Cyrdic's eyes were wide as he saw the unholy magic being unleashed. The Ostlander gazed down at his sword, confused as to why he had just stood there. Even eager to meet the magic head-on. Yes he had been caught unawares by it, but even at the last second, he had chosen to face it instead of getting out of its way. He was just glad both of his companions had the weight that could knock him to the side. 

Cyrdic thanked Camilla and herr Koneinswald, checking if they were ok before making his way back to the mouth of the sewer, and peered inward with the torch. 

Nothing. Cyrdic breathed a sigh of relief, glad they had at least dealt some damage to those chaos lovers. If there was one thing he'd never get tired of, it was that. His shirt was tatters, his back scraped, and his body covered in grime, but he felt satisfied with what they'd accomplished, even if it wasn't nearly enough to make him comfortable. 

Tomorrow night, there would be an attack on the city, and the Count's ball. Cyrdic and Camilla needed to tell the Chamberlain. Though who this 'red lady' was, he couldn't guess. 

Koneinswald cleared his throat, and helped Camilla up before dusting himself off. "Vile filth," he spat. "Why any man would break bread with a ratkin is beyond me." The Witcher checked his remaining shot and powder, speaking almost casually. "I assume you two will be at tomorrow's daemon summoning?" 

Cyrdic snorted at the joke. "We'll look out best too." he said. 

"I'll be searching the poor district, though I might show myself there as well. Unseen, of course. If I were to walk in, the time for subtlety would be over."
[@Penny]