know, do any of you?

“What if there's a foreign influence. What if someone in Nilfgaard's court has finally heard of the Baron von Coulthard and decided that they want our money for themselves and this is the first step in an attack. What if this person seduces and marries poor Frannie, Sammie is killed in a Battlefield “incident”. I get eaten” by some monster. None of this is proven to be anything but occupational hazards and suddenly, with no other heir and Emma being unmarried. He inherits according to the law.”

“You didn't mention me there?” Mark put in. He was caught up despite himself.

“No because the church is so frightened about the Nilfgaardian worship of the Emperor as a semi-divine being that if Nilfgaard told them to then it would be found illegal for you to inherit.”

Mark began to protest but I could see the realisation in his eyes.

“You know he's right there Mark.” Emma had spoken up again.

“The proper authorities is a nice idea. I like the idea of someone finding out the culprit and not carting me off for interrogation on the basis of, and I quote, “there are no other suspects”. As I have just demonstrated there are plenty of other suspects so my question is this. Why aren't the rest of you climbing the walls, tearing those walls down and in the offices of important people RIGHT FUCKING NOW demanding that they take this seriously and find out WHO MURDERED OUR BROTHER?”

There was a pause as the echoes died down.

“You didn't have to live with him over the last couple of years. You wouldn't care either.” Emma said into the floor.”

“Maybe not. But even though I didn't like him very much either and yes, as I've said before I did hate him as well occasionally. He was our Brother and we need to know, we have to know what happened. For our safety and the safety of those that we care about as well as those people that fall under our care. I do not trust the “proper authorities” so I am asking someone who I know to be skilled in this kind of area to look into it. That's all.”

“That's all?” Mark snarled. “THAT'S ALL?” he thundered giving me the feeling of what he would be like on his pulpit when he had the fire in his belly.

“He is a mutant, a heretical mutant and a magic user. That he was a friend to you was disquieting enough but the fact that he's got so far into your thoughts and feelings that you are so set on letting him tear through the families private affairs. He is gone, he will be thrown from the castle right now.”

“I saw him practising with those swords of his.” Sam put in, “This morning on the field. I have to admit that I wouldn't want to be the one that has to try and make him go anywhere he doesn't want to go.” He grinned, it was a noble effort to try and calm the situation down.

But then he ruined it by agreeing with Mark.

“But I have to agree with Mark Freddie. I will not answer to some... Mutant freak of nature who goes against Nature. I simply will not. I refuse. Emma is right. This is not my home and for my money, the freak is pleasant enough company but I would suggest that he make himself scarce before we do have to call out the guard to remove him from the place.”

He put an emphasis on “freak” and “mutant” that made them sound like grave insults and I felt my the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“There you see.” Mark nodded approval to Sam. “The mutant leaves. I also refuse to answer any questions.”

“His name is Kerrass,” piped up my sister. “He is my guest. I welcomed him and he stays, as my guest until he wishes to leave. I share Freddie's concern about what happened to Edmund but at the same time I think this action is foolish.” She looked at me. “This investigation will not go ahead.”

I subsided a bit. I felt defeated and beaten. A younger son again, a failure and a fraud.

“I think it's time for me to say something now,” said Kerrass. He had stood silently at the end of the room where he had stayed and kind of drifted away from people's perceptions even though he had clearly been listening intently.

“I find your discussions fascinating, not having a family of my own I can honestly admit that I find your interactions extremely interesting from an outsiders perspective of course.”

“Your observations are not important to us now, you may...” Mark tried to dismiss him with a wave of his hand. Exactly the kind of gesture that my Father used to use that made me so angry.

“I wasn't finished.” Kerrass' cold words slashed across the room like a whip-crack. He didn't speak loudly but there were teeth to those words. He stepped forwards until he was in the centre of the room.

“I am Fredericks friend and I have to say that after close to eighty five years on the road I have met many good and fine people during those travels and Fred here is one of the best. I am not given to exaggeration so you know that to be true. If anything his faults are that he tends to care a little bit too much and he is a little too innocent but given enough time, I think that he will be a great man some day. I am proud to call him my friend and as such I would have words to say to each of you.

“I would ask you, Priest, what good you have done. You might claim to have saved many souls from your pulpit, sitting in comfort in the Arch-Bishops palace that I too have seen, or you might even have gone with the armies to give solace to the troops. I don't know, but I do know how many lives Frederick has saved. Actively saved. Some were people that I needed help to save, some were people that I wasn't there to save and he stood over them, knees shaking, with his spear in front of him. He's run into burning buildings and plucked babies from the gaping maws of monsters that would make you piss your cassock. By my count he has saved forty two lives. One of those lives is mine and that one he has saved several times.”

It was a strange feeling listening to Kerrass talking about me then and there.

“Next, you, Samuel the soldier, Sir Samuel the knight. Here is my question for you. How many people have you killed? Don't bother answering, you've fought in a war so it must be quite a few but I will ask a follow up. How often do you think about those people that you, personally, have killed with your weapons? How many other people have you killed? How many children and women and old, sick and crippled men? You might think that you have not killed anyone but in that case I would call you naïve. You are a knight. How often have you gone out to forage for food? How often have you taken grain, or meat, or the villages last cow or horse from the pleading peasants as they begged you to be merciful. How many people have died because you took that food? You might say that it was war, that you were defending those self-same people but in the end, you killed them just as surely as the encroaching enemy armies would have. When you thought about them at all, if you thought about them, you would have thought that it was their duty to give those things up. That it was your right to take them. Didn't you?”

Sam said nothing and although he tried to meet Kerrass' gaze, after some time he found that he could not.

“I thought so. How heroic of you. Frederick? How many men have you killed?”

“Seven,” I answered promptly, “With my own hands.”

I saw the family take that point in.

“Now,” said Kerrass and I saw that he was addressing the room again. “That might not sound like many to a hardened soldier like Sir Samuel but I know something that Frederick does that I have seen no-one else do. He goes out of his way to find out the name's of the men he has killed. He writes them down on a piece of paper that he hides in his diaries and at every available opportunity he takes that piece of paper out and prays for the souls of those men that he has killed.

“He prays, priest, even though everyone, including me would say that those deaths do not fall at his feet as he has only killed to defend himself or to defend others. But he punishes himself because of those deaths, even when he has saved other lives in that killing.”

It never ceases to astonish me how Kerrass, like any great orator, can keep the attention of the room centred on himself when he is speaking.

“Madam, we come to you last.” Emma shook her head defiantly. “I am a Witcher madam which means that I can see, hear and smell better than most men due to my,” his mouth quirked, “mutated nature and as such I will admit to knowing your secret. Of all the people that you know, of all the people in this room you are afraid of letting that secret out to, and after this little meeting I can see why as well, but given all of this, which of your siblings is most likely to accept that secret without comment?”

He straightened and I was astonished to see Emma pale and lower her head.

“I have never had a family,” Kerrass said, “What little I remember of my birth mother tells me that I was sold to the Witcher's school but even then I am not convinced that she didn't do me a service. But you people, the richest people in this area of the world. I would have thought you could afford to be more understanding.

“I am Frederick's friend. I came here to support him and help him through what must be a difficult time and I was glad to do so. As his friend I would stand beside him. I would help him in his hardships and it shames you all to look at him so... so scornfully when I would be glad to fight and die for him. I would certainly challenge all of you for the wretches that you have proven yourselves to be.”

“But now I am not Kerrass his friend, instead I must be Kerrass the Witcher. He is my client which changes the nature of things. I work for him and I have already accepted the contract which means that you do not get to dictate the terms of those things. The contract has been accepted and the price has been agreed. I will investigate the murder of Edmund von Coulthard. You can try to stop me if you wish but I will exercise my own judgement on those matters, including acting to defend myself should it become necessary. When I am done I shall make my report to Frederick where he can decide what to do with it. That is what is going to happen.”

Mark opened his mouth,

“You can always refuse to answer, but such refusal will be part of my report and I will find out why you refused.”

The raw menace in his voice was startling and for a while there I felt shame.

But there was another person in the room. Someone who, until then we, including myself, had all forgotten.

My mother stood up from her chair.

“Witcher Kerrass. Your assessment of my family is rather brutal but the rebuke, although harsh which I have no doubt is well meant on behalf of my son, is not entirely unfair.”

She skewered us all with that look. Sooner or later we all have to remind ourselves that our mothers are still our mothers no matter how old we grow and how powerful we become, our mothers still have the ability to reduce us to tiny mewling babies.

“Frederick also makes some valid points about defence of the family and our people. Witcher Kerrass operates outside the normal legal system and as such he can pursue his own investigation independent of the process being used to discredit Frederick and the rest of the family and is therefore a good solution. I would also like to know the reason for this crime. Witcher Kerrass?”

“Yes Ma'am,” Odd how military he was suddenly behaving.

“I look forward to your report and encourage you to start right away. You may begin with me if you wish. However this little conference has kept me from my husband's side for too long so you will need to come to the sick-room.”

She nodded to the room,

“Master Witcher, children.” She turned and left. She was dressed as the most common nun but she was still lady of the manor.

It was some time before anyone else spoke. To no-one's surprise it was Mark.

“Well, Mother might be happy, but I am not. I will not associate with a deviant mutant and refuse to have anything to do with this.”

“Oh give over,” sneered Sam, “You don't need to convince us of your separation between church rank and family.”

Mark stormed off at that.

Sam stood after that and approached Kerrass. “Valid points Witcher, you have given me much to think about.” Sam extended a hand. Kerrass hesitated a moment before shaking it.

“I was possibly a bit cruel,”

“A bit?” Sam grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“Only a bit,” Kerrass agreed. “Soldiers are renowned for their inability to think independently.”

Sam laughed. “At your service Witcher,” he said.

“In which case I will start with you. Please have a seat?” Kerrass poured himself a cup of whatever drink was in the pot, raised his eyebrows in the question at Sam who declined before turning back to me where I was back to taking a seat.

“Thank you Frederick.” he said simply.

“What?”

Kerrass took a sip from his cup and tipped a large spoonful of honey into it.

“That was a dismissal Freddie.”

“I don't understand.”

“Yes you do, you're just being obstinate. This is the part of the job that I don't need you for. I work for you but my method is my own and, as I warned you, you are also under investigation. I will send for you when I need you. You too Milady.”

He sat down facing Sam with a patented Kerrass smile.

“Ummm,” I heard myself say.

It's an odd thing. On the one hand there was the ingrained habit of being Kerrass' assistant over some time and sitting in on most of his “interrogations” coupled with the fact that this whole thing was happening because I had put these events into motion. I wanted to see what Sam had to say for himself. On the other hand, I was well aware of what it was that Kerrass was talking about and realised that my feet should already be walking.

It took me a moment to realise that I hadn't moved.

“Fuck off Freddie,” Kerrass put a little emphasis into it as though he was talking to a child.

Emma tugged at my sleeve and we fled together.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked when we were some way down the corridor.

“I don't know,” I was frowning. The world had changed again and I wasn't entirely comfortable with it. I liked being on the inside. I enjoyed being part of the solution when Kerrass walked into town. Now I was part of the problem and I couldn't complain about it because I had put myself there.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked her instead.

“I don't know,” she looked confused and upset. “No, no I don't think so. I want to think. Kerrass said some things there that caught me off guard and I want to... I want to think about them.”

She was frowning now and seemed a little vacant.

I nodded.

“I think I will go and try to work up another sweat then, try and take my mind off things.”

“Good idea. Don't forget to eat something though. I know you when you get into one of your concentrations.

You just forget to eat.”

I nodded. She wasn't wrong and we separated.

A thought occurred. “Should I try and speak to Mark?”

Emma thought. “Nah. Let him stew in his own juices. Mother will deal with him and I still control the purse strings and I will until I get told that I don't by Daddy's lawyer which will take time. Even if he dies tonight.”

I nodded and waved before moving off.

She was probably right. Mark would either calm down or he wouldn't there was no point worrying about it at the moment. Although the thought that I might have to marry Ariadne to avoid the fate of being a church scholar was not a pleasant one. I didn't want to marry someone for a reason other than the fact that I wanted to marry them but it seemed that that choice was being taken away from me. Family duty or personal freedom, not Love or even affection.

Hardly seems fair.

I couldn't say that I hadn't been warned though.

I did go out to the practice yard and got my spear out of the armoury to discover that it had been cleaned and polished from the mornings drills. Kerrass would be cross with me as he always insisted that a fighter should maintain his own weapons. He was not wrong.

I did a bunch of slow drills in an effort to calm myself. The point was to do all the set of moves that you would normally do in a drill but as slowly as possible while keeping the movements smooth. It's not as easy as you might think but in the right circumstances it can be quite calming.

It didn't work this time.

I sat back down and began to maintain my own weapon.

That didn't work to calm me down either.

I realised that I had been working on the same spot for some minutes when Sam sat next to me and handed me a plate.

“What's this?”

“What does it look like?”

“Umm, a Roast Pork sandwich. With apple sauce.”

“Yeah,”

I took it and took a large mouthful. It was delicious.

“Thanks,”

Sam sat next to me.

“Don't thank me yet. I fucking spat in it.” He grinned.

“I deserved that,”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” I stared at the empty plate. The food had vanished in short order.

“Why?”

“Lets just say that when you wiped that gunk out of your eyes this morning. It wasn't sleep.”

Sam stared at me before exclaiming in horror and recoiling.

It was a joke that one of Sir Rickards men told me. I hadn't got it at the time but now I understand the genius. The imagination is much crueller than a punchline.

“You look very innocent when you sleep.” I said with a grin.

“Fucking hell. That vampire has gotten to you you sick fuck.” He grinned back.

We laughed and I felt better.

He had a play with my spear and I examined his new coat of arms that had been engraved into the pommel of his sword. The blade was heavier than I would have liked and I said so. He told me that it was to break through armour.

He said that he didn't understand the long cutting edge of the spear head rather than just having a point. I said what Kerrass had said to me all that time ago. That points work well in formation but not so well on foot and that sometimes, monsters need sharp edges.

“I'll bow to your superior knowledge,”

“As I will to yours.”

He nodded as he re-sheathed his blade. I found myself admitting that he suited his uniform and coat of arms and let go of the resentment that I had held for a long time at my more athletically gifted brother. He moved now as though the sword was part of him like an extra arm or a leg.

“How did it go?” I asked suddenly.

“The interrogation. It was fine, a lot less angry than I was expecting to be honest. I tell you truthfully brother that I had not imagined a Witcher telling jokes.”

I snorted. Kerrass had once admitted that one of the best ways to get people to open up is to make them laugh. I said so.

“That sly fucker. Anyway he asked me about how we found Edmund and the events before and after within about a day. Then he asked about Dad's accident a bit and then asked me to escort him up to see mother.”

“Dad's accident?”

“Yeah, I asked him why he cared so much and he shrugged. Heh. I did hear that he was forcefully kept from Mark's rooms though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Mark still has his church guards. They've started guarding his door in pairs and the rest are put up in the barracks down in second level. Captain Froggart is really pissed about it. Apparently they just walked in and demanded one of the buildings to themselves without asking. Not that Froggy wouldn't have been accommodating but still... You know Froggy?”

“I know Froggy.”

Captain Froggart was an old soldier who was responsible for the family and castle's security. In the event of an actual attacking force into our lands it would be Knight-Captain Froggart who would command the Coulthard response. He was frighteningly competent, ridiculously good at his job and as far as I could tell he was universally hated by his men. But if anyone insulted old Froggy in front of any of his men then that person could expect to wake up with a shock.

That shock being that someone had removed their lungs.

“But your Witcher...”

“I notice that he's my Witcher now.”

“Shut the fuck up I'm telling a story.”

“Sorry.”

“So you should be. Anyway, your Witcher goes up, all polite and asks to speak to the Arch-Bishop. He's all polite and everything. The guards tell him to Fuck off. The Witcher insists that they check with the Arch-Bishop, still all polite and stuff, the guard pokes his head through, there's some mumbling before the guard comes back and says some flowery words about the Arch-Bishop being indisposed. The other guard then tells the Witcher that what that means is “Fuck off.” The Witcher listens to these words politely and then tells the guard that he will enquire as to the Bishops health on a daily basis, and indeed whenever he was passing. He says that he has some extensive knowledge of herbalism and that he might even have an ointment that has just been prepared by his own fair hand for the use of soothing troubled brows at which point the church guards start getting a bit more aggressive.”

“Oh holy Flame.”

“That's exactly what I said. The Witcher, all innocent good will wishes the Bishop well and it was such a shame that the guards wouldn't let him past when he might be able to help with his indisposition before walking off.”

I was giggling. “That's beautiful.”

“I know, I thought you'd like it.”

“So if Mark does emerge for whatever reason then Kerrass can say “Aha! You are no longer indisposed, ready to answer some questions now?”,”

“Yep, and also. I've known your Witcher for an hour at best but I can just tell that he's going to turn up at all hours of the day and night just to check on the Arch-Bishop's health.”

“That sounds like him.”

We were both laughing when Emma's maid found us and handed me a piece of paper. She nodded to me and frowned at Sam before leaving just as quickly.

The note said that I was to meet Kerrass and Emma at Dad's study.

“What's her story?” I asked as I got up to leave,

“Who?”

“Emma's maid.”

“The flame only knows. She was here when I got back. She's got more status in the castle than everyone but the family and the Seneschal. Cold one though.”

“Tried your luck did you?”

“Some of us don't have sinister Vampire ladies to keep us warm at night so I gave it a try yeah, I mean look at her, she's gorgeous.”

“Knocked you back did she?”

“With enough force to leave a bruise.”

I hissed in sympathy “Serves you right.”

“Probably.”

“Anyway,” I said with a grin. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah well,” Sam's smile faded. “Good luck.”

I grunted and left.

Kerrass and Emma were waiting for me outside of Father's old office. This was the hallowed place, the room where the vast empire ran. I had rarely been in here but those times that I had been in here had made my head spin.

I am a clever man. I don't say this to boast but I am smart. Some would say intelligent and some others would go even further and suggest that I am gifted. An enormous compliment that I don't really think that I deserve. Believe me when I say that I got absolutely nothing on my father.

That room was like a whirlwind. A tornado of paper, people shouting and arguing. Often with each other and against each other. Pieces of paper were flying everywhere, draws and shelves were emptied and filled. All the while with a couple of scribes who spend their entire time just sitting in the corner and recording everything. At any one time Father ensured that he had six fully trained members of the Scribes guild in the castle attached to his staff at any given time. They worked in a shift pattern so that they could attend father around the clock and all day, every day. As well as their abilities to write, transcribe and record all of fathers daily meetings they were also expected to keep up with Father in all of his other activities. Hunting being the most obvious one so that if someone tried to discuss business or politics during the Hunt, there could be a record of it.

Along with all of this flying paperwork their were lawyers, servants, merchants, nobles and all of the other people that father needed to run his commercial empire and ask Father for little favours. All the little favours.

Always sat in the middle of it sat my Father, listening, taking it all in. He liked to sit perfectly still, his fingers pressed together in a way that always made people think of a church roof. This attitude that he was half asleep or not really listening meant that people thought that they could get one over on him and he would say that this was when people's real thinking came out. Then he would move suddenly and pounce on a comment, or make a decision here or order something else to be done. Emma had once said that he looked like a spider in their web. Sam said he looked like a general amongst the generals staff. To me, he always put me in mind of a cat. A well fed cat who is surrounded by mice and birds and other animals that would normally be the cats prey. The cat lies there with his eyes close and lets them all come closer, closer still, closer and then just when they prey thinks that he is asleep.... He Pounces and purrs as they all flee.

I hadn't been in here in a long time.

Emma was pale, her hair tied up in a tight bunch at the top of her head. She looked as though she had been crying a little. I got a little angry at that but when I raised my eyebrow at her she smiled a little and nodded.

The small interactions that exist between people never cease to astonish.

Kerrass was frowning intensely at the door but was clearly waiting for me.

“You summoned?” I managed with little humour.

“Yes,” Kerrass was all business and turned to us both. “Frederick, you are here because I may need some practical help, Lady Emma, you are here because I suspect that this room is familiar to you and I need a guide but also as a witness to see that I don't move anything or interfere with anything.”

Emma and I nodded.

“Milady, you are well?” Kerrass was all polite solicitude. “This can wait.”

Emma seemed to straighten herself.

“I am fine, please proceed.”

“Now just to be clear, the door was closed when the body was found.”

“Yes, it seemed indelicate to occupy the room while Father was ill so we shut the door.”

“And locked it?”

“Yes,”

“Was it unlocked that morning when the body was found?”

“Yes,”

“Who has the keys?”

“I do, Mother does, Father had a set of keys as well as his chief scribe and lawyer. Also the housekeeper who let the servants in who were responsible for keeping the place clean.”

“So lots of people then.”

“Yes, but all of those people are trustworthy.”

Kerrass nodded.

“Is it locked now?”

“Yes, Sir Robart insisted on that.”

“A point for Sir Robart. Open it please.”

Emma produced a large key from a pouch at her side and opened the door.

Kerrass did not enter. Instead he knelt down and examined the lock in detail as well as the side of the door before grunting.

“No signs of forced entry so either Edmund was let in first, or the killer was in here waiting for him. Lets go in. Please keep to the edges of the room.”

We filed in. Kerrass fell to his knees and over the next several minutes spent a good deal of time frowning at the carpeting on the floor. Knowing what to look for I could see his pupils dilating and contracting and he audibly sniffed several times.

Emma and I stood next to the large window and, not for the first time in this whole affair, I felt like a school child waiting to be scolded. You know, that thing where you look at everything around you, your shoes, the examination of the dust motes floating through a sunbeam. Then you shift your weight a bit from one foot to the other and realise that you've got no idea what to do with your hands so you try out a couple of different ideas. In your belt, behind your back. One hand in different positions from the other before you eventually settle on just leaving them in the same place they were originally.

Kerrass meanwhile was edging his way across the carpet, nose along the floor until he got to the desk where he stood up and stared at the chair that was behind the desk at an angle. There was a large blood stain on the carpet underneath the chair and across the chair itself. I shuddered to think how much blood would be on the corpse itself. He looked at it all from different angles and different distances, frowning all the time.

I cannot emphasise how boring and frustrating it was to watch him doing this.

I can, however, admit to a certain amount of pride that I wasn't the first person to crack.

“Seven people?” my sister said quietly.

“What?”

“Seven people. You've killed seven people?” There was a look in her eye as though she was seeing me for the first time.

I blew out some air.

“Yes. There are possibly some more but those are the ones that we can absolutely confirm. They're not the ones that I severely injured or the ones that might have died from their wounds later.”

There was a long pause. I was disturbed by what I saw in her gaze then and I looked away.

“Was it hard?”

“That depends on the circumstances.”

“Don't mince words with me Freddie,” I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Whether she was mad at me, worried for me or just curious.

“Physically it's very hard. Much harder than I thought it was going to be and I was surprised at how much training was involved. It's not just about strength but it's about where you hit them and what you hit them with and how you hit them. Otherwise you're just... Hitting a slab of meat with a stick.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“I know but there are many different areas to it. Mentally?”

I took another deep breath.

“It's not as hard as you might think to kill while you defend yourself. When that guy means you harm and he absolutely intends to kill you and it's a choice between killing him or dying yourself then that's easy. The harder one is killing someone who isn't attacking you but is attacking someone else. That I found really hard but I was cured of that when it nearly killed me.”

Emma nodded encouragement. “Does it haunt you? Do you have nightmares?”

“No. Not about them. Not really anyway. Combat nightmares happen as I imagine all the things that might have gone wrong and all the ways that I might have died or those times when I really wanted to run away. I get nightmares about the people I've killed mixed in with those for a while but then they tend to go away after that. I get nightmares about those times I personally faced monsters. Without going into it, well, you've read the first account with the village and the Nekkers right?”

She nodded.

“That boy in the cottage having blood explode from his mouth as the Nekker bit down. That shit haunts me. The sound of his Mother's screaming...”

I shook my head in a half shudder, half conscious effort as the scream echoed through my skull then before I could banish it from my mind.

“Oh Freddie.”

I took the risk of looking at her and I was ashamed to think that I had expected condemnation from my sister of all people. Instead I saw sympathy and understanding.

Oddly, it was worse.

“But with the people, you try and find their names?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“I have thought about why I do it. In each case it was either kill or be killed, directly or as a result of other things, or allow something worse to happen to other people. I killed a knight that had me hostage who was trying to use me to force Kerrass into doing something. I started the fight but he had a knife to my throat so I feel justified in that one. But I digress.

“I look at these men and I think to myself that the only difference between them and me is an accident of birth. Of seven people, Two were bandits, another three were knights or soldiers who had been ordered to kill or detain me. A sixth was a city thief who tried to rob and kill me and he died because he didn't expect me to draw my own knife and ran onto it. The seventh was a poor, stupid man who tried to lynch Kerrass and I after we had helped with their monster problem and had decided that they no longer wanted to pay us. Of all of them he's the one who I feel sorry for as he was coerced into it by a ringleader who didn't dare attack us himself and instead coerced and pleaded so that others did his own dirty work.”

“And you know all their names?”

“No, I tried but no, I don't know them all. That haunts me occasionally. I try and pray for them but...his companions fled and he died before he could tell me his name.”

“What happened?”

I smiled a little sadly.

“It's a more common story on the road than you might think. People like Kerrass and I don't generally get attacked by bandits because we're obviously armed and there's only two of us so they weigh up the benefits of how much we're carrying against how many of them might be hurt. He insists that I wear basic clothing so it doesn't look like we're particularly rich. At worst the bandits jump out, try to look intimidating, we draw our weapons and tell them to fuck off. Eventually it turns out that they don't dare attack when their targets are ready for them and we move on.

“But every so often we come across those people who are less fortunate.

“We were heading South into Nilfgaard and along the road we came across a peddlers wagon. You know the type, festooned with scraps and odd things to be bought and sold. The Tarpaulin that covered it had been torn and there were items strewn all over the road. The horse was dead, filled with arrows and there was a Man and a woman nearby. He had been killed as he had dismounted for whatever reason and she was a little distance off near a tree. I won't go into detail but it was an unpleasant scene.”

“I'm grateful for that.” Emma was already pale and looked as though she was beginning to regret asking.

“But then we heard a young woman screaming. Kerrass tried to stop me, it's one of those circumstances where he tries not to get involved. But I didn't listen and charged off into the woods. We found the couple's daughter held on the floor and there were six bandits arranged around her. You can guess what was happening. I charged in and ran one of the men through. The others grabbed for clothes and weapons but it was clear that things would have gone badly for me if Kerrass hadn't appeared, sword drawn and killed another. The other four put up a little fight but they cut and run quickly when it was obvious that Kerrass outclassed them after killing another.

“I remember trying to help the girl. I took a blanket and offered it to her so she could cover up but she pulled a knife from the corpse of one of the bandits and slashed it at me. I recoiled and she ran off into the trees, following the direction that the bandits went. I didn't understand it at all and I still don't but Kerrass insists that it isn't unusual for that reaction in victims.”

I shook myself and my eyes focused again.

“Anyway. I couldn't get his name as he was already dead before I could think to act.”

Emma was watching Kerrass again.

“I can't imagine,” she said after a while.

“No, neither could I. I still can't despite having seen it for myself.”

She nodded and we stood together in silence for a while.

“Do you want to ask me?” she said suddenly, her voice small and timid.

“Ask you?”

“My secret.” She shook her head, a bit more defiance leaking through.

“Nah,” I said. “I did think about it but then I thought that you would tell me when you were comfortable with it or when it was important. Until then, it's not my business.”

She made a small sound, like a cross between a sob and an explosive expulsion of relief. She took my arm and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you Freddie.”

Kerrass was watching us.

“Have you two done making up and getting your family in order?”

Emma and I looked at each other, her eyes were suspiciously misty.

“Yeah,” I said, “yeah I think so.”

“Good, in which case I have a number of questions for the Lady.”

“Please Master Witcher, could you not call me Emma. You have saved my brothers life, from what he tells me, on several occasions and I feel that you are deserving of it. If matters were different I would say that you were almost part of the family.”

Kerrass twitched a little. “I would be honoured to call you by your given name milady, however I do not feel that it would be appropriate at this time as I am still engaged professionally.”

“I understand.”

Kerrass waited for a while while Emma wiped her eyes a bit. It was turning into an emotional day.

“At the end of the day's business. How does things work. In other words, who is the last person out of this room before it being closed for the evening?”

“Father, every time.”

“Why?”

“He said that he liked to keep everything in order and wanted to make sure that it would be for the following day.”

“When is the room cleaned?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“And the cleaning staff are let in by the Housekeeper?”

“Yes.”

“Is this room ever used when your father is absent?”

“No,”

“I understand that there is another filing office where people who are not in the loop of awareness come in and leave their reports?”

“There is,”

“To help protect security?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what's in the drawers and cubbyholes?”

“Yes, Father had a particular system that he liked to institute. The system is occasionally shifted so that it isn't the same all of the time.”

“Interesting. And Impressive from a security standpoint. Did you not find that this made life more difficult having to shift things round all the time.”

“Not really. Only those of us who knew the formula for the filing could properly put things away and we were the ones that were trusted to do that filing.”

“Interesting. Who were those people?”

“Myself, Obviously Father as he invented it. I think Mother knows it but I have never been sure. Father's lawyer and his chief accountant...”

For a moment Kerrass dropped his professional mask. “He has more than one accountant?”

“Oh yes. No one person could keep it all in their heads.”

Kerrass shook his head in amusement before the Witcher in him came back. “Anyone else?”

“The scribes and one or two of his chief agents.”

Kerrass nodded. “Are there any cubbyholes, cupboards, drawers or safes that do not have their contents

rotated?”

“A couple.”

“What makes them different?”

Emma grimaced. “They are the ones with the expensive Gnomish locks.”

Kerrass nodded. “How expensive?”

“I never found out but it is really expensive.”

Kerrass nodded before turning back to the rows upon rows of shelves. He shifted his view and closed one eye, then the other. He told me to close the drapes and the room was plunged into darkness. Kerrass clicked his fingers and a candle sprang into light which Kerrass held aloft.

“Thank you Freddie you can open the drapes again. Now milady, if I point to a couple of drawers and cupboards could you tell me what's in them. I don't need to look inside yet but a brief overview of the contents will be important.”

“I think so.”

“What's in this drawer?” Kerrass pointed at a relatively small drawer that was in a bank of about twelve drawers of similar size.

“That one is... That one is the travel itinerary for last month.”

“Last month?”

“Yes, who father visited, where he went and who he spoke to and about what.”

“Did anything interesting happen last month?”

“Not that I remember.”

Kerrass nodded before moving to a much smaller cabinet. He spent a bit more time peering closely at the door and the lock. “What's in here.”

“Father's journals.”

“Have they been emptied since this accident?”

“No,”

At first Kerrass seemed to be surprised but then his face smoothed over again.

Finally he moved to a drawer at the bottom of a small chest of drawers. The draw was quite wide but not very tall. This time Kerrass didn't bother examining it. “This one?”

“Fathers appointments diary. Those people for when he books meetings with specific people.”

“Can I have a look at it?”

Emma grimaced a little.

“Very well, I won't force the issue at the moment.” He stood up and had another look around. He walked back to the chair behind the desk. He examined the desk carefully.

“So the body was sat in the chair?”

“Yes,”

“With it's feet on the desk?”

“One foot. The other foot was resting under the chair.”

“Was the body slouched?”

Emma frowned in confusion.

“Did it look like he had slid down the chair after his injury?”

“I don't think so,”

“Why not?”

“Because there were no scuff marks on the blood soaked carpet.”

Kerrass smirked a little. “And he was resting his head on the back rest?”

“Yes,”

“Well done Milady. I can see where Freddie gets his eye for detail from.”

He turned back to stare at the chair. He then peered at the carpet and adjusted the chairs position slightly.

“Was that him paying me a compliment?” Emma asked me as Kerrass froze staring at the chair.

“Yes, enjoy it. They don't come often when he gets like this.”

Emma nodded.

Kerrass meanwhile made a couple of strong stabbing motions towards the chair before nodding.

“OK. I've seen what I want to see. I understand that the body is still in the cellar?”

“Yes,”

“Freddie, could you get my kit and meet us down there?”

Kerrass left as I went on my errand and I found them in the deepest wine cellar that we owned.

It was cold down there and although I had prepared by finding a thicker tunic I could see that that Emma was feeling uncomfortable.

“In here?” Kerrass asked.

“Yes,”

“Has he been cleaned?”

She nodded, hugging herself.

“Stripped?”

“I don't know.”

Kerrass thought for a moment before nodding and opened the door.

Edmund was lying a little way in. He had been cleaned and stripped and although I had seen many corpses by now and helped Kerrass with a number of different autopsies to help identify what had killed them. This was different. I felt uncomfortable and dirty.

I hadn't seen Edmund in a number of years now but even then I found that I was a little surprised at how much he had changed. I knew that he was, or at least had been, a skilled duellist. A skill that he used to protect himself from various angry husbands, fathers and brothers and so he was always thin and lean. A fact of which he was exceedingly proud. The man lying on the slab in front of us had begun to develop a paunch, his muscle definition had reduced considerably and he was balding with his hair obviously having been dyed back to it's original black. No natural hair is that black. I find myself now remembering the Edmund that I knew. The bully of the castle who I, as a young boy, couldn't help but look up to and worship as my social superior until I discovered, much to my pleasure now, that I lacked his taste for hurting others both socially and physically.

Kerrass of course was all business, lighting torches and laying out his tools.

Emma asked if she could go at one point but Kerrass pointed out that he wanted to make sure that no-one could accuse him, or me of interfering with the corpse and she nodded and proceeded to suffer in silence.

It was a long half an hour as I held the torch close to the body and helped examine it in minute detail. We lifted the arms to check the armpits, the groin for other signs (Incidentally, there is no embarrassment quite like discovering that your elder brother had suffered from a particular nasty form of the pox while inspecting his dead body in the company of your elder sister) as well as the backs of the knees and the soles of his feet.

Try as we might we could find no other injury before we finally came down to the injury on the neck.

The wound itself was a very precise wound and talking it over we decided that the entry had been fast and strong with a very sharp knife but that there had then been some tearing as the knife was withdrawn, either from the movements of the killer or from the thrashing of the victim.

The blade itself will have been very small with one edge fully sharpened and only the tip of the other edge similarly sharpened. Kerrass thought it could be a kitchen knife or a sewing knife of some kind. The sort of thing that anyone might pick up, sharpen for use and then drop unobtrusively somewhere and we decided that looking for the weapon was a bit of a waste of time.

We packed up and moved back to the courtyard so that Emma could sit in the sun for a bit.

“Just a couple of questions Milady before we...I beg your pardon, I let you get back on with your day. I imagine that you would have mentioned it if someone had prominently lost their favourite knife as that would have been looked for by even the most amateurish investigator but has anything else gone missing?”

Emma thought,

“Such as?”

“I'm thinking specifically of your dressmakers or seamstresses losing a dressing dummy or a fighting dummy being missing from the armoury.”

“Not that I can think of. Why?”

“Just a thought. Does everyone have an alibi?”

Emma snorted. “Quite the opposite in fact. None of us have alibis. It happened late at night. Any one of us could have committed the murder. Also every one of us, theoretically of course, had reason to dislike or hate Edmund.”

Kerrass nodded. “That in and of itself is significant.” He pursed his lips and frowned in thought again before he visibly gave up on whatever line of thought had caught him. “Very well, in that case what I need now is a list of the biggest castle gossips. It doesn't matter who they are or what social status they are but Anyone that would notice even the smallest detail changing in the castle. Also if you have a record of events in the castle as to who was visiting and why at any given time within the period of about a week before your fathers death and now. Can that be arranged?”

“Certainly. You want Debbie the cook and Theo the gate guard for gossip and the Chamberlain can provide you with records.”

“Can you introduce me, or give me a guide to take me to them.”

“I can do that,” I said, feeling a little peeved to be left out.

“No you can't,” Kerrass said shortly. “You're done for now.”

“But...”

“Nope. I will tell you when I find something to tell you about but I do not work with the client hanging over my head. You of all people should know that.”

I was stunned into silence.

“Your maid can guide you.” Emma put into the awkward silence.

Kerrass nodded and stalked off without a word.

Emma followed him after putting her hand on my shoulder for a moment.

I lost track of how long I stood there for.

Because then I spent the rest of that day and a good chunk of the following day waiting for something to happen.

Kerrass meanwhile had wandered off.

Literally.

He spent the remains of the day that we examined the body chatting to various servants and making friends with guardsmen. I found him chatting and making jokes with the gate guard and sharing some dwarven spirits with the serving staff. I'm told that he even stood the early watch with some of the men and took a sword fighting class in the morning with some of those men who the Captain thought could handle the Witcher's teachings. I have it on good record that he spent a good hour wading through the cess-pit and those areas where the toilets in the castle emptied out onto. He marched out like a man with a purpose and spent a good afternoon climbing through the kitchen waste that goes into a heap a few hours away from the castle where it gets composted down for the fields. There didn't seem to be anyone who he didn't spend time with or make friends with, other than the family itself. He even vanished off to Oxenfurt for a day to “pursue enquiries there” and didn't come back until late that evening.

Even though I had been warned, both from my own experience and from Kerrass' mouth itself that this would have been hard I found the entire process immensely difficult and frustrating. Eventually I found myself an empty office and got down to some work. The university had gotten wind that I was a days ride away and had forwarded a lot of my correspondence onto me. It turned out that I was becoming an authority on several subjects that I wasn't entirely comfortable with and had a large number of letters to write. I began my write up of our adventures in Angraal as well as taking the opportunity to work with Emma on my first private letter between myself and Ariadne. I was bemused to discover that even this has a lot of tradition and routine in it. That although it was supposed to be “private” correspondence that only I wrote and Ariadne would read, there was a lot of things that needed to be said as well as more than a few things that ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT BE SAID UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

Those things seemed to be all about titles, negotiations, any potential dowry or transfer of wealth or anything like that. A union between the two of us would need to be gone through with a fine toothed comb both by Ariadne's people and my lawyer.

It turned out that I have one. If anyone can recommend a cream or some other agent for me to remove a lawyer legally then please pass it on. Kerrass has also refused the contract claiming that even he doesn't hunt certain kinds of monsters.

I jest as the man is as inoffensive and funny as they come while also being terrifyingly intelligent.

I also spent as much time as I could at Father's bedside but I will admit that it was deathly boring. He was comatose for much of the time and whenever he did manage to wake up he was only awake for a few moments at which time he would eat something laced with pain relief so strong that it would flatten a decent sized horse.

Over time I could see my Father wasting away before my eyes becoming more and more skeletal, Splotches began to appear on his skin and what remained of his hair was falling out which was when that most insidious of thoughts crossed my mind. That first time that I thought to myself that it would be better for everyone, including him, if he could just die. That it would be a mercy for him that he would no longer be in pain and then everyone could move on. I thought of his brilliant, if strict, mind caged in that dying body swimming through drug and fever induced nightmares and more than once I had to have a quiet little weeping session to myself in some out of the way area.

I was not alone. The time dragged on for the rest of the family as well. Notably my mother was eating less and less as well as praying harder and harder. Mark didn't emerge from his rooms except to go to chapel and to stand his own watch over Fathers living corpse and only then when it was confirmed that Kerrass was out of the castle and that I was nowhere to be seen. Emma spent her time making sure that the entire families holdings didn't collapse but she reminded me of a swan. That old saying about a swan that they seem calm, placid and beautiful on the surface but underneath they are paddling like hell and I grew concerned about what would happen when she came to a stop. Sammy was Sammy and spent his time training. I joined him as often as I could manage it. He was surprised by how good I was but criticised that I wouldn't be able to fight in a unit. It was an ongoing argument but I pointed out that I never intended to fight in a unit and that was that.

So all things considered I had actually re-adapted to castle life really well. I was a little put out about how fast I had re-acclimatised to it all. I had spent significant amounts of time trying to get away from that place but there I was back to old habits and doing old things same as I ever had. I won't try to suggest that it was all unpleasant. I enjoyed reconnecting with Emma and Sam, spending time with some of the more well to do servants that had had a hand in bringing me up. I visited a couple of the surrounding villages to see some old friends and things. It was soured a little bit that Mark didn't want to talk to me at all because I would have liked a little bit of religious guidance but according to Emma he was still nursing his anger against me and it would take time for him to calm down and be able to talk to me like a reasonable human being.

It got to the point that I was actually rather shocked when I received a written message from Kerrass to say that he wanted me to come down to the stables.

The stables that the former Stable-master and my father had put together in the bottom courtyard were a thing of beauty. That's not an exaggeration. Everything that could ever be needed for the care and upkeep of horses was there. I've already mentioned a herbary and tack-making shed but the foaling area, the breeding area, the exercise yards. It was enough to bring a tear the eye of even the most devoted equestrian in the world.

I found Kerrass chatting amiably with the new stable master. The stable masters in our home were very well thought of and enjoyed a certain amount of prestige amongst the rest of the castle. My father gave them the authority to run the stables how they wished, providing that Fathers, and only fathers, requirements would always be met. Anyone else, from royalty down, had to abide by the stable-masters rule. I had not met the new stable-master yet although I understood his name was Gregory and was struggling with adapting to his new station in life and the extra authority that it gave him. Kerrass had, of course, put him at his ease and was talking about all kinds of things until I arrived. Kerrass greeted me with a happy little smile and a wave while he gestured for me to wait a little while he finished his conversation.

I found a piece of straw and greeted one or two of the horses that were down in the stables. My own horse had arrived from Flame knows where in the mean time so I gave her an apple.

Kerrass approached me,

“Come with me,”

“Oh hello stranger. How are you today?” It was possibly a little more bitter than I had originally meant it to be.

Kerrass frowned.

“Are you angry Freddie?”

I thought for a moment.

“Yes, and it's unfair. I apologise.” I made a little bow. “What have you got to show me?”

“It's over in the tack room,”

“What is?”

“Is your Father still alive?”

“If you can call it living. We reckon a day or two at most, although we've been saying that since I got here.”

Kerrass nodded. “That might be important.” He blew out a breath.

“I think your Father was murdered.”