5 years later…
Hierarch Markets, Novigrad
It was when the sun reached its height that two impeccably dressed women took to the streets of Novigrad for a gander through the markets. At first glance, one could easily mistake them for regular ladies of the town - walking together to go about their day arm in arm with each other, both of the women had a basket hung over their free arm.
The streets were not completely noisy, the drunks hadn’t come out yet and there were no shady individuals lurking around the corners. A rare hour where most was peaceful and still, just the happy chattering of passers by and the calling out of market stall owners peddling their wares to the people. Nothing was out of place in Novigrad today. The sky was a clear and bright blue and only a few clouds drifted lazily against the backdrop. There was a scent of lemon cake wafting over the air from a bakery, and the gentle sound of a lute being strummed behind the crowds. Everything was perfect today.
“You know Avery, it won’t be long until we’re dressing for the banquet tonight,” came the soft voice of the red-haired woman. She was short of height, and shorter than her companion - lean of figure too. Her eyes that were the colour of rich chocolate and the shape of almonds blinked excitedly, her lips formed a smile. She looked over her shoulder, back at two gentlemen who had watched the women saunter past with wide eyes, mouths open. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at them as she looked forwards once more. “Hopefully the attendants are decidedly more interesting and attractive than the rabble of Novigrad…” she rounded off, her voice more cutting now.
The woman at her side simply rolled her eyes and exhaled - as if she’d heard the words before a dozen times. She was dressed in blue hues, her shirt low cut and sleeveless, tucked into a figure hugging skirt that clung to the voluptuous shape of her thighs and rear, almost sinfully. “Celes…” she began in a serious, somewhat authoritative voice, “it’s not an opportunity for you to sleep around, it’s a high-class affair and it’s important we represent ourselves correctly. Stay away from the men,” she cast a stern glance over into the narrowed eyes of Celes.
“Alright then, I’ll stay away from the men,” she responded coyly with a smug grin, before she was pulled out of it once more by Avery.
“That doesn’t mean you can sleep with the women either, you’re to be on your best behaviour.” The stern glance was once again thrown.
“Fine, but what if they try to sleep with me?” Celes continued with a giggle, much to the visible displeasure of her friend who sighed again, stopping in her tracks. The arm that was entwined through Celes’s tightened as a warning. “I need to trust you’re just jesting with me right now and you’re not serious, you’ve got a lot to learn and you’re going the right way for me to pull your invitation…” Celes’s expression changed as she was drawn closer to the eyes of Avery, the violet and emerald orbs burning down at her with a severity she did not enjoy too much. “I was jesting, I was jesting!” She whispered back up at her. Avery relaxed and nodded, continuing to walk forwards.
The two remained in silence for a while, Celes looking sheepish, and Avery calm and slightly smug. “You’re right though, we’ll soon be getting dressed… Let’s see if we can’t find a nice something to wear for the occasion. A pretty brooch… a hairpin, something nice to remember it by and keep as a memento.” Try as she might, Avery could not stay perturbed at the younger sorceress for too long, she meant well enough - they were just both shared very different ideas of how the banquet would play out, clearly.
It was a table of glistening jewels that caught her interest first. They weren’t real jewels of course, just very fancy trinkets set with coloured glass. The handiwork of it was exquisite, and Avery found herself drawn to a flower shaped brooch in the corner, it appeared to be made of copper, and the detailing was incredibly delicate. She wondered why she was in fact so drawn to that piece. It wasn’t a memorable looking flower, in fact she couldn’t recognise what it was - it was shaped like a bunch, petals not outspread in a circle, but twisting around the buds. It was obviously modelled from a wildflower, the kind that would grow in bunches on a windy hillside or mountain. In the centre of each bud was a tiny droplet of amber coloured glass, dazzling in the sunlight - and yet, each droplet reminded her of something that she was unable to put her finger on.
“I’ll take this one,” she said slowly to the vendor, not for one second taking her eyes from the piece, simply handing over what she hoped was an adequate amount. “Curious piece…” she said dreamily as she turned it on it’s stalk, enjoying the way that the light changed the colours from amber to gold to honey. “Curious indeed…”
“Sir?”
The herbalist frowned quizzically as the witcher he had been haggling with -- tiresomely, he might add -- suddenly stared past him, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Valker blinked and looked at the merchant, now visibly annoyed. “Yes, yes, fine. Fifteen crowns per root and may it buy you a fine carriage,” he said and deposited the coins into the man’s outstretched hand with a tangible amount of disapproval.
“Thank you kindly,” came the venomous reply and the herbalist quickly turned to his next customer, glad to be rid of the witcher.
Valker stuffed the mandrake root into one of his manifold pouches and strode away with purpose, his boots ringing pleasantly on the cobblestones of Hierarch Square. Peasants and notables alike made way for the tall, heavily-armed witcher as his long legs carried him to the woman whose unmistakable eyes had suddenly grabbed his attention. She was not alone and he slowed down to avoid startling a stranger. He came to a halt in front of the pair of sorceresses, garbed in the same battledress that the tallest of them had seen him in before, five years ago, a kingdom or two away from here. It was an unlikely meeting. Valker did not believe much in coincidences.
“Avery,” he said, drawing her attention away from the amber droplets to his own amber-colored eyes. “Fancy meeting you here.” He stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, and inclined his head towards her red-headed friend. “Madame.”
Now that was a surprise, and quite a startling one at that too. “Valker?” She asked, taking a step back. It wasn’t normally that she came upon figures from her past like this, in such an ordinary setting too. Immediately as she looked at him she remembered the details of their short adventure together - not that she had ever truly forgotten any of it. “Fancy it indeed,” she said in a quiet voice of wonder, for she did not believe in coincidences either.
Celes cleared her throat and bowed her head in the direction of the Witcher, surprised that Avery seemed to know him. “Good day to you,” she said in a voice that was far sweeter than her usual one. The red-head eyed Valker up from head to toe, more than once. “Friend of yours Avery?” She asked, looking up at Avery’s face, finding a small slice of delight in it after her scolding moments ago.
“Acquaintance, would be the better term,” she responded, letting the trinket fall into her basket. “This is Valker, a Witcher who delivered on a contract in a village I stayed in some years ago… Valker, this is Celes, I suppose you could say she’s my mentee of sorts.” Finally, she smiled down at Celes, and back up at Valker, catching herself looking into his eyes just as she had five years ago, and then it clicked as to why she had picked up the brooch.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Valker said to Celes. He did not smile, for he almost never did, but he did not fail to notice the way she looked at him and his face softened somewhat from its usual stoic expression. Like all men, he enjoyed making a good first impression. It paled in comparison to the way Avery’s eyes gazed into his own when he turned his attention back to her, however, and Valker paused for a second. He had seen the brooch before she’d dropped it into her basket.
He cleared his throat and gestured vaguely towards Novigrad, all around them. “You tired of the countryside, I take it?”
She felt as though she had been put on the spot - she had been, in fact. She was a different woman than she had been five years ago, as evidenced by the fact that she was mentoring a younger sorceress for a start. “I have not been there in some time, if that’s what you mean to ask. Yes, I’m more of a city dweller now,” she didn’t wish to say too much, not with Celes there, Celes who at the point was filled with the kind of mischief in her eyes that Avery had left behind. Celes who was about to interrupt…
“We’re getting ready for a banquet actually, that’s why we’ve been in Novigrad.” She said with a smile as she looked between Avery and Valker slowly, watching them carefully. “It’s tonight,” she continued before her mentor placed a hand on against the girl’s shoulder. “Celes, I doubt a Witcher is interested in our affairs. Why don’t you head back to our room at the inn now, I’ll finish up here.” She did not seem visibly irritated, but she could do without anymore of her meddling.
“Of course,” she sighed, unlike Avery, Celes absolutely was visibly irritated by her dismissal, “nice to meet you Valker.” She said with finality before turning to head back in the direction they came in.”
Valker frowned slightly as he watched Celes stalk away. “Are you so eager to be rid of me already?” he asked, not unkindly, and looked back at Avery. “Shame.”
Was he this eager to talk last time? She could’ve sworn he was not, but it made her smile again, and for a just a moment it was her famously roguish smile. “That’s not it now, I’ve already had to scold her today - I don’t wish to have to scold her again.” Her voice had softened now that Celes was gone. “I could ask you the same question anyway, hunting a monster in Novigrad?”
Based on the way he remembered her talking to Reeve when the lord had misbehaved, Valker assumed that Celes might have gotten more than she bargained for when she signed up with Avery. “Fair enough. And no, I'm not here on business. I've just returned from Toussaint, did some work there, and now I'm restocking my supplies, figuring out my next move,” he explained and sighed. “Everything is more expensive than I remembered.”
He was more talkative. “That’s the city for you I’m afraid,” she replied tilting her head with a shake and a light shrug of her shoulders. “Toussaint you say? Now that’s a beautiful place, lush meadows and mountains, the city square… The colours,” she sighed and moaned aloud, wishing she could be there. “I don’t know how you could bring yourself to leave.” If she closed her eyes she could picture it very clearly.
It wasn’t until a passerby walked around Avery, that she realised they had been fixed in the same spot - blocking the view of the stall. She turned her head from left to right, before settling back on Valker, “come, walk with me.” She wasn’t asking.
Obeying without question, Valker fell in line next to the sorceress. “Yes, Toussaint is all that, and also the land of pompous knights and insufferable traditions,” he said. “The culprit of my contract turned out to be a very creative godling with the same opinions. I almost didn't put a stop to him. Long story.” He paused as if lost in thought before continuing. “But you can't say they're not a generous people. My saddlebags are full of wine, if you'll believe it.” He glanced sidelong at Avery and cleared his throat, thinking better of something. “But I'm sure the wine at your banquet will be just as fine.”
Her eyes closed and her lip curled at the mention of the banquet. “I'll stay as long as I can handle it, I don't know how much I'll enjoy it, but if the wine is as fine as you seem to think then maybe it won't be so bad. I shall have to try them all.” She laughed as they walked, enjoying his company. It was unexpected, and that had been just what she needed to warm her mood. An idea struck her all of a sudden, and she almost stopped in her tracks to share it, “do you like banquets Valker?” she asked, meeting his glance with her own while her finger traced the outline of her lips - her mind ticking with thoughts.
The old witcher Bram's words rang loud and clear in his mind. “Stay away from the nobility and their courts. Deal with ealdormen, farmers, soldiers if you have to. Politics are bad for business. A room full of people who might have a use for you is a room where you don't want to be.” But the food, the drinks, the luxury, the company… the truth was that Valker enjoyed a good banquet. It was the closest thing he could experience to feeling normal and carefree for a spell, even if everyone there tended to look at him like they might inspect a Zerrikanian stallion. “I do,” he admitted.
“If you're not ready to move on just yet, then maybe you'd like to join me at this one? Unless you're starting to feel eager to be rid of me,” her voice was suddenly a low purr as she asked, laced with mischief. She looked ahead again, smiling as though she had a trick up her sleeve.
“If it's not too much trouble,” Valker said and inclined his head in gratitude, “I should very much like to. It will be… nice, I think. A change of pace. Thank you.” The intimate tone Avery's voice had taken on and the smirk on her face were a mild cause for alarm. “I trust I won't be the subject of one of your pranks?” he asked. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
It was at that point that her steps veered away from the Witcher as the path they were walking on began to fork, and she was slowly heading towards the left. “Oh I'll only have need to do that if you have a change of heart,” she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow before she had fully left his side. “Dress sharp, be timely… I'll be waiting.” And off she went, she wondered if he would appreciate the level of mystery she had left him with regarding the event, but she knew just how much a Witcher liked a hunt, this was just a different sort altogether. He'd figure it out, somehow.
The usual midnight blue battledress had been replaced by a brown doublet, the lapels stitched with pale beige felt, and a dash of ultramarine in the inside of the popped collar. Valker deliberately kept the top buttons undone, creating a deeper neckline to put his medallion proudly on display and reveal a few scars. Over his left shoulder hung a cape from an epaulet, his feet were clad in comfortable, tall boots of supple leather and his practical trousers replaced with poofy -- but very stylish -- pants. Truth be told, Valker fancied himself to be quite dashing, and he had even bothered to apply some oil to his beard.
He arrived at the residence of the Nilfgaardian ambassador, Var Attre, perfectly on time. A little early, even, but it was better to be safe than sorry when it came to events for which he did not carry his own invitation. He was not alone; others were already there, waiting for their own dates or just conversing amongst themselves before entering the fray, as it were. Valker kept an eye out for Avery while he sauntered over to join them.
It felt like it had been a long time since Avery had attended an event such as this, whereas truthfully they had occurred quite frequently. They all just seemed to blur and become one. The same music, wine, food, and usually many of the same people. It shouldn’t have felt too different to her element of being in courts and halls, but somehow being surrounded by nobility during their costly revelry was not all that fun for the sorceress. It always seemed that there was still a wall between she and them, that despite all of her successes she still sat on the outskirts of high society deep down. Some things she couldn’t shake off, afterall.
This evening's occasion may well have been the first that she had been looking forward to in a long while - and she attributed that to having asked Valker to join her. She’d at the very least have someone truly interesting to talk to. As well as that, it was always wonderful to have a chance to dress up and tonight she had. Her dress was shoulderless with sleeves that ran to her hands. It was so well fitting to her chest and torso, it was as if it had been painted on. Her breasts were given a plentiful amount of lift by the lacing of the corset, tied with a charcoal coloured ribbon in the centre. The pattern looked like the scales of a dragon, but it was merely fancy stitchwork which contrasted perfectly with the almost tapestry-esque embroidery of the triangular insert that ran the length of the skirt. As for the brooch, she had repurposed it for the evening as a hairpin to hold up her curls.
The sorceress spotted Valker walking towards the gate, he had been early it seemed - whereas she had been right on time, her own time, anyway. She walked alongside Celes who was also suitably dressed for the evening, long locks of auburn hair falling in waves around her over an emerald green velvet dress - the colours so perfectly suiting of the wearer. The younger sorceress raised an eyebrow as the Witcher came also to her sight, “so let me get this straight, I’m not allowed to flirt tonight, but you’re allowed to bring him?”
“Benefits of being your elder,” she said with a light shrug. “Besides, it's not what you think. Just because you are looking for something tonight, does not mean that I am.” She smiled and unlinked her arm from Celes, “now be a dear and find us some seats - and don't get distracted.”
As Celes parted, Avery continued in the direction of Valker her hands held together in front of her, as she came to closing the distance, she couldn't resist but remark on his choice of attire; “my my Witcher, don't you look dashing when you're not splattered with werewolf…” As he came into her view fully, she noted the colours that lined his shirt almost matched those of her skirt. “Well what do you know? We match,” her hand reached out delicately as she brushed her fingers against his collar, after that her eyes were drawn to the neckline, and what he had chosen to reveal before they snapped back up to his, and she gave a friendly smile.
There she was. Valker admired her dress, hair and makeup, his eyes lingering on the repurposed brooch for a second. “Great minds think alike, as I believe those Oxenfurt students like to say,” the witcher retorted and returned her smile with a rare one of his own. There was a glimmer of life to his eyes that was usually missing. To a stranger he would have simply looked like someone in an agreeable mood, but to people that knew him the difference would be night and day.
“You look beautiful,” he added with sincerity and offered Avery his arm. “Have you managed to shake off that student of yours or have I merely missed her in the crowd?”
She had to admit, it was nice to see him smile and as she took his arm, Avery tilted her head upwards and gave him a beaming smile in return. They looked quite the pair indeed, and Valker especially was turning many heads. “Thank you,” she said with a cheerful grin at his compliment as the two began to walk into the grounds. There was a coolness to the air, and the moon was full and iridescent, reflected so clearly on the surface of a still pond that it looked like a big pearl.
“Celes? She's here. I shall have to keep my eye on her… She has a lot to learn,” her smile faded and her face tensed at the thought. She really had left the girl to her own devices. That might prove to be a mistake… “She'll make her presence known soon enough.” Avery let it go with a soft laugh, “I should lighten up, this is a celebration after all.” In the quiet moment, she slowly scanned the crowd and recognised a few faces but there were many she did not.
Valker was silent for a spell while he drank in the sights, sounds and smells of the beautiful grounds of the Var Attre estate. Unlike Avery, the witcher was entirely among strangers, but since many of the other attendees took their time to look at him (even out of his armour and without his swords the viper eyes were unmistakable) he shamelessly stared right back. He made a game of trying to guess the status and positions of the people around him but quickly had to admit he knew too little about high society to be able to tell.
“A celebration, indeed,” Valker replied eventually and leaned in a little closer to speak in conspiratorial tones. “I hope it won't be a problem that I am totally unfamiliar with the baron in question.”
“Baron Artek Krych. He loves his horses and owns some of the finest racers around… The most famous and successful being a mare named Pie o My,” she chortled, voice soft and breathy in a recognitory response to him moving closer to her. “He enjoys music, so I expect there will be a range of bards tonight as well as an array of game meats to taste that he had brought from his own land. He has fine tastes, a typical Baron, really.” While she spoke she made note of Valker staring back out at those who looked at him first, it must be strange to be a Witcher here, to be looked at like something strange. She was reminded of the feeling of isolation she had tapped into on their last meeting. “That might help you, anyway. Just don’t make fun of his moustache whatever you do, Valker.” She stole something of a cheeky glance at him while she waited for him to register what she had said.
The witcher was listening along silently, his eyes wandering while Avery talked, until she warned him about the baron’s moustache. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised significantly higher than the other. “And here I thought people tried to avoid becoming stereotypes.” He was quite the avid reader and was well familiar with the moustache-twirling nobleman character that so often riddled fiction, either as a villain or as a bumbling nincompoop -- neither were positive. He cleared his throat and wiped his surprised expression off his face. “I suspect we are going to need something to drink, sooner rather than later. Agreed?”
“Where do you suppose such stereotypes come from in the first place?” She asked quietly with a smirk as they continued their slow walk through the grounds - it was beautiful and while busy with people, it was significantly quieter than inside from what Avery could gather as she looked through the windows. “I’m not so fond of these parties, but I do enjoy the opportunity to peruse nice places like this…” slowly, she tilted her head to the side until it almost rested on Valker’s shoulder. “Agreed on the drink, I feel sooner is best - what’s your poison, then?” Avery asked, the breathy voice gone and the pleasantry returned.
“Good point,” Valker conceded and followed Avery’s gaze around the estate. He, too, enjoyed the opportunity to observe how the wealthiest in this world decorated their homes and spent their days. It was enviable, in a way, though Valker was sure he would grow restless in a place like this before long. He had been on the Path for far too many decades to just settle down all of a sudden now. A tiger couldn’t change its stripes, after all. “I became quite the admirer of Sansretour chardonnay while I was in Toussaint,” he began and quickly realized how that made him sound. It wasn’t a bad thing, to appear cultured, but it was dishonest. “But that’s only recently. I’ve been a Kaedweni stout man all my life. And you?”
“Ahhh, that would be a chilled Mettina rose, or a glass of Erveluce,” she replied quickly without giving it too much thought. Really, she didn't even mind a homebrewed vodka but he needn't know that, and so she continued, “both of which they should have here, I'd bet they even have your stout… If you'll excuse me.” She removed her arm from Valker’s gracefully and took a step back. The heels of her strapped sandals tapped lightly on the cobblestone path, she hoped that the path wasn't going to give her any difficulty in her shoes later… “Don't go anywhere now,” she added with a sprinkling of humorous warning in her eyes, a brow raised as she turned toward to the direction of the bar, or to at least find a member of staff. It was also best to check on Celes too, she'd seen no sign of the girl yet.
Having observed the elder sorceress alight the path to collect drinks, the junior sorceress made her way across the lawns towards the now lone Witcher, her auburn tresses falling in long waves to the middle of her back, a drink held in her hand in a crystal flute - she pinched the stem delicately as she approached, her lids heavy, smile seductive and the scent of cloves lingering around her as an almost intoxicating aura. “Good to see you again Valker,” she said, speaking out to him to grab his attention. Her lips were painted a deep, sinful red. “I see you're enjoying the soiree so far…”
“Celes,” Valker said by way of greeting and inclined his head gracefully. He knew it was no coincidence that the younger woman chose to show up now. The look on her face and the sound of her voice all but confirmed that. “Avery is looking for you, I’m afraid you just missed her,” he said, feigning ignorance, and keeping his own expression neutral. He was curious to see what she would do.
“Oh, I thought she was going to fetch drinks? At least when she returns I'll be here… I'd best not wander off and look for her.” She smiled innocently, but the finger that was tracing lazily across her collarbones was anything but. “I never knew she had a friend who was a Witcher… Seems like you both know each quite well,” she commented suggestively, sipping from the glass to hide her smirk.
Valker’s eyes flitted down to her finger for a split second before coming back up to meet her gaze again. “Funny,” he said and stroked his beard with his left hand, planting his right hand on his hip, “because we’ve only met each other once before. She was filling me in about whose party this actually is and trying not to be obvious about it. I think that’s what you saw.” He paused for a second and tilted his head at Celes slightly, asking his next question bluntly and without pretense. “Do you spy on Avery often?”
Her response was a quiet and coy titter, “I don’t spy on her, ever. But what can I say? If a tall and handsome Witcher walks into Novigrad the same night we attend an important banquet… I might take to spying on him.” There was a quality to her words that almost curled her coquettish smile to a cunning smirk. “I have to make sure that nothing untoward happens to my mentor tonight - and that she doesn’t get caught in anything…” she did not finish her sentence, and instead stepped increasingly closer to Valker. He was far taller than her, and it was imposing but also incredibly electrifying.
So that’s how it was. “I see,” Valker said, taking his time to choose his words. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight on his back foot, utilizing his height to maintain some conversational distance between the two of them. Under normal circumstances he would most decidedly not be opposed to the advances of a beautiful redheaded woman, but these weren’t normal circumstances. He wasn’t sure why, considering he had no concrete reasons to feel this way, but he felt very strongly that he wanted to avoid doing something to negatively influence Avery’s perception of him. It was a strange realization. Why did he care?
“You think so lowly of me, Celes? That I might tempt your mentor into something untoward?” The witcher made a show of tutting, frowning and shaking his head. “I am but a lowly monster slayer. Avery’s invitation to tag along was an act of kindness, if I may be so frank. I’m afraid you have the wrong idea about me.”
“Oh, on the contrary I think somewhat highly of you, actually - that much is clear is it not? Slaying monsters and helping the helpless - noble really. Nothing lowly about that work.” She did back up from him, moving over to the railing of the wall, swaying her hips as she went - she could feel the sumptuous velvet brushing against the backs of her legs. “I don’t mean for us to get off on the wrong foot Valker,” Celes began as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned her back to him as if to just look out over the gardens. The dress was almost completely backless, and the image off her porcelain skin against the edges of the rich green fabric was striking, Especially with the line of delicate freckles that ran down her spine from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. “I apologise if you felt that way,” she finished, looking over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes and her mouth slightly open.
It was so transparent that it would’ve been just amusing, if she weren’t also so attractive. Valker was definitely going to need a drink or two (or three, or four…) to get through the evening, he suspected, and wondered what was holding Avery up. “Apology accepted,” he said and shrugged. “Tell me about your apprenticeship with Avery. When did that start, and how did you meet?”
The fact that he wasn’t responding was only making her want to try harder. Men (and the occasional women) never lasted this long once she had made advances. Now he was asking boring questions, questions that veered them away from the path she was trying to lead him down. She closed her mouth and looked back out over the crowds, properly this time. “Two months ago, I knew of her because of her past associations to Aretuza and for having hailed from Novigrad. I wanted a good mentor, I got one.” Her voice was curt all of a sudden. How dreadfully boring a question to ask, and her fingers tapped against the stone with her impatience. “And now it’s our turn…” her eyes widened, this could be a game after all… “Where do you come from?”
Valker had to suppress a smile when Celes told him two things about Avery he didn’t know yet. So this was her hometown? He wondered why she ever left it. Deciding to play along, for this game she wanted to play could be useful to him yet, he joined her by the railing, leaning against it, one leg casually crossed over the other, his body facing her. “Kerach,” he lied effortlessly, as he had done so many times before. The truth was that he had no idea. Bram had always refused to tell Valker where he’d picked him up. “Standard procedure,” the old witcher had gruffly said when asked about it. “To stop your stupid ass from trying to go back.”
“But that was a long time ago. Before you were born, I’d say. And you?” he asked. Valker knew he had to intersperse questions about Avery with questions about Celes herself, give her some false hope that he might be interested after all.
The red-head turned around, this time leaning back in a relaxed way, her elbows resting on the stone, her eyes following him as he drew nearer to her now. She blinked slowly at him, her long lashes fluttering. “Oxenfurt…” she said in a lower voice now that he was close once more, “can’t you tell by my free spirit?” The question was flirtatious, an invitation to see just how free-spirited she could be… She couldn’t decide whether to ask something crude or personal - it was too soon for crude, he’d only just come back to her after all, her gaze was drawn now to the scars that decorated his neckline - the slight glimpse of tanned flesh he was allowing her, she bit her lip and sidled closer to him, “what you do, it must be very dangerous… I think you’re very brave you know. Is it? Dangerous?”
As much as they had all hurt to receive, Valker could not deny the effectiveness of his scars on the ladies. They never failed to impress. He looked down at himself and shrugged, moving the wyvern medallion aside and tugging at the fabric of his doublet to give Celes a slightly better look -- he knew what he was doing. “I could feign modesty now,” he said and looked at Celes. She was very close to him now. Gods, she smelled good. Valker blinked and reminded himself not to get carried away. “But that would be a lie. Yes, it’s dangerous. That’s why we train our whole lives, why we undergo the Trial of the Grasses… and why you should always hire a professional.” He looked up and scanned the crowd while shaking his head, as if he was judging the people present and finding them all unworthy. “If you ever meet a man that says he can do a witcher’s job with a few sharp swords and a few good men, he’s lying -- or worse, a fool.”
He looked back down at Celes while straightening the lapels of his doublet and dropping the medallion back where it belonged. Peeking time was over. “What about you? What have you learned to do from Avery? Any specialties she’s passed on to you?”
She made all the signs of a woman seduced when he flashed more of his skin for her eyes. They widened, she took in a breath and found herself leaning in more, as if to inhale his scent - intoxicating. “It sounds it, I bet you’ve saved so many people with your strength… Mmmmm…” The realisation that she was slipping out of control hit her and she moved back, bringing the glass to her lips for another sip, a long one. She needed to cool down. She let him speak, and ask his question. A question that just annoyed her again. “The very basics, if that… At the rate she’s teaching me, I’ll have learned what she does by the time I’m 100 years old. She has me reading, practicing my speech… Fetching food for her cats! I picked her for a reason and she won’t even tell me how she does it.” Celes pouted, showing her youth and immaturity before downing the last of the contents of the glass.
Sensing an opportunity, Valker pressed on. “I sympathize. My first few years in the keep were the same. All the older boys were practicing swordplay against each other and I was stuck with the dummy every time,” he said. “Rite of passage, I think. What’s this mysterious skill that Avery is withholding from you, then?”
She nodded along with his anecdote, realising that she probably sounded ungrateful and childish…”Well, you know, she reads emotions but it’s more than that, she can conjure up projections of memories - bring what’s inside your mind…” she lifted her finger from the stone and slowly moved it towards Valker’s face before she gently pressed his forehead, “she can make it real. Or, make it seem real…” Celes abruptly stopped what she was doing, she had divulged things about her mentor to someone she’d just met, and that had been a lesson in things to not do. Lesson number one in fact. “Shit, I shouldn’t be talking about her like this.”
Valker frowned when she pressed a finger against his forehead, apprehensive about what was to come next. When nothing happened, he was relieved. He didn’t relish the idea of someone entering his mind without an invitation. Or with an invitation, for that matter. His mind was his fortress. “My bad,” he said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to make you divulge things you weren’t supposed to. I assure you I’ve already forgotten everything you just said.”
Artek Krych was an important man and he knew it. The turnout for his party, graciously hosted by the Nilfgaardian ambassador -- “great people, really, so civilized, good jockeys too!” -- pleased him and he strutted about the premises with a smug smile, mostly hidden beneath the prodigious moustache he so dearly liked to stroke thoughtfully. That’s what he thought it looked like, anyway. He fluttered from guest to guest, accepting compliments and well wishes with grace and laughing affably at the various jokes his guests told me. The reality was, of course, that he appeared somewhat lecherous, and that his bellowing, chortling laughter put off more than one attendee from her snack or drink. Not that anybody would dream of telling him that.
Meandering past the desserts table brought a particularly beautiful guest in his vision, however, and he rubbed his hands together, beady eyes twinkling. Avery Vexx, the sorceress herself. She looked positively irresistible in her dress and he stepped up to her with only a half-hearted attempt at disguising the glances he stole at her prodigious bossom. “Avery! So good of you to come,” Artek said and spread his arms out wide. “Do you like my party?”
She was on her fourth profiterole when he breezed past her, the Baron himself. Her eyes were wide, as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Soon, she settled that feeling of guilt when she felt him look at her chest, the intense feeling of lust was all around him. He was certainly enjoying the party, she doubted he cared if she did, but for the sake of diplomacy, she licked the chocolate frosting from her finger tip and replied as politely as she could, “yes of course, it’s a truly special affair!” His eyes were still down there as opposed to on her own eyes, and so she saw fit to narrow them and they took on a very serpentine quality as she did so. “It seems to be moving into full swing now, I suspect the bards will be coming out soon, no?”
“Ah, now now,” Artek said and wagged a finger admonishingly, “must you already spill my secrets? Too sharp you are, too sharp indeed! Though I suppose that is your job as a sorceress, no?” He laughed at his own joke, if it could be called that, and he abruptly put an arm around Avery’s shoulder and pulled her into a camraderely embrace. “Look at them,” he said and gestured widely at the other people in the spacious manor, talking and drinking amongst themselves. “This is probably the best party they’ve ever been to! Peasants, bah. Not like you or I though, eh? We know all about the finer things in life.” He paused, unsure where he was going, and finished his train of thought with a charming -- or moderately frightening -- grin. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, you know. You come highly recommended. I have a matter I want to discuss with you, something I need your help with.” He stared into her eyes now, his instincts as a conman overpowering his desires as a man in order to help him gauge her reaction. “But enough of that now. First we must enjoy ourselves, eh? Here,” the baron said and stopped one of the servants to bark orders at him. The boy returned post-haste with a bottle of expensive erveluce. “Take this. Something tells me you’re a woman of taste. I must know what you think of it when you’re finished with it,” Artek said and winked, barely able to suppress his chuckles of anticipation.
Why did this man talk so much? It made a change from some of the politicians she’d been around, but his talk just reeked of bullshit. Or was that some kind of expensive and obnoxious cologne he’d slathered himself in? Whatever it was it was overpowering her senses, and when she grabbed her into his embrace she cringed, he was so quick and rough with it, for a brief moment she feared the ribbon was going to snap on her corset. Maybe that’s what he wanted. Still, she stood there and took it, not one to cause a scene at a banquet - especially not with the guest of honour himself.
How little he knew about her past, it was a bold assumption of him to make that she knew about the finer thing indeed… That said, he was holding out a nice bottle of chilled Evreluce. His offer was worth thinking about, but not if he was going to be this lascivious. She could really use the crowns, and the Baron had a lot of them. Perhaps she could seek the advice of Valker… She took the bottle with a smile. Finally the Baron had slowed down to catch a breath and she could speak. Once more, politely, she addressed him, “your words are very kind Baron, I am pleased to know that you have heard such good things about me - it would please me also to assist you with your affairs indeed. I am glad to be of service, and I’ll accept this wine as a deposit shall I?”
“Good, good, very good,” the baron said, nodding along to his own words, his rotund cheeks glistening in all their oily glory in the candlelight of the hall. “And yes, yes! By all means. Before you go and enjoy that wine, there are a few people I want you to meet. Come with me.” He took her by the arm, lacking the decency to merely offer his own and wait for Avery to accept, and dragged the sorceress along on a tour of meeting a string of utterly boring but, unfortunately, important people. It was rather obvious that the baron was showing off the woman on his arm and he did not fail to mention that she was helping him with “something important” at any opportunity, garnering the desired -- but ultimately just polite -- oooh’s and aaah’s from his guests.
After far too many minutes of obliviously awkward introductions, Artek had run out of important guests. “That was all of them, I think,” he mumbled to himself before looking back up at Avery with a smile. “Thank you for your patience, very gracious of you! Now go and enjoy yourself, eh? I shall fetch you later to discuss these matters in more detail.” He bowed as well as he could and kissed one of Avery’s hands before leaving her and snatching up the first drink he found. Grifting was hard work.
She felt as though she’d just been ripped through the inside of a hurricane. She daren’t head back inside to find the stout for Valker, lest she run into the Baron again. Feeling flustered and dizzy, she made her way back across the path, stopping by a waiter on her way to collect two glasses. This was starting to feel strange to her, making her way past couples who were doing the same thing - drinking wine together and just talking. Did she see Valker that way? She hadn’t known him long enough that was for sure - but maybe tonight it was fun to pretend.
The smile came back to her face as she turned the corner, expecting to see Valker waiting by the wall for her - only she saw Celes first. She saw Celes looking out over the garden below, and Valker looking at Celes. Oh, she thought to herself, deflating for just a moment, before she picked herself back up again, feeling rather silly for having gotten swept up so quickly and easily…
“No stout I’m afraid,” she confessed with a shrug, handing a glass to Valker. “Sorry it took so long, had a really strange — never mind.”
“Not to worry,” Valker replied and looked at the bottle of erveluce that Avery brought with her, “Celes had plenty of interesting things to -- hold on, isn’t this very expensive?” He mouthed the year of the vintage and raised an eyebrow at Avery. “You had a really strange what? Go on, I’m curious,” he said, immediately ending his conversation with Celes. Something about Avery had changed, he could tell. Had he overdone it with her mentee? Valker shot the younger sorceress a sidelong glance and quietly hoped that she would excuse herself for a moment.
The look did not go unnoticed by Avery, who really rather felt like opening the bottle all of a sudden. She placed her glass on the wall, and without need for a corkscrew she tapped her fingers against the neck of the bottle, forcing out the cork with a quick spell. She could immediately smell the wine, and without waiting to let it breathe, she poured a serving of it into her glass.
Celes, on the other hand, looked back at Valker - expecting that he might actually tell Avery what she had been saying. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know that wasn’t going to happen, and she also wanted some of the incredibly expensive wine… She held out her glass to Avery, who obliged.
“Strange, yes. I just had a tour and met some of the guests. The Baron walked me around, actually.” She took a quick sip of the wine, it was as refreshingly cool as she remembered and she gave a content sigh. “It’s beautiful—“ with the taste of the wine on her lips, she forgot what she had been so concerned about, and she fell back into her usual relaxed state.
After Valker's own glass had been filled he used the time gained by taking a measured sip and evaluating the wine as he had seen the sommeliers of Toussaint do by inspecting Avery more closely. Whatever it was that he had seen before was gone now. Perhaps it was just the baron that had had that effect on her. “Very good,” he declared and had another, larger gulp, betraying his real nature as a man of fieldwork. Thinking quickly, he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Celes told me that you're from Novigrad.” The comments about the nature of her powers were confidential, but Valker assumed that her birthplace was an innocent enough topic. “I had no idea. What was it like, growing up in the city?”
Hearing Valker ask her about her childhood, even as innocently as he had done, was jarring. It took her by surprise and before she could answer, she brought the glass to her lips again and took another healthy swig. “It’s true that I was born in Novigrad. Growing up was…” the moment of hesitation was enough to suggest it wasn’t something she talked about often, or liked to. “I had a nice childhood here, I remember that Novigrad was thriving, the streets were bustling and people were generally happy and friendly.” She drank again.
“Celes, I believe that the bard will be arriving soon, in the manor there is a spread of food if you’re hungry.” No eye contact was made between the two of them, nor words. Celes made herself scarce for the time being.
Valker exhaled slowly, relieved to be alone with Avery again, and gave her a look that could almost be construed as sheepish. “She appeared the second you were gone. She's… well, you know what young girls are like. I have to confess that I may have taken advantage in order to obtain some information from her.” He took another sip and looked at Avery over the rim of his glass, his eyes striking in the moonlight. “Three guesses what about.”
Oh she knew what Celes was like alright, the way that Valker talked about her was interesting. She was a pretty young thing, reckless and brazen in her approaches. She raised an eyebrow at his confession though, that was surprising. It sounded like the sort of thing a man would do. “I’ll have to implore you not to do that again,” she uttered, unimpressed by it. She also didn’t feel like a guessing game, “I don’t need to know Valker. If you are interested in Celes, she would be more than happy to…” Her glass was empty and so she reached for the bottle to refill it during the silence. Unaware she’d misunderstood what he was actually trying to communicate to her.
The witcher frowned. This wasn't working. “I was asking her about you,” Valker said bluntly. “She wouldn't have it, I showed her a scar or two to… throw her a bone, as it were. I'm not interested in her.” He drained the rest of his glass in one go and sighed. It was disappointing that she'd misunderstood him, that she'd think him so crass. Without another word, he held out his glass for her to refill.
Avery laughed, it was either the wine taking hold, or she found it genuinely amusing that he wasn’t interested in her. “You’d be about the only person in Novigrad who isn’t interested in her. You know, if you wanted to know something about me there was an easier way to get that information…” she lifted the bottle towards him, tilting it in order to fill his glass again. “Can’t promise I’d tell you anything though.”
“I know.” Valker stared at her quizzically. Was she playing a game that he wasn't wise to? “That's why I asked Celes,” he explained. “You're the--”
He was forced to shut his mouth when they had to make way for two servants carrying a table somewhere. “Nevermind,” Valker mumbled and reacquainted himself with the bottom of his glass. Fighting a cockatrice was easier than navigating this.
“You should really try to savour the taste of this wine, you said it yourself - it’s expensive,” Avery commented with a small smile, sensing a small amount of frustration from him, it wasn’t too often she read him. It was hard, he had a powerfully strong mind - that and he was so calm that it was nice to just enjoy his company. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you, about earlier.” She lifted her glass to her lips, watching his eyes, focussing on his pupils.
“Right, sorry,” the witcher said and slowed down on the drinking. It was very tasty but he found himself wishing for the familiarity of a stout. “I'm listening.”
Before she got the chance to tell him about the Baron's proposal, there was a loud crash and clatter over to their left, followed quickly by the sound of drunken nobles cheering and jeering. When she looked, Avery gathered one of them had fallen and broken a large pot. A definite reason for cheer. She rolled her eyes, suddenly a fire behind them. “I hate these events, always ends up like this…” Forgetting her own words to Valker about the wine, she too finished her glass quickly - not realising the hypocrisy of her getting drunk as a way to handle other drunks.
“They'll take it to the streets next, go out in their group and find someone to harass… Urgh,” she groaned.
“Do you want me to do something about it?” Valker asked, looking back at Avery after shaking his head at the drunk nobles. Truth be told, it reminded him a lot of the drinking sessions between himself and his brothers when they were holed up for the winter, but at least they didn't have anyone to harass up there aside from themselves. “Never taken an intimidation contract on a bunch of drunkards before, but there's a first time for anything.” He sounded perfectly sincere, but the glint in his eyes and the small smile around his lips revealed that he was joking. The wine was slowly kicking in.
“What’s this I see? Valker of Kerach, making jokes?” she gave a playful scoff before nuding his arm with her elbow, the displeasure faded from her expression. “My you've changed since I saw you last,” her voice had softened towards the end, to be genuinely sincere in her meaning. He really had, or maybe it was the wine. She took quite a long look at the smile almost hidden by his beard. Maybe she had gazed at him too long, and so she tilted her head upwards to look into the nights sky instead.
“It helps that I'm not working right now,” Valker said. When Avery looked away from him he finished his glass and internally congratulated himself for turning the situation around after all. But what was he even trying to do? It wasn't just sex he was after -- Celes would have been the far easier option. Ridiculously easy, even. Valker scratched the back of his head and let the silence between them stretch on for a bit before he gestured towards the bottle of erveluce. “Any left?”
There was enough left to split between them two of them, they’d gotten through it quite quickly and Avery could feel the tingling warmth of it on her cheeks, the light kind of dizziness that accompanied alcohol. She was quite enjoying the night now, the setting seemed more beautiful with her somewhat blurring sight, everything appeared softer. As night had carried on the cicadas and crickets had come out to chatter in the bushes and somewhere inside she could finally hear performance music, as opposed to the lute and drums that had been providing a backdrop for dancing.
Alcohol also had the ability to allow one to speak candidly, and oftentimes say too much, which was precisely what was about to happen now that Avery had refilled both of their glasses with the last of the wine. “I often wondered when it was I’d see you again, I was surprised it was here.”
Valker swilled the contents of his glass thoughtfully. “I always assumed it would be when I would have need of your skills,” he said and took another sip. It was growing on him and he desired his Kaedweni stout less and less. “To call on that favour you owe me. There would probably have been danger and hard work involved. This is much more pleasant.” After a brief pause he added: “Thank you for inviting me.”
“That's what I mean, I owe a debt to you,” her eyes met his again, the golden shadow on her lids sparkling under the moonlight, her lashes long. She blinked slowly, as one does following a drink. “This ominous favour I owe to you... You make it sound like an adventure now.” She pressed a finger to her lips in thought before lowering her voice and looking at him in a demure fashion - lips pouting and eyes alight with a flirtatious warmth, “I very much enjoyed our last one. Danger and all.”
Before he even became consciously aware of what he was doing, Valker had taken a small step closer to Avery, his own eyes on hers. The emerald and amethyst were so expressive, so full of warmth, that it was impossible to look away. He briefly lamented that his own cat eyes were the way they are, even though their stark edge was useful in practically every other situation. “I remember how that werewolf was a split second away from leaping up at you and tearing you to shreds,” the witcher said, his voice matching hers, “but you were ready for him. I was impressed.” He never would have admitted that without wine. His heart paced nervously in his chest. “Not a lot of people can stare down danger like that.”
Avery began to twist on the ball of her foot coyly as he drew closer, gently swaying with the motion. His stare was intense and penetrating but she couldn't look away. “It takes a lot more than a big bad wolf to scare me, Valker…” she spoke slowly now, the atmosphere suddenly palpable. “I'm glad I got to look at that trophy head everyday,” she admitted, her hands found their way to the hair that framed her face and she started to wind the curls around and around her index finger.
Was it just the alcohol and general setting of the evening, or was there something more there? She found him attractive and mysterious, that much was true… She didn't get to think for too much longer. The two were interrupted by Celes as she made her way back over, panting as if she had hurried out, “they're bringing in the feast now - we should take to our table.”
Avery must have taken a little too long to take to her place, as the young mage made sure to take the seat beside the Witcher. This left Avery the seat beside Celes - and not wanting to make a scene, or make the girl move, she allowed it. The action had definitely rubbed her the wrong way. Why did she allow it? She closed her eyes tightly as if to banish the thoughts, to quell the onslaught of overthinking. It was only a seat. Maybe Celes was just trying prevent Avery from giving way to desire tonight, something that when she really thought about it, she did not want to do.
Typical. Valker picked up on the fact that Avery said nothing about Celes’ decision to plant herself in the middle between them and kept his own words of reprimand to himself. He decided to focus on the food and the drink on the table, hoping that indulging some would lift his spirits, and was pleasantly surprised to find a bottle of Kaedweni stout amongst the selection of alcohol available. He leaned forward to look past Celes and raised an eyebrow at Avery, bottle of stout in hand, before he smiled and poured himself a large glass. The woman seated opposite him frowned at the sight of his beverage filled to the brim and Valker shrugged. “I’m a witcher,” he explained, and the woman merely tutted before looking away. “Fine, be that way,” he muttered beneath his breath and took a long, deep swig. He was going to need it now.
More out of politeness than anything, he turned to face Celes -- and, by extension, Avery behind her. “What had you so out of breath, Celes?” he asked conversationally.
As both Celes and Valker poured themselves drinks, Avery spotted a bottle of sweet honey mead amongst the offerings. She was unable to resist it, and so that’s what she took to accompany her meal. Celes, on the other hand, continued with wine. She grinned suggestively when she was spoken to and Avery glared. “Oh, I just dashed from one end of the manor to the other so that we could get our seats before someone else did. This is the front of the house, best for watching the performance.” She sipped from her glass, once again using it to hide her smile.
The red-head brought the beverage back down to the table, she couldn’t help but prod in return, “I could ask what you were up to Witcher, you two looked like you were getting close. I recall you telling me you were up to nothing untoward tonight.”
At that, Avery brought her mug to her lips, picked up her fork from its place and began twirling it between her fingers.
“You’re flushed,” Valker replied coldly. “You’re breathing fast, your heart is still racing, and your lipstick isn’t nearly as vibrant as it was before. And that smell…” He trailed off and shook his head slightly. “Pheromones. Don’t try to lie to a witcher. It doesn’t work.”
“Didn’t lie. Just skipped over that part, that’s private.” Celes sounded almost smug. Valker had sensed that she’d been up to no good, maybe he was thinking about it, and the look she turned to give him was as inviting as she could make it. Under the table, she made sure to brush her thigh against his, accidentally, of course.
“Please,” Avery interrupted, the fork was placed back down onto the table with just enough force to signify her annoyance. The conversation had taken a turn that she wasn’t impressed with. It had made her decidedly uncomfortable, actually. “We’re at dinner, let’s talk about something else.”
Celes sighed, stroking the stem of her wine glass again as she took it upon herself to be the one that moved the conversation; “so tell me Witcher, what are you really doing in Novigrad?” The question seemed to interest Avery too, who leaned her head over Celes to listen to his answer, and also to watch him — looking for anything else that might indicate further information about his recent travels — and future plans.
As much as her behavior annoyed him, the quality of her Celes’ sultry look and the brush of her thigh against his would make a succubus proud and the witcher sought comfort and distraction in his glass for a moment while Avery reigned in her student. He looked back up when she asked him what he was doing in Novigrad and he sighed. An idea came to him and he leaned forwards, motioning for both Celes and Avery to come closer. “You two can keep a secret, right?”
The young mage did not need to be told twice, she sidled right up to Valker, her thigh once again brushing him under the table. She cast a careful glance to Avery who seemed far more interested and lost in his eyes to have noticed… Her eyes were glassy too, she was drunk. Celes let her body press against him, she did not back off. He had wanted her closer after all. The two women looked at each other in regards to his question before nodding in his direction, both smiling, both curious.
“Alright,” Valker said and cleared his throat. He wanted to send some kind of signal to Avery that what he was about to say was total poppycock but with Celes practically rubbing off on him, that wasn’t really possible without giving it away. He just had to trust that the elder sorceress was keen enough to realize that he was teasing her mentee. “Maybe you can actually help me. There are… fears, suspicions, rumors, that Novigrad has been infiltrated by a very dangerous monster.” He lowered his voice into practically a whisper. “A higher vampire, capable of moving among us unnoticed. They look just like an ordinary person until their true form is revealed, which they only do at their convenience. Blood is like booze to them and they are most drawn to it during a full moon.” He looked between Celes and Avery, the implication obvious; it was a full moon that night. “Where better to find unsuspecting victims, clean victims, free of disease or warts, than at a banquet attended by nobles and notables?”
He let his words hang in the air. “Keep a sharp eye out, you two. If you see anyone behaving suspiciously, let me know. And you, Celes…” Valker had to suppress a smirk, finally getting to the point of all this, “should probably avoid… well, you know. Being alone with anyone.”
Avery could tell that his story was not true, and she had to turn her face away so as not to start laughing. To see Valker trying a prank was more amusing than the prank itself. Was this his own way of trying to impress a master trickster? By playing her game? She brought her hand to her lips and closed her eyes. She could feel Celes growing tense beside her, wrapping her arms around her chest as if to shield herself.
“I see…” she finally said, sounding equal parts bewildered and fearful. “You haven’t caught him or seen him have you?” She asked, her eyes flitting between Avery and Valker both.
Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to Avery, was Valker playing this prank to keep Celes near him? To scare her so she would stay by his side and be prevented from flirting with any more of the guests? Surely not - after all, he’d said he wasn’t interested in the girl. Her expression grew tense and she bit down on her lip, holding her mug in both hands in front of her face. She’d rather not think of that, but she couldn’t help but also notice the close proximity that Celes had to Valker. Avery could hold her own in an intellectual debate, but on sexual prowess and willingness to be so… like that, it seemed that Celes had her beat.
“No, and I don’t expect that to happen tonight,” Valker said ruefully. “My presence here is just as a deterrent. Any vampire would think twice about striking with a witcher in the area. I just hope it’s enough.”
That said, he leaned back and broke the spell of physical contact with Celes. “Go on, pretend everything is normal,” he said and motioned at Celes for sit straight again. He met Avery’s gaze over the rims of their respective beverage containers and, quite possibly for the first time in a decade, the witcher winked.
Celes did as she was asked and she straightened herself up in her seat, her eyes still rapidly scanning the room. “Well in that case I’m glad you’re here…” she said with a long sigh, a smarter girl might have put the pieces together and realised that he was being playfully deceitful, but not Celes. Avery on the other hand, had put the pieces together - just the wrong ones, or in the wrong order. It wasn’t what Valker had intended, but she surely felt slighted by it. She would not stand in the way of the two of them, however. They had a connection, and even when Valker winked, she just returned it with one of her own, raising her mug as if to toast to his prank with her approval.
Satisfied that his bid to put an end to Celes’ scandalous behavior, which had annoyed and unimpressed Avery so, worked out and garnered Avery’s approval, Valker finished the rest of his glass and poured himself another one. It had been a while since he had been this drunk, but what better way to celebrate such good company? He deserved the chance to let loose every so often, he thought.
But it quickly became apparent to his still very sharp senses that Avery wasn’t as pleased as he might have hoped. Valker had difficulty looking at her without making it obvious to Celes he was deliberately staring past her head so he slumped back in his chair a little and filled his plate with food, brooding on what went wrong.
Avery looked at the display of food, there looked to be some pheasant roast which she took a serving of, as well as a pouring bowl of some kind of berry sauce. Having picked her vegetables, and a delicate serving of the meat she proceeded to pour over the sauce, recognising the scent as cranberry laced with fennel and something floral. She poured what would be considered too much for any regular palette, but she liked things to be sweet. Even so, she really only picked at it slowly - taking more to the honey mead. Her eyelids were actively drooping now, and she quietly swayed in her seat.
Beside her, Celes was less interested in the food and far more interested in satisfying a different hunger. With Avery seemingly becoming as sauced as her plate, Celes’s hand reached under the table and she placed it on Valker’s thigh, giving him a squeeze - he seemed to be in another world and she wanted his attention. “Witcher, you should stay alert, just in case…” she looked at him with doe-like eyes, her chin tilting into her chest, her fingers stroking his leg out of sight.
Valker looked up, almost startled by the sudden touch, and frowned at Celes while he tried to focus on what she was saying. The first bottle of stout was empty and he had opened a second. “Alert, yes, of course,” he muttered and made a show of looking about the room. It was only then that he realized that the young woman was still touching his leg -- stroking it, even. He glanced at Avery behind her and was disheartened to see that the sorceress appeared to have lost all interest in him. But Celes hadn’t. Not at all. He turned his attention back to her, to the faux innocent look she was giving him, and he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine. Wouldn’t it be nice to end in a tangle of limbs with someone and forget this failure of a night?
She could sense the thoughts of lust emanating from Celes. The girl had not been working hard enough to strengthen her mind and protect herself. Avery shook her head and placed her elbow down onto the hard wood of the table with more of a thump than she had intended, resting her head against her open palm. She did not have to sit for this way for too long, from behind her came a tap on the shoulder that jolted her out of the stupor.
“Miss Vexx, I’ve been sent to collect and bring you to the Baron now - to discuss your business.” He was a smiling, and well-postured servant, one hand now behind his back, the other gesturing towards the hallway and stairs. Avery looked down at her plate awkwardly, it was still rather full of food, and noticing this the servant chuckled; “he has brought a more pleasant menu for your meeting, and more of the Evreluce.”
She wasn’t going to leave the honey mead that was for sure, and as she rose from her seat she skulled the remained of the mug, placing it back down on the table. She’d stood too fast, and she blinked quickly to regain her equilibrium, gripping the back of her chair for good measure. Before she would leave, she took a step towards Valker, “my apologies. I hope this won’t take long, I’ll be back when I can.” She managed to conjure up one of her affable and warm smiles for him. “Celes, stay sharp and don’t scamper off…” she patted the shoulder of her student before finally she was ushered down the hall by the servant.
“But what if the baron is the vampire?” is what Valker would have said if he hadn’t caught himself in time. He closed his mouth again, momentarily confused by himself, and by the time he’d properly remembered that the higher vampire was just his own invention Avery was already gone. He chuckled at his own expense and partook of some more stout. When he put the glass back down, Celes was there, eyes fixed on him.
“I thought she liked me,” Valker blurted out. Immediately, his eyes went wide and he covered his mouth. “Don’t tell her I said that,” he added in a low hiss.
The opportunity was there at last. Celes didn’t stop to wonder why Avery was meeting the Baron, and if there was any foul play there, she was too caught up in Valker. A good student would have been suspicious, and cease all activity until her mentor had returned - but Celes was not a good student, nor a good friend. As evidenced by the hand that crept further up Valker’s leg. She was barely gone, and Celes had dragged her chair and closed the distance between the two of them. “Maybe she did, but clearly she came here with a motive…” She was already writing the narrative in her head, she just had to hope that Valker was easy to convince.
The mage picked up her glass and took a tiny sip of it before leaning back in the chair - letting her hair slip over the back of her shoulders, the bare flesh of her chest that the dress allowed to be seen was on display now. “I’m sorry that you’re hurt, I won’t tell her - I promise.”
That prompted a frown from the witcher. He threw back the last remnants of the stout in his glass and sidled even closer to Celes, gesturing for her to lean in again, unable to hide the look he stole at her breasts. “Motive?” he asked softly, his eyes moving back up and watching hers intently. Even inebriated, they were piercing and they glowed faintly in the atmospheric lighting of the dining hall.
“Oh but of course… The Baron has power and influence and wealth. All the things that someone born in Silverton can only dream of.” Celes watched as Valker’s eyes peered at her breasts. Good. She began to run her finger up and down the length of the deep v of the dress. She also moved closer to him as he had demanded. “It’s said that making love to a sorceress is, well, magical, for want of a better phrase. What better currency to tempt him with?” The young mage moved closer to him still, her face drawing to his neck as she whispered, her breath warm on his skin. “It won’t be long now, he’ll have her on her knees I’d bet...” Celes wanted Valker’s thoughts of Avery to be marred, but she also wanted to arouse him. It would be all too easy, she’d been working him up all night — even if he didn’t realise it.
Valker bit his lip and cursed under his breath. That was more in line with the things he’d always heard about sorceresses. The alcohol and the rich smell of cloves, combined with the pheromones he’d mentioned before, worked hard to cloud Valker’s mind and he found himself believing every word Celes said. Why did it hurt him to think of Avery doing something like that? They weren’t together, they hadn’t even kissed. Why should he care? And he should have known better, anyway. He was just a witcher. Valker had nothing to offer someone that desired influence and wealth. Maybe all that talk about ‘adventures’ was just something Avery would have liked to do with him as a diversion. His hand found the small of Celes’ back. “Thanks for telling me,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. “Almost made a fool of myself. You’re nice.” He was slurring his words now and his eyes were heavy-lidded. “I like you.”
The feeling of his hand on her back practically made her purr. It was rumoured that the touch of a Witcher had a certain… quality about it, and now she knew that to be true. For if men dreamt of bedding sorceresses, Celes dreamt of bedding a Witcher, it didn't matter who. She brazenly placed her hand on his chest, fingers grasping at his shirt. “I like you too,” she confessed, right into his ear - but it was a sinful whisper. “I should be leaving but… I'm frightened of what may be hiding in the dark…”
That wasn’t the first time a woman had used that line on him. “Oh, master witcher, can’t you walk me to my home?” Valker knew exactly what Celes was after. He leaned back a little so that he could look her in the eyes. She really was quite pretty, and that hair… “Have no fear,” he mumbled, his lips close to hers. “I’ll see you in bed safely -- I mean, home safely. The vampire won’t dare attack you while I’m there.” Any voices of opposition in his mind were long ago silenced by booze and frustration at his own failings. “Lead the way.”
A wicked smile took over her face and she rose from her seat, taking Valker by the hand to do exactly as he had asked. She took him from the dining hall and towards the exit and off into the night.
Avery had been sat waiting for some time, for a man so keen to see her he was hardly being timely himself. The room which she was taken too was exactly what she would have pictured. Gaudy, clashing colours and velvet furnishings, even gaudier portraits lining the walls. There was a large window with a balcony that overlooked the grounds too. As she peered down she could see the pond, still reflecting the full moon perfectly. She recognised the spot where she had been stood with Valker too and she thought on the quietly intimate moment they had shared with a smile. She hoped that this meeting wouldn't take too long, despite his apparent fondness for Celes she was still eager to speak with him again before the night was through.
It must have been fifteen minutes of waiting and pacing before the door finally opened and the Baron joined her at last.
He was utterly sloshed. Artek stumbled into the room and would have fallen flat on his face if it weren’t for the liquor cabinet that he grabbed on to. It held his weight, fortunately, and he scrambled back to his full height, laughing rambunctiously as he did so. “Wahey! What a party! Who are you?” he asked, squinting at Avery. “Oh! Avaline! Adrianne! Damnit, woman, what’s your name? Avery, that’s the one.” He laughed again, patting himself on his prodigious belly, and staggered over to where she was standing. “Still as beautiful as ever, eh? So supple, so plump, just delicious. Mhmm, I could just eat you right now. Anyway, anyway, sit down, have a seat, sit,” Artek rambled on and pointed at the chair opposite his desk before making his way to his own and slumping down in it.
It was safe to say that she did not appreciate his choice of awkward compliments, and it showed with a scornful look. Not that he'd have noticed, he was drunker than she. In fact the anger that bubbled inside of her was almost enough to sober her. “Yes, thank you for that,” was her cold response, she felt that she wouldn't need to take her seat, the way things were going made her wonder if this was a genuine request after all. She was not about to be rude, so she sat - on the edge of the seat. “Baron, you'll have to excuse me but what is this business - will this be better discussed come morning when we are both… Less inebriated?”
“No, no, that would -- no,” he said with as much certainty as his flappy drunk-mouth could muster. “What do you think the erveluce was for? I have a -- hicc -- a modest proposal. It pays well. In fact, you get to name your price. Ha! Isn’t that generous?” Artek did his very best to meet Avery’s gaze but his eyes insisted, entirely through no fault of his own, in being cross-eyed enough to conveniently and independently land on where her dress playfully hid her nipples from sight. “Won’t take long,” he said, the first self-aware thing he’d managed all night.
She was getting annoyed, this felt like the cherry on top of the cake that had been a shit night. As his eyes landed once more on her breasts she folded her arms across them and cleared her throat. “Then let's discuss the details of the proposal, then I can name my price.”
An unsanity grin crept across his countenance. “They say all manner of things about sorceresses. I want to see if some of them are true.” Artek took a deep breath and blurted out his next few words. “I wish to bed you, Avery, and for you to confirm it after the fact when asked.” It was more coherent than he would have been able to come up with in the moment; the man had clearly been practicing that particular phrase. “Now name your price.”
Her jaw almost hit the floor, and her suspicions were confirmed. Had things have turned out differently, and she wasn’t already feeling soured and not to mention drunk, Avery would have used the silence to think up a spectacular way to humiliate him. But all she could really think of, was how she just wanted to get out, find Celes and Valker, and continue their evening elsewhere.
Slowly she rose from her chair, her eyes burning daggers at the Baron, who was looking spectacularly smug with himself. “I am not a product to be bought by a man with more money than grace.” She felt angry at herself, angry at him, angry at Novigrad even. Every time she came here she felt off her game, unlike herself, and it was for that reason and that reason alone that this had even gone as far as it had.
She lifted her right hand, and pointed it in his direction before speaking her incantation in the Elder Speech, ”dearme.” Baron Artek Krych’s face hit the desk with an obnoxiously loud thud as he was hit with a powerful wave of magic that sent him right to sleep. It was for the best.
She made her way out of the room with long, purposeful strides. It was definitely time to leave now, and as she rounded the corner to the dining hall she glanced over the heads of the remaining guests, only to see that Celes and Valker’s chairs were empty. She nodded to herself, feeling less angry and more foolish now, the same feeling of deflation taking over her body again. Her fingers twisted around her loose curls once more and she pursed her lips to the side of her mouth before heading towards the door, alone. “Fucking Novigrad,” she cursed under her breath.
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