A guard dropped to his knee, his armour clanging against the polished stone floor. The sound echoed through the room, "Lady Farington! We have brought you a witcher!"
Enormous windows that stretched from floor to ceiling allowed the sunlight to pour into the room. The city below sprawled out beyond the panes of glass. It seemed almost alive. A constant wriggling thing that pulsed with trade and commerce.
At a rosewood desk a woman was seated. The guard's call prompted her to look up from her work. An ornate fountain pen was gently placed in its penpot. She was beautiful. Undeniably so. Auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing doe-like eyes of glimmering emerald. Her lips curved into an inquisitive smile.
"A witcher. And perhaps an apprentice too? Welcome noble sirs to Begar, I am Penelope, it is my honour to nurture this city." As she spoke, she rose elegantly from her chair. The heels of her shoes tapped crisply against the stone floor.
Penelope, or Lady Farington, halted a few paces in front of Radkin. Her skin was supple and glowing, noticeably free of the blush or foundation commonly worn by noble ladies. She stretched out a delicate hand to Radkin. A simple and unadorned band of gold encircled an emerald on her littlest finger, "It is an honour to meet you sir witcher."
For a moment Radkin studied her slender wrist and delicate fingers. Then with a smile he bent forwards and planted a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, "The honour is all mine."
With an almost aristocratic elegance, Radkin gently drew his hand away from Lady Farington's. He straightened his back, bringing himself high above the city's queen. Her head barely reached his shoulders, "Your guards said that there was work for us here."
Lady Farington smiled. Her eyes shimmered in the light as she cast her gaze skywards to the reliefs of battle and triumph that adorned the ceilings.
She began to speak. Her voice was melancholy, "This city was once my father's. He spent hours teaching me by candelight. All the success, all the prosperity, I learnt it all from him."
After a moment's pause she lowered her gaze. It settled on Radkin. There was an undisguised sorrow behind her emerald eyes. "And now it all stands to fall to ruin. There is a monster, witcher. It has killed more than thirty. My soldiers they-"
"-they did not return. My orders have turned children to orphans and wives to widows. What kind of ruler am I if I cannot protect my people?" Her voice was filled with bitterness and disgrace.
Her question hung in the air. Radkin stood silently, watching her with his amber eyes. After a long pause he spoke, "You govern with kindness, your people live in happiness and prosperity for it."
"It is rare to see eyes as pure as yours. Mourn your men, provide coin for their families, let their mother's tell them of their fathers' bravery. You stand in this place, watching over your city as if you were born of worship and the divine. But your blood runs red, not gold."
The sincere and poetic side to Radkin was rarely seen. Beneath his roguish pretences lay a gentle spirit, one that had walked the rivers and valleys for almost a century.
Lady Farington stood motionless, as if her limbs were crafted from stone instead of flesh. Then she sighed, "Your words are as sharp as your blade witcher."
She returned to her seat and sat down. Her shoulders were heavy with the weight of her turmoil. The room waited for her to speak.
"Reginald. Tell them what we know of the beast."
The guard who had led us to seek an audience cleared his throat. For a moment he seemed as if he wanted to offer comfort to the lady. Then the mistiness was dispelled from his eyes and the sureness of military discipline returned.
"It stalks the mines sir witcher. Coal is the lifeblood of Begar, it's run in our veins for centuries. But the miners do not dare to enter. It's been a month since a pickaxe has swung, the merchants are suspicious of our excuses. they know something's happened. We've held back the news for now, but it won't last. A troop of a twenty men could not kill it, the people will not sit by idly and wait for it to emerge from its den when it grows hungry. They will pack their things onto carts and flee from its jaws!" The guard's voice became louder and more ardent as he spoke. His jaw was tightly clenched in anger.
Radkin's expression was impassive, his thoughts unknown. He turned and looked at me. We had cooperated long enough that I understood the meaning of the gesture without need for words.
I stepped forwards, bringing myself in line with Radkin.
"The beast, do you have any reports of its appearance?" The guard stared at me. His eyes searched mine for any trace of doubt or uncertainity. He found nothing.
"No one's who's laid eyes on it has walked out of the mine. First a miner went missing, we thought perhaps a shaft had collapsed. Men were sent to look for him. None of them came back.
After a week it became clear that the men were not dying of collapsed shafts or rockfall. They were being hunted. The lady ordered the closure of the mines. We've been feeding it mutton to sate it's appetite since.
I thought that we could do the beast in ourselves. I selected twenty of my best men to bring back the its head. Lady fate spat in my face."
The guard gritted his teeth together. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, " I heard their screams. Heard the beast's shrieking and their wails as it swallowed 'em. They died like dogs. I should've been there, I should've died with them in that cursed cave."
He took several deep and shuddering breaths. He calmed slightly. But the fury in his eyes burned even fiercer, "I barely made out a few words. They said that it could move a dozen paces in the blink of an eye. I heard their swords slash at the thing's skin, it sounded like metal scraping together. One of them screamed out that it had ten thousand legs, it can't be true I know but he said it I swear. That's all I know."
Lady Farington interjected suddenly. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white. She asked breathlessly, "Will you kill it?"
"Yes." I answered plainly.
"Ask Arnad for anything you need. You are guests in my home, drink and eat till your stomachs are full. I'll give you enough oren to make your purses tear at the seams. All I ask is that you bring back it's head." Lady Farington sank back into her chair. Her eyelids fluttered wearily.
She covered her face with one hand. The emerald ring on her pinky glinted in the light. The scent of salt drifted into my nostrils. Tears. With her free hand she gestured for us to leave. Her shoulders rose and fell judderingly. She was crying.
The guards to face away from their lady. Their faces reflected both anger and helplessness. Arnad offered a strained smile and raised his arm, signalling for us to exit the room.
Lady Farington did not wish for us to see her cry. Compassion was like a knife plunged into her chest. I left Arnad's outstretched arm to hang in the air for a few moments longer, "A day is required to prepare. We shall feed it mutton laced with nightshade and hunt it the next morning. Thank you for your audience."
The lady gave no response, but for an instant I glimpsed her emerald eyes between the cracks of her fingers. Then she adjusted her hand and covered them entirely. Her sorrow was palpable.
The greatest rulers were those who understood the weight of their duty. To govern with wisdom, fairness and strength. The responsibility a queen held to safeguard those who held faith in her. The baroness's realm was no more than a speck on the corner of a map. But she ruled as a loving and generous leader. All too often power was held by the unworthy. She was a rare example of one who deserved to wield it.
Arnad led us to our rooms. The luxury was staggering. A huge and ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, basking the room in an orange glow. Pillows and blankets were piled high on the four-poster bed, all of them carefully and charmingly embroidered. Every inhalation carried the scent of flowers and rosewood to my mind.
The chandelier swayed gently as someone knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer Radkin entered. He walked about the room, inspecting it with a grin. He wolf-whistled and snatched an apple from the table. The fruits had been neatly arranged into a pyramid. They tumbled chaotically across the table as he plucked one from the base.
"Beats a campfire and a roasted rabbit doesn't it?"
"Its missing a skylight, the forest has plenty of those." I responded while my hands worked to rebuild the broken pyramid.
Radkin laughed and bit crisply into the apple. He chewed as he spoke, gleefully showing me the contents of his mouth, "You know what beastie we're facing little bird?"
The information given by Reginald, the captain of the guard, was messy. But it was enough. I knew the beast that we would soon do battle with, "A myriapod, it must've got in through one of the tunnels. Its got to be a big one to kill that many soldiers. Probably grown even bigger now that they're stuffing it with mutton every day."
"Good lad, you're a real teacher's pet you know!" Radkin exclaimed. Small bits of apple flew out from his mouth, his spit adhered them to my shoes. It seemed impossible to match the brute in front of me with the charming poet who had placed a gentle kiss on Lady Farington's hand.
After being a general nuisance for some time longer, Radkin eventually swaggered back to his room to sleep. The window ledge was just wide enough to sit. It opened with a firm push. A cold breeze brushed across my face. The sun had since vanished and the moon risen in its place. Countless stars twinkled far away. I took pleasure in counting them.
The night passed quickly by. I spent it lost in my thoughts with the stars for company. The luxurious room felt strange and foreign to me, but the softness of the bed was undeniably wonderful. For some time my mind drifted to the embrace I had recieved in Troben from the hunter's wife. I wondered what it might be like to feel the warmth of her body against mine in the huge bed. Again and again I pictured Lady Farington's auburn hair and charming smile. The cool air provided me some respite from the hotness of my stirring desires.
I rose early the next morning, re-lacing the straps of my armour and polishing my swords as had long since become a habit. The sun had scarcely begun to crest the horizon, but Ardan was already awake. For a moment he seemed taken aback by my presence, but he quickly hid his surprise and put on a warm smile.
"Good morning witcher, I had thought that the softness of your bed would hold you for some time longer. Allow me to show you to the kitchen, they should just now be removing the bread from the ovens. I find it is most sumptuous when eaten fresh."
Flour spoiled too easily to endure the wrath of the elements faced while journeying the continent. I had become accustomed to beginning the day with dried meat or leftover stew. The offer of fresh bread was a welcome change.
Ardan proved excellent company. He was an erudite scholar and a kind-hearted man. The other servants greeted him merrily as they passed. We sat on small stools in a corner of the kitchen, each holding a hunk of fresh bread slathered with butter. Around us cooks busily tended to bubbling pots and pans. The smells in the air were too many to count.
Familiarity grew rapidly between us. It was delightful to speak with someone whose values so closely aligned with my own. He listened with wide eyes and bated breath as I spoke about the trials a witcher adept had to overcome.
In a blur of chatter and laughter, an hour soon passed. Arnad surveyed the kitchens, the cooks were all intently focused on their work. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before making a decision.
With his voice hushed until it was barely a whisper, he leaned closer, "The beast, what manner of creature can kill so swiftly?"
"We believe it to be a myriapod. A kind of insect, though far larger and more frightening than those you have seen. The miner's likely created an opening by which it entered."
Ardan's eyes darted left and right as he processed the information. I could see the thoughts whirling within his mind.
He vocalised his most pressing worry, "That thing, the myriapod, swords bounced off its skin. How can you kill something you cannot harm?"
I looked him steadily in the eyes, "It can be harmed. Those men perished because they fought without strategy. I am different, I know where to aim my blade."