In The Strangest Of Places

### Summary

Having arrived in Novigrad, the investigation into the missing noblewomen is slowed by the ongoing Royal festivities. Aradann takes a contract in the meantime to aid a nunnery in Alness, and finds more than he expected.

### Main Character/s

* Aradann
* Riannon Goldwin

### Soundtrack/s

* Bound
* Forest Battle

It had only been a few days, and already Aradann felt like he had been in Novigrad for years. The festivities celebrating the new Imperator and his Empress had been in full swing ever since the three Witchers had arrived, with no sign of dying down anytime soon. All the hustle and bustle in the city made their task of unravelling the mystery of the disappearing noblewomen all the more difficult, and so the three had taken a decision to pursue other paths until the city quietened. While Freya had pursued her own distractions, with Egill having now disappeared, Aradann had decided to make use of his professional skills, having little interest in the celebrations going on throughout the city. The three, now two, had been given accommodation at the Chameleon, which as soon as Dandelion had heard that they were coming to town, he had arranged in the blink of an eye.

The sun had barely emerged over the horizon when Aradann woke, only the very tip of a golden orange circle protruding over a blackened line in the sky. It was slightly unusual to have stayed for several days in a city where you could barely hear yourself think during the day and late into the night, only to hear nothing in the early hours of the morning. It was peaceful to Aradann nevertheless. He rose from the bed, planting his feet to the ground and pacing over to a nearby basin and mirror, pouring water from a jug into the sink and washing his face. Grabbing a towel, he wiped away the excess water and then dressed into his Witcher gear, collecting Tyr and Fenrir after he had checked he was strapped into his armour. Quietly exiting his room and making his way downstairs, he was surprised to see a solitary figure already sitting at the bar.

“Aradann!” boomed the figure, turning to reveal Zoltan Chivay. “Dandelion said you'd be coming our way, glad to see you made it.” He moved off his stool and wandered over to the young Witcher, opening his arms for an embrace. It was a somewhat awkward manoeuvre, seeing as Aradann reached over 6 feet, while Zoltan had the stature of most of his race, being a Dwarf.

“It's good to see you Zoltan, it's been too long.”

“Aye. Aye, that it has lad. I heard you's three had been sent here for a fair few days, be a treat to catch up.” Zoltan seemed to pause, looking around. “Freya and Egill.....are they not with you?” Aradann flared his nostrils in a sort of distaste.

“I imagine Freya's asleep, the rooster has yet to caw after all. And as for Egill.....” he paused. “I doubt you've heared, but Egill is no longer with us." Zoltan's face warped into confusion.

"Surely he's not.....he can't be......I've never known a scrapper like him...." Aradann shook his head.

"No, thankfully. But he has departed from us. He seemed to go missing halfway through the ball, and we returned to find his medallion left for us. It seems he has vanished and does not want to be found. I have my supicions as to where he could have gone, and with who, but it does not change the fact that he is gone, and Freya and I are still here to fulfill a mission." Zoltan remained silent, with only a slight nod of his head as acknowledgement.

“Aye, you could never tell with that boy. Reminds me of Geralt in his younger days.....” The mood seemed to take a somber turn, Zoltan's eyes taking on the weight of worry and sadness. “So..how is Geralt?” Aradann sighed in return, placing his right hand on Zoltan's left shoulder.

“He can't shut himself away forever. And I think despite everything, he knows he has us to turn to.” Zoltan bowed his head but seemed to recover quickly.

“Aye lad. As long as he knows, can't hope for more than that. Anyways, where are you off to so early this morn? I'd wager you and I are the only ones awake in the whole city.”

“You know me, I could never sleep for too long anyway. And I'm going to check the city noticeboard. Would prefer to have something to keep me occupied.” Zoltan smiled up at him then as best he could, patted him on the back.

“Alright lad. Just make sure to not get into too much trouble.” Aradann smiled back down as he headed for the door. “And get back for supper, I'm plucking a pheasant!” Aradann once more rolled his eyes as Zoltan's voice boomed across the inn and out into the street.

The sun had risen a slight more, although the sky was still dark as Aradann sat atop Bheith, having taken him from the stables and now slowly making their way through the empty streets. Of course, empty couldn't account for the many homeless and beggars scattered around the city, or the men on their way to the docks to start an early shift. But Novigrad itself wouldn't come to life for a good few hours. They shortly reached their destination, as Aradann dismounted, holding onto Bheith's reins as he made his way over to the city's noticeboard, perusing over the various notes and scrolls nailed to the board. Several young men wanted for warehouse work, a missing parrot, a reward for information on missing 10th century silverware...a Witcher contract. Aradann tore the parchment away, scanning over it with his cat eyes. Seemed a nunnery was having some trouble with its graveyard. Was worth a look. Reading further down, he saw that the contract giver, a Mother Beatrice, and the cloister itself was based a mile outside of Alness. While outside of Novigrad's walls, Alness wasn't too far away. And Aradann would be happy to get out of the city and into the countryside. Some may have preferred city life but it wasn't for Aradann. Novigrad was too loud, too busy. And overall, it stank, especially in the summertime. The numerous bodies of water reeked with overflown muck, making the whole city a putrid cesspit. Mounting Bheith once more, Aradann kicked his heels into the horse's flanks, setting off for the journey to Alness.

Even miles away from the city, Aradann could hear the celebrations and processions as he rode away. It wasn't until he had put a good several miles between himself and Novigrad that the sounds died down and the natural sounds of the countryside filled his ears. He passed through several villages along the way, each one going about their daily lives. Of course, the sight of a Witcher was always a rare commotion in remote villages, and a treat especially for the young. While the grown and old were still as sceptical of the mutant monster hunters as ever, children seemed to possess a fairytale-like fascination of them. They would whoop and chase after Bheith, although being a grown warhorse, the stallion would not become scared or buck at their presence, rather seeming to carry on along the path with no acknowledgement to their presence. Occasionally Aradann would take a crown from his coin pouch and throw it into the crowd following him, the children seeming to treat it as if they had a chance to seize all of the Emperor's riches.

In contrast to when he had set out, the sun was now lazing in the afternoon sky as he reached the village of Alness. He brought Bheith to a slow trot as he made his way through, with the village folk beginning to pack away their wares and turn in now the days hard work was done. Again, it wasn't long before a group of children had surrounded him, all demanding to know this and that. He turned his attention as several men approached, ushering their young inside. Aradann addressed the eldest of them, judging that he may be the village elder.

“I'm looking for the nunnery, run by Mother Beatrice. How far from here is it?” He was greeted as per usual with a stony silence and judgemental stares.

“What'd you want with her freak?” spoke up one of them men.

“We don't want no trouble, nor called for no mutant.” said another. Sighing, Aradann tried to explain.

“I wish to speak to the mother regarding a potential issue. In which direction would I find her?”

“Back the sodding way you came!” shouted the largest of the group, which was greeted with a bout of laughter. Aradann was becoming frustrated. Reaching up with his left hand, he shifted his fingers to invoke the Axii sign, directing it towards the elder.

“Tell me where the nunnery is.” he spoke. The Elder seemed to fall into a daze, before answering.

“Up the hill and straight on until you reach the woodland pathway. Follow it down and you'll find where you're looking for.” At the sight, the other men began to panic.

“The freak's taken Mikkel's mind!” shouted one. Aradann turned to them.

“Correct. And unless you want me to take your tongues, I suggest you stop cacking like hens, go to your wives and children and let me do my job.” The men muttered amongst themselves but soon made their way back to their homes, probably coming to the conclusion that it wasn't worth trying to aggravate a Witcher trying to do his job.

Once over the hill, Aradann strayed towards the woodland path. It was as if a small forest had sprouted out of nowhere. There was a rough path leading down further into the woodland, seemingly well trodden with both prints and tracks alike coming and going. Man and horse carried on for several minutes before a large iron gate appeared, and behind it an expansive stone complex. For a simple nunnery, it seemed unusually large, more akin to a small fort than a modest house of worship. Seeing the gate was locked and a large stone wall surrounded the complex, Aradann could do naught but wait, seeing no other option. Luckily, he was not left for long, as an older woman seemed to emerge from one end of the building and headed to the gate. Had they been watching him? She reached the entrance then looked up towards Aradann, analysing him before speaking.

“Yes? What is it?” she spoke, rather to the point.

“My name is Aradann, I'm a Witcher. I saw your notice requesting help concerning the graveyard. Am I able to speak with Mother Beatrice?” The woman paused for several moments, again seeming to study him before nodding to herself.

“Stand back please.” She reached down within her robes and produced a large key, unlocking the gates with a loud creak before ushering the Witcher in, locking them the moment he passed her. “Please, we have a stable if you would like to bring your horse there. He will be well fed and given a clean.” she said as she walked alongside him and led him in the direction of the stable in question.

“My thanks Sister.” Dismounting from Bheith, Aradann let the beast settle in before joining the sister and proceeding to walk with her. “An unusual building you have here to house a convent. It looks more like an arms house or the minor keep of some lord.”

“As it was.” she replied. “The building belonged some years ago to a Lord Rathin, who apparently displeased the late Imperator Emhyr in some way. His property was gifted to the newest sect of the Sisters of the Great Sun, and so we moved from a small hall near Oxenfurt to where we see now. This was decades ago you understand, long before you were born I would imagine. We of course removed all the lavishness and grand collections. This is after all, a place of worship. Follow me, we shall speak to the Revered Mother.” She spoke with a stern yet not entirely unapproachable tone.

“Of course.” he said. Although he followed no religion of his own, Aradann was always respectful of those who did. The Sister led them round to the nunnery entrance, a huge oak door with a smaller door etched into the bottom left hand side, through which they entered. They stepped into a large stone hall, sparse of much save candle stands, prayer benches and a large altar.

“Here at the nunnery we spend much of our time in prayer, but we also offer shelter and healing to the local populace or any pilgrims or wanderers. All are welcome in the warmth of the Great Sun.”

“How many of you are there?” Aradann asked.

“As of current, there are ten of us. The Mother Beatrice of course, myself and eight other Sisters. We all have our own duties, but administer healing and hospitality. Our youngest member, Sister Riannon sees to our garden; the girl has a knack for horticulture and also herbology, creating and mixing many of the remedies we supply to any in need. Ah.” She turned, seeing another woman approaching. “Mother Beatrice, this man, Master Aradann of the Witcher caste is here to see you regarding our notice.” The second woman, another elderly nun smiled and nodded.

“My thanks Sister Olenna. You may return to your duties.” The woman Olenna bowed her head and then disappeared into the complex, leaving Aradann and Mother Beatrice alone in the great hall. “Master Witcher, I thank you for coming to our aid during our time of need. I trust your journey was not too arduous? Please, walk with me.” As they strolled, Aradann could tell without having known that this was clearly the woman in charge. While professional and polite, she exuded an aura of authority and an almost motherly charm.

“Thank you Mother Beatrice. The journey was fairly simple, I happen to be staying in Novigrad at the moment so it was not too much of a stretch. And I thank you for your welcome. It is not something that we as a caste are accustomed to.” She stifled somewhat of a grin and a chuckle.

“My dear, all are welcome underneath the rays of the Great Sun. It matters not your colour or creed. Besides, when one is faced with a problem, there is little point in alienating the professionals.” Ardann already liked the woman. It was refreshing to see someone with her sense.

“And what seems to be your issue Mother?” Beatrice became sullen at the mention.

“As would be standard to any place of worship, we have our own graveyard where our passed sisters are buried. It is indeed quite a sizeable one. Lately, it appears that some of the graves have been.....desecrated. A most heinous crime. One of our own, Sister Fiona was investigating the scene unbeknownst to us and alas, she was found dead the next morning. I have tried my best to keep the situation calm, but I fear that there are sinister forces at work. Some expect a curse, that the land is haunted.” She paused, stopping in her tracks and turning to Aradann. “Master Witcher, we are nuns, not warriors. All we wish is for our convent to return to peace without any more coming to harm. Would you be willing to look into this matter? I am afraid we have little to pay you with but we will muster what we can.” Aradann took a moment to consider. In a rarity for any Witcher, the contract givers had actually been courteous and polite to him for a start. Having listened to the Mother's plea, and not in desperate need of coin, he made up his mind.

“I'll look into it for you Mother.”

“A hundred blessings upon you Master Witcher. What do you require of us?” Aradann took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I'll need to study the graveyard itself. Do you have any suspects? Has anyone seen anything?” Mother Beatrice took a moment herself to think.

“Sadly not. And if anyone did see anything, it was poor Fiona.”

“Hmm. Am I able to see the body? I may be able to deduce the cause of her death and the situation as a whole from any wounds she may have.” Beatrice again looked slightly disheartened but seemed to steel herself.

“Her body is being prepared for burial in the small chapel. If you must, then I understand.”

“Thank you. I'll need to see the graveyard first.”

“Of course. This way.” She led Aradann through the complex, first exiting the hall into a large kitchen. “The convent garden is located outside, it is where we grow our herbs, flowers and vegetables.” They continued through into a hallway also overlooking the surprisingly vast garden. “Beyond this hallway are the sisters' quarters to the left and the small chapel to the right. Beyond that lies the graveyard.” The walked onwards until they reached the graveyard. Although the sun was still out, it was now beginning to dip. “If it is the same with you Master Witcher, I shall remain inside, I have some matters to see to. When you are finished you may enter the small chapel where Sister Elaine is currently overseeing Fiona's body.” The Mother walked
away, leaving Aradann to the graveyard. He stepped outside and immediately was greeted with a strong smell of rot. Observing further it was as Beatrice had said; several of the graves had been desecrated, dug wide open and with the bodies missing from them. He knelt down onto the grass and focused on the ground; bloodstains. They were relatively recent, several days old at the most. They must be Fiona's. From the way they were smothered in a trail, it looked like something had tried to drag her and then abruptly stopped. Moving further up, his attention was caught by large claw marks etched into several of the gravestones, complete with several sets of prints leading to the back of the graveyard itself. Making his way over, the same well surrounding the complex ended his walk. Bending down, he surveyed the bottom of the wall. Something about the wall was out of place. Drawing Tyr, he used the blade to push at the stone, and with a hard thrust, watched it crumble. Whoever or whatever had done this had known about the hole in the wall, and entered the graveyard through it, trying to rebuild the wall once it had exited. 'Hmm.' he thought. Bandits? But what use would bandits have for not only stealing from a poor nunnery but also stealing corpses? And the prints had had seen earlier certainly didn't belong to any man. Having seen all he could here, he made his way to the small chapel, knocking twice and awaiting entry to be granted. The door opened and a middle aged woman on the other side greeted him.

“Ah, you must be the Witcher the Revered Mother sent for. I assume you're here to examine the body?” She sounded almost annoyed at the idea.

“If at all possible Sister. It will help be discern what caused this.” She glared at him distrustfully.

“Fine. I will be back in several minutes.” With that she left. Aradann moved further into the chapel and saw the covered body on a stone table. He removed the white sheet covering the body and sighed seeing the result. The body, Fiona's, looked like it had been half eaten. Bite marks covered the flesh, as well as claw strokes....of two different sizes. The skin seemed to be covered in several areas in some sort of slime and rotting flesh, definitely not her own. Two of the fingers on her right hands were torn off at the stumps, while the left thumb and ring finger were dislocated. A graveyard, the missing bodies, the claw marks and bites. It all led to a ghoul pack. But even they wouldn't have been able to carry bodies off. The thought applied to the broken wall indicated an intelligent creature, and coupled with
the slime led to one conclusion: a Grave Hag. Shit. It was at that moment Elaine returned.

“So? Anything?” she asked, almost snapping.

“I know what it is. I need to gather some herbs from your garden. Can I browse or do I need to speak to one of the Sisters?”

“Sister Riannon will be in the garden somewhere. I would ask her, she has everything in an orderly fashion and I imagine she wouldn't take well to you simply helping yourself and messing things up.” Aradann tried not to sigh as he made his way to the gardens. “And??? What is it?” he heard Elaine shout.

“You'd rather not know.” he muttered under his breath. He made his way back through the hallway and stepped out into the garden. Although he had never been one for admiring foliage, he had to admit that it was extremely well kept, and larger than he had imagined, going back even further than the graveyard had. There were all sorts of flowers and herbs everywhere, along with rows of fruit and vegetables, making him feel as if he were in some sort of miniature garden maze. He turned and in one of the rows saw cortinarius. Perfect. With at least one of the ingredients he would need, he turned to see if he could find any help, not wanting to just pluck some haphazardly. It was then after he turned a corner he felt someone bump into him from the back.

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An unassuming women left the Nunnery from the back to make her way to the massive garden she tended as the first rays of light crested the mountains in the distance. Her long brown hair was hanging down her back, a rare pleasure for Riannon. While she walked the paths, her hands reached out to stoke and caress the passing flowers and vegetation. How she loved it here. The bird song was calming to her soul and the fresh air soothing to her mind. Her light-blue eyes lifted to those distant peaks, and became dreamy as she sat to begin her morning mediation. 'I wonder what it would feel like to stand on those peaks, to feel the wind rush over my skin and to share the sky with the birds and the sun.' she mused, her hands folding out of habit as her eyes fell shut. To an outsider she would look as if she were praying, or deep in mediation, but her mind was a whirl of dreams and thoughts of possible experiences. But they were just that, dreams, as she liked
the peaceful, stress free life she led. At the moment she didn't feel the overwhelming need for change, so she just sat and enjoyed her daydreams.

The recent murder of her sister came to mind suddenly, causing the happy aura that had been flowing from her in gentle waves to suddenly crash violently into depression. She had known Fiona well, and the nun was one of the few she considered a close friend. They both had been dreamers, though Fiona was much more subtle and had actually wanted to leave their home. Riannon sighed and prayed aloud.

“May the Sun Gods lights shine upon sister Fiona’s path as she travels the next life.” Her heart gripped, as she meant what she said, but wasn’t sure if the Sun God cared about her or her fallen sister. Lately she had been thinking more like Fiona, silently questioning the practices and beliefs of her convent, and then chastising herself for doing so. No longer able to sit still, her thoughts needing a physical release, she stood and began to wonder the garden.

The foliage helped her think in a calm manner, as well as reassured her that the Sun God was real. After all, her beloved plants needed the light, so was it not logical to conclude that the soul needed light to thrive as well? She walked for hours, her gaze far away, as she worked on the turmoil within and then began to daydream once more about the outside world. A sigh of contentment left her lips as she turned a corner and bumped into a wall, sending her to the floor with an 'Oomph'. Shaking herself for not paying attention she looked up and was surprised to see a man standing before her.

“W-who are you?” She asked, as her eyes took in his appearance, or what she could see of it. He had two swords strapped to him, and when he turned her eyes widened as she got an answer to her question. “Master Witcher! I am so sorry, please forgive my absent-mindedness. The sisters are always telling me I need to be more aware. How can I help you?” her nerves showed as her words almost mashed together. Riannon was still sprawled on the ground as she locked her blue orbs on his yellow ones, both intrigued and stunned that a Witcher was in her garden.

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Upon colliding into whatever it was he had hit, Aradann turned around, having heard what sounded like another person fall to the floor. His eyes fell over a young woman crumpled on the floor, who almost immediately started babbling away, seeming to fall over her own words. Olenna had mentioned that the Sister who tended to the garden was the youngest among them, and therefore Aradann could only assume that this was Riannon. Like all the cloister inhabitants, she was wearing a flowing black dress tailored with gold embellishments, the traditional colours of Nilfgaard and in turn, the clergy of the Great Sun. As she talked, Aradann knelt down and offered her a hand up. Upon both standing, he was taken aback by her appearance. Not only was she beautiful, but she was a mirror image of the Empress herself. With only her the shade of her cascading brown hair being of a notable difference, it was as if Aradann was staring at Isabella Leuvaarden. The same almond shaped eyes with their light-blue irises stared into his own, the same pronounced cheekbones and jawline were chiselled on her face. It was impossible. Still, speculations could be made later.

“Sister Riannon I presume? No apologies needed, the fault was mine, I should have announced my presence.” While part of him was focused on getting what he came for and continuing with the job, his mind was still nagging at him regarding her uncanny resemblance to Isabella. He gathered his thoughts and removed the thought from his mind for the
meantime. “I'm here regarding the notice that Mother Beatrice had posted, the disturbance in the graveyard. I'm sorry to hear about the loss of Sister Fiona, hopefully I can ensure nothing like that will happen again. What I need right now are specific herbs to brew a decoction and an oil, I was told you would be the one best suited to help me with this as you care for the garden?”

Before another exchange of words could be made, Mother Beatrice reappeared, smiling at the two as she walked towards them slowly but calmly.

“Master Witcher, I see you have found our dear Riannon. How fares your investigation? Have you learned anything?” While a smile was painted on her face, Aradann could see the sadness and fear in her eyes. Aradann looked from her back to Riannon, back to the Mother.

“I require the Sister's help with gathering several herbs, in order to brew some potions. I'm afraid the graveyard has attracted the attention of a Ghoul pack, and they seem to be spurred on by a Grave Hag. Sister Fiona was unfortunate enough to come across them while they were excavating the graves. I can track them to the lair and dispose of them, you'll have no further problem with them then.” The Mother's smile faded and her skin paled, although she tried to retain a professional composure.

“I...I see. May the Great Sun preserve us all, it clearly sent you to us in its wisdom. Do you have some idea of whether you would be able to retrieve the bodies for reburial?” Aradann sighed regrettably.

“While I understand your wish to have all passed Sisters resting within the grounds, I'm afraid the stolen corpses will very likely have been devoured. I will do what I can but the likelihood of returning the bodies is minimal.” Beatrice remained neutral in her position.

“I thank you Master Witcher, though I am afraid I do not wish to know any further details. Whether our sisters are returned to us or not, I am sound of the knowledge that they are at the side of the Great Sun itself now and will forever be bathed in its warmth.” She turned to Riannon, a smile returning to her face. “Riannon dear, be sure to assist Master Aradann here with whatever it is he may need, it is thanks to his grace after all that we will soon be rid of these horrors.” She turned her attention to Aradann once more. “Master Witcher, I must attend to my duties. I will pray for your success. As we spoke of earlier, when the deed is done we shall speak of your payment.” Once again she left, retreating to the inside the building. Aradann turned his head towards Riannon.

“I'll see this done, for all of you. Now, I need help finding the following: white myrtle petals, cortinarius, quebrith, bryonia and fool's parsley.”

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She accepted his hand and was not surprised when he seemed to lift her with ease.

"Yes, I am sister Riannon. It's a pleasure to meet you Master Witcher. The fault was both of ours. Yours for not announcing yourself and mine for not watching where I was going." she replied as she dusted herself off. Her voice held nervousness and a slight tone of laughter. However her light aura clouded at the mention of Fiona. Her eyes swirled with emotional clouds, and before she could reply Mother Beatrice walked up to them. As the two conversed, Riannon's aura darkened. Her beloved sister had been attacked by an unholy creature, and the Great Sun hadn't protected her. Was death her punishment for not being a true believer? Had the Great Sun forsaken her because she silently questioned him? Without realizing it, she was so emotionally distraught as well as feeding off the sorrow and fear of the Holy Mother, she started putting out magic that caused some of the flowers near her feet to slowly begin to droop and wilt, as if the hand of death had caressed them.

'How does she know The Great Sun is with them? He wasn't with Fiona! He left her to die at the hands of those... those things. We do not know if her death was swift or if she suffered! If only I had stopped her... Maybe she wouldn't have died...'

Her emotions began to spiral into the darkness when the Mother smiled at her and seemed to send a calming energy her way. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at the older woman's request she assist the man, the wilting flowers now back to their previous state, as if nothing had happened. Riannon just hoped he hadn't noticed. When Aradann turned his attention on her, Riannon was once more calm and smiling.

"If you'll follow me. I will get some gear to properly gather the things you need, just tell me how much of each you require. If it won't be a bother, could I maybe watch you prepare them? I would very much like to see a Master at work, as the sisters do not make potions often. I learned from books and trial and error. As sister Olenna loves to tell others, I nearly blew up my room one time trying to mix a salve that would cool burns. As you can guess, it didn't work the way I was hoping." she prattled on as she grabbed gloves, clippers, a hand shovel and a basket, then began to walk down several paths, stopping at the plants he had asked for along the way.

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As Aradann spoke with the Revered Mother, he noticed the slump in Riannon's demeanour, no doubt the result of hearing the news he had imparted. The girl seemed to possess an energy about her, which up until now had exuded light and hope. He could feel the darkening aura surround her, and watched out of the corner of his eye as the flowers around her wilted, returning to their bloomed form soon after. Whoever this girl was, she was certainly more than met the eye.

After the Mother had left the two and Aradann had laid out his requirements, Riannon seemed to jump into action, gathering all sorts of tools and protective gear as the two walked and found their way to each of the plants and herbs. Elaine had been right; Riannon seemed meticulous about the garden. When Aradann usually collected ingredients, he required nothing more than his own strength and two hands.

“I can assure you, it's a lengthy process, one which will need to be done outside. And the smell alone will make rotting vegetables smell sweet. But if you have no qualms with that and can allow me the silence and concentration I need then I don't see why not.” He watched as she would gently stoop down to each required plant, always perfectly adjusting her skirts and gently removing the flora, treating everything with such care as a mother to her babe. The darkness he had sensed earlier had dissipated, replaced by a warmth of care and
innocence. Although he remained silent to the matter, it was clear to him that she was no ordinary woman. Although not as obvious as it was with someone like Yennefer or Triss, magic surrounded Riannon, he could feel it. Was she aware of it was the question? Her earlier display with the flowers was not an act of controlled power. The question burned in his mind once more, what connection did this girl have to Isabella? If she had been a Doppler trying to imitate the Empress, Aradann would have known straight away as his medallion would have warned him of the presence of a magical creature, but nothing of the sort had happened. His eyes scanned over her as she worked away, seeming happily lost among the flowerbeds. It was unmistakeable; you could place her next to Isabella and apart from the shade of hair, even a Witcher would be hard pressed to find a difference in their features. Just who was she? Everyone knew that Isabella Leuvaarden was an only child. His focus returned at she stood, composing herself and patting down her dress, the basket now full of the ingredients required.

“Good. Now, we need two containers, preferably cauldrons to brew. Empty bottles to store the liquids within. And firewood.” After a few moments talk on where to find the required items, the two headed to the kitchens where yet another woman was preparing what seemed to be fresh bread. The sky was beginning to darken outside as the sister ceased her activity and looked up to see the Witcher and Riannon in tow, almost dropping her rolling pin.

“Oh my, you startled me sir! Sister Riannon, who is this m.......oh, oh! My apologies, you must be the Witcher! Sister Olenna mentioned that one of your caste had arrived recently to solve our problems within the graveyard. Where are my manners? Sister Mildreth, at your service.” She leaned over in a small bow. Again, like the others, she was an aged woman, again causing him to question exactly who Riannon was. A young woman in a cloister full of those old enough to be her grandmother, bearing a mirror resemblance to the Empress and with clear magical ability.

“Aradann, of the School of the Wolf.” he replied in turn. The sister's old eyes seemed to light up.

“The Wolf? Why you must know Master Geralt! I had the pleasure of meeting him several decades ago, a fine gentleman indeed. Tell me, how does he fare?” Aradann knew there was no point in explaining the man he had become.

“He is well sister. Now, could you perhaps aid us? We are in search of some items to help brew concoctions.” Listing the items off, she seemed only too glad to help. Soon gathering what they needed, the two ventured into the graveyard, Aradann carrying everything except the basket. They found an undisturbed patch of grass to sit, and began to construct the pyres upon which the cauldrons would stand.

“The evening will be long sister. Again, I will not take offence if you wish to leave. Though I can assure you that if you wish to stay, you will be safe. Our intruders will not disturb the graveyard while they can sense me here.” And so the process began. Once the cauldrons were set, Aradann sent out a shot of Igni to each of the woodpiles, the flames sparking and slowly starting to consume. With that, Ardann reached into one of the pouches strapped to his chest armour and took out two vials of a yellowish liquor, pouring one into each cauldron. Next, he took the white myrtle and crushed the petals within his hands, dropping the remains into the first of the cauldrons, before doing the same with the other ingredients within the other. Once they had been stirred and were boiling suitably, Aradann removed his swords, placing them on the grass by his side. He sat cross-legged and looked up to the sky, having turned an inky shade of blue now, the stars beginning to shine while the moon appeared as a milky crescent. Luckily for the both of them, it was a warm night, with a light breeze maintaining the balance. He turned his attention to Riannon, being struck by her beauty, just as he had been by Isabella's only days ago. Her eyes seemed to glow in the starlight as the moon created a sheen against her flowing brown locks. He tried to gather his thoughts as he found himself being lost in her gaze.

“The brewing will take several hours, by which time it will be midnight, and I will begin my work. In the meantime, we must wait.” He focused his eyes on her, his pupils dilating to better adjust to the darkening sky. “Seeing as we're here, why don't you tell me more about yourself? I must admit, I didn't expect to find someone so young within the cloister. Are you from around here?” He hoped that by beginning to ask her unobtrusive questions about her background that he could begin to unravel some of the mystery surrounding her.

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After she bent down to gather the fool's parsley, gently stoking the leaves and whispering softly as she cut the requested part of the plant, she answered.

"I would greatly appreciate it. The smell can not be any worse then some of the wounds I have been asked to help heal, and you won't even know I am there if you so desire it. I want to learn, and if being as still and quiet as a stone statue is what is required of me, I will give it my all." her voice held sincerity and an innocence that matched her current aura. As the gathered the white myrtle petals, cortinarius, quebrith and bryonia she would get lost in the plants for several moments before remembering her task and scolding herself under her breath as she went to the next item. When she had everything requested and he mentioned the things he would need to mix the herbs in she told him that the Sister in charge of the kitchen would know where all that was and suggested they go ask her. When they arrived she had to stifle a giggle at Sister Mildreth reaction to Master Aradann. It was when a man named Geralt was mentioned that Riannon sensed a change in the Witchers own aura. He wasn't telling the sister the truth, or at least the whole truth. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, as they were on the move soon after.

As they neared the graveyard, she became nervous and had a moment of second thought about watching him, before steeling herself and continuing to follow him. When he found a spot he liked she placed the basket down and helped him where she could. At his words she paused before going back to work and replying. "I wish to stay. I won't lie, I was concerned about them returning, but I find your presence securing and know you would not allow me to help and watch if there was a chance I would be endangered beyond normal." and it was true. She felt safe with the man, even if she had just met him. She watched silently and intently as he began to combine the ingredients, making mental notes as he went on. When it was clear he was finished and all that was left was to wait she turned her gaze to the sky, her mind going beyond. 'The stars are so bright, the moon shines with a glee I haven't ever seen. Did the Great Sun really bring him here, and is it shining a light upon this Witcher's path? Or is it my mind playing tricks on me, making me see things that aren't really there?' At his words she turned her light blue gaze upon his yellow eyes and smiled. "I shall wait with you then." a lighthearted chuckle left her lips at his question about her past, a bittersweet smile tugging the corners of her mouth as she answered him.

"I do not know from where I come. The Mother and sisters found me as a young girl at their door. Whom ever left me didn't leave a note or a name. Riannon is the name gifted to me by my sisters. What about you Master Witcher? What are you willing to tell me about yourself?" Her voice held a slight note of a challenge, as if she dared him to share something he had never told anyone, though she was also honestly curious and wondered what the Witcher would tell her when she finished. " Maybe you can tell me what it is you did not tell my friend about the man Geralt. She has mentioned him in passing a few times, and truly cares about his wellbeing, yet you told her something that, if I may be so bold, was not completely true. Why is that? Is this man dead or dying and you wished to spare her the pain? Or has he asked you to be silent about him to those from his past?"

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As he listened to her, he couldn't help but think how the name Riannon was not one that was used very often, being mostly associated with Riannon, the daughter of the fabled Lara Dorren. It was an interesting choice on the nuns' part. But her unknown origins were becoming more and more interesting to him. A young girl, with the face of the current Empress happens to be left at the door of a nunnery, with no mention as to her name, family or past. While he could sense nothing sinister about her, she was nevertheless shrouded in mystery. After being asked of his own background, he could see no harm in divulging. After all, they had plenty of time to kill.

“As you may have caught on, my name is Aradann, Aradann Marshall if you wish to be more precise. I was born in Crow's Perch in Velen. My father was a hunter, while I can't remember much of my mother, she died when I was very young. My father told me it was from the Catriona plague. Anyway, I grew up working as a stablehand for the sergeant of the village. I also used to go hunting with my father, as he would often hunt for food for the village, as the sergeant and his circle were mostly unconcerned with the village folk. It was a hard life I suppose. The first time I ever laid eyes on a Witcher was when I was seven. A Witcher named Eskel came to our village, and he was holding my father in his arms. Apparently, he'd been killed by a Chort, a large and extremely violent woodland monster. Anyway, I'd lost both my parents, had no one to return to. Eskel offered to take me back with him to Kaer Morhen, the School of the Wolf stronghold, and become a Witcher like him. At first I remember not wanting to go; I hated him, I could only associate him with holding my father's corpse. But eventually, knowing I had nothing left I agreed. And so I became a Witcher. The years of rituals and training were brutal and life was a constant agony. But I emerged from it, along with two others. We were the first to have been made into Witchers of the Wolf in over a century. From then I suppose, my life has been just that, on the path.” He listened further as Riannon seemed to almost playfully berate him regarding his earlier meeting with Mildreth, and his white lie regarding Geralt in turn. He sighed as he brushed several strands of hair from his face.

“Geralt.......he lost someone very dear to him a long time ago. And ever since, it has affected every aspect of his life, his career, his relations with others. He is no longer the man he would have been when Sister Mildreth knew him. But I would rather have not given an old woman that news and destroyed the image she had once known of him. He lives still, but mostly in isolation. The last I saw him in person was the first time in over a year. We do what we can for him, but he prefers to be left alone and keep himself to himself nowadays. But regardless, life goes on. There are.......were...... currently six of us who belong to the Wolf school. Besides Geralt, there is Eskel, the man who I spoke of earlier. Contrary to when we first met, we are staunch friends now. He has largely been my mentor, as well as my friend. Then there is Lambert, another of the older Witchers. Lambert is.....” He struggled for words for a moment. “....difficult. While he is highly skilled as a Witcher, he is also rude, obnoxious and has the worst people skills I've ever come across. I know it's well rumoured that our mutations strip us of emotion and social convention, but Lambert is just ignorant. The other two are like I am, the new generation of Wolf Witchers I suppose you could call us. Egill is of a similar age to myself, and we were both among a group of eight who were subjected to the Trials. Between myself and Egill, we were the only ones left standing at the end. We both lost some good friends along the way. Then there is Freya, one of the first ever female Witchers. She is a few years younger than Egill and I, and was the only survivor of her group. But we also have others living at Kaer Morhen, or the odd visitor. Gisela is I suppose, the fort housekeeper. She does the cooking, the cleaning. And given the fact that she is a Gnome, and gets it all done so quickly is impressive. We occasionally have visits in particular from Yennefer of Vengerberg and Triss Merigold. Surely you've heard of them? Other members of the Lodge of Sorceresses have visited on occasion but we generally stand on rocky ground with them. And speaking of rocks.” Aradann rolled his eyes at the thought. Although he had come here with a darker purpose, he was actually enjoying himself. It was refreshing to have an open conversation with someone from outside of his caste.

“We have a rock troll living with us. His name is Bart. Completely harmless though, well, at least to us. He usually is roped in to helping Gisela out. After all, being a Gnome, she does lack height and strength, so having him to aid her when cleaning, picking vegetables and so on works well I imagine.” The crackling of the fires was pleasant as the two talked, with the night sky above them, littered with stars. “I suppose in a way, we're a family. While we may not tell each other we love one another, or always sit round a table to eat, we know that every one of us has each others' back.” He looked up at her, studying her face once again. Even in the dark, and by the light of the fire, her light blue eyes glowed like stardust. His mind turned to her mystery origins, and as to how she came to be here. “So now that you are grown, is it your want to always remain here? It's a peaceful life I suppose. I almost envy you.” He chuckled slightly, curtly smiling up at her. Leaning over to check the cauldrons, he inspected them. They still had a fair way to go before they were done. He sat once more, taking a breath. Thankfully, it was a warm sky this evening, otherwise he may have become concerned for Riannon, in naught but her dress. “Far be it for me to seem as if I am questioning your belief, but I myself known little of the Great Sun. We still have a fair bit of time to talk after all.”

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Though he hid it well, Riannon still felt the change in his aura as he talked about his past and those memories brought on emotions. Gently she placed her hand on his knee, giving him an understanding smile that held no pity, but also seemed to draw in the emotions that were considered negative to banish them with her own simple acceptance.

"Your childhood may seem to have been worse than most, but it seems to me that your past has made you a better man today. Not everyone would help a group of nuns who can't pay them much. I can tell you are a decent man, Mister Marshall, and that you feel emotion just like anyone else. You have already shown your kindness and humility, as well as your courage and intelligence. Even without the mutations, I think you would be a fine man, one worthy of praise and respect." she removed her hand as he continued, finding his voice to be as soothing as his presence, the tune of it caressing her ears as they watched the night sky.

"I appreciate you not sharing this with my sister. She is rather fond of Geralt and would be distraught if she heard any of that. Thank you for keeping her in the dark." Riannon said, her blue eyes locked on his own as she smiled gratefully. "We don't get much news of the outside world here, but I have heard of those two. They seem to be a popular subject for many of the visitors who come asking for the Great Sun's blessing." she giggled at his description of Bart and felt more than saw how much Aradann actually liked the troll. "Family is important. The sisters and Mother gave me a home and family when I needed one most, so I can understand what you mean. Even though they are all so much older, if something were to happen, they would protect me and I them to the best of my abilities. Fiona was just too headstrong sometimes. She liked to do things on her own and forgot that she had others who were willing to marry her burdens with her." her mind had gone to her deceased sister, the loss still fresh as well as the fact they were at her murder site. Yet this time her emotions seemed to stay in check. This man beside her had eased the pain a bit, and his change of subject helped as well.

"It is peaceful, and at times I never want to leave. But there is no reason to envy me. While life here is good and quiet most of the time, I sometimes wish to see and experience the world outside those walls. And I sometimes wonder if the Great Sun really cares about me or anyone here. If he did, why did Fiona have to die? Why didn't he protect her? She questioned her belief in him as well but was always better at hiding it than I. We would spend hours talking some days, and still not find the answered we were looking for. What if the Great Sun is just a fantasy created to sooth the soul? Would my life not be wasted if I stayed here as a false follower?" She paused, her emotions of despair and confusion rising once more, causing her to take a moment to calm herself. As she did he asked about the Great Sun. "He is the patron of warmth, life, humanity, the ruling dynasty, the Emperor and the army. While it is said he is the giver of warmth and life as well as the protector of humankind he is also just as easily capable of being cruel and destructive. Many of the sisters believe that he is present even in the darkest of hours, that he guides mortal lives and decides their fates. I personally don't know if that is true or not. Nor do I know what else I could tell you about him. As I said earlier, I have my doubts, and that those doubts are what spurred Fiona to come out here alone." Sighing she looked back up at the sky, doing her best to keep thoughts neutral. Then she saw a shooting star and quickly grabbed Aradann's hand and bowed her head as she whispered "Make a wish!" before silently wishing for help in deciding her future, as his question about staying had made her inner voice wonder if she should leave and do the things she had only dreamed about.

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She spoke with such passion and conviction that Aradann found himself moved by her speech. It was clear to him that she was a caring and insightful individual, and that her words were not empty. Being so used as a Witcher to anyone outside his own caste treating him and his kind as freaks and outcasts, it was always refreshing to meet someone who saw beyond the outside, and would not judge on a first impression. Placing her hand on his knee was a surprise, especially as most saw touching a Witcher as far worse than even talking to them, with some who would even refer to them as worse than lepers. She then proceeded to speak of the Great Sun, and for the first time in his life, Aradann found himself interested in finding out about religion. He was taken by further surprise when she suddenly grabbed his hand. Looking up, he too saw the star, watching her bow her head, no doubt silently making a wish to herself. Aradann searched his own thoughts, but could not bring anything to his mind. His thoughts however were interrupted by a loud bubbling; the potions were nearing completion. He knelt up, removing his hand from Riannon's and checked on the cauldrons. Carefully stirring the liquids with a slight breeze of Aard coming from his fingertips, before using the sign to blow out the fires. Taking several empty vials, he scooped from each cauldron, filling the containers. The two were left now with only the light of the stars and the moon. He was unsure if the Sisters would be looking for Riannon by this time, whether there was some sort of curfew, or if she had missed any duties. Although Aradann felt guilty for a moment, he concluded that no one had come to collect her and so all must be well. But it was nearing the time that he would begin his work. Even though Riannon had accompanied him to brew his potions, it was far too dangerous for her to follow him as he sought out the monster pack. Depositing several of the vials in the pouch strapped to his chest armour, he kept two one the ground, one a deep forest green and the other a swirling crimson.

“The green is a potion called Thunderbolt. It enables us to strengthen and over-exert our muscles for a short time, being able to put more force into our sword swings, our movements. But it can only be consumed by those who have ingested the mutations; any attempt to drink it by a non-enhanced person would likely result in a very long, loud and unpleasant death. The red is not a potion, but an oil. We coat our silver swords in oils that make them more effective against the various types of monsters we hunt. For instance, the monsters I seek on behalf of your cloister are what we refer to as necrophages, monsters that feed off corpses. While they will attack the living, as they did with Fiona, they would not have consumed her wholly as it was likely she died of her wounds after they had departed.” With that, he drew Fenrrir, his silver sword. The moonlight reflected off the blade, which shone bright, etched with its ancient runes. Applying the blade across his lap, Aradann began to coat the red liquid across the blade, using an old cloth on his person to spread it. After coating one side, he flipped the blade, coating the other side, until he was satisfied with his work. Taking up the green vial now, he grimaced as he uncorked the container, a foul stench wafting from within. Without hesitation, he placed the vial to his lips, pouring the potion in and throwing his head back. Although he had consumed Witcher potions for almost two decades, he never got used to the effects. While it would as he said increase his muscular ability, the Thunderbolt began its work. Pain ripped through his body as the muscles began to rework themselves, moving under his skin, while his face and body became highlighted with deep purple veins, standing out like whipcords against his skin. He kept his breathing as steady as possible, trying not to cry out as his body continued to shift. Finally, the pain subsided, and the veins slowly retracted. He let out a series of slow and heavy breaths, before moving from his knees into a standing position.

“Now I must go and do what the Mother hired me to. I need you to promise me you will not follow, and will return inside. Lock the doors, and if I haven't returned by the first light of morning, keep them barricaded. Have Mother Beatrice send a direct request to Kaer Morhen then.” While it had been a refreshing night so far spending time with someone so understanding, and while Aradann was still intrigued with the young woman, he was not here for her. He turned from her and headed towards the end wall of the graveyard, where the stones had been dismantled and put back together. He did not look back as he left, only hoping that Riannon had taken his words to heart. The hunt had begun.

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His hand was warm around hers, and Riannon found herself wanting to spend more time with this man. He listened to her and didn't judge her indecision, nor did he make her feel like a pretender like some of the Sisters did when she brought up her lack of faith. He was also nothing like that which people conveyed of Witchers. He clearly felt emotion very deeply and he had dreams and aspirations of his own. He wasn't emotionless and focused on killing everything. Nor was he rude to her at any time. In fact, he was one of the only men who had come to them that
hadn't tried to take them for all they had. She was taken from her thoughts when he removed his hand from hers and finished the potions. She was once more watching with rapt interest and nodded as he explained what each one did and was for. She took mental note of how he coated his sword then what he said about average people taking the brew. Riannon's eyes widened in worry and fascination as he downed the Thunderbolt. She watched his veins protrude and had to clench her fist to stop herself from trying to make it stop hurting him. She could feel the pain he was trying to hide, though very muted, though his aura. Again she was amazed at the man before her. Such courage and strength of will. All of this for strangers who, realistically, wouldn't be able to pay him much for his services. He showed his merit again as he stood and made her promise not to follow him as well as gave her instructions on what to do should he fail.

"I promise I will not follow you, and I have no doubt you will return to us. As the Mother said, the Great Sun must have sent you and if he did his light will guide you in your task. May his light shine upon you and keep you safe Master Aradann." she said as she stood. She watched him leave, her heart dropping for some reason, and when he was out sight she turned and hurried back to her Sisters. When she got there she relayed his message then asked the Holy Mother to prepare some medical aid. She couldn't explain why, just that she had a sinking feeling that they needed to be prepared for his return. Now all she could do was wait.

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The dilapidated wall stood before him as he extended a hand and sent out a blast of Aard. The stones immediately broke apart and scattered as he walked through into the surrounding forest. Lowering himself on one knee, he focused on the ground before him, his cat pupils expanding. The Ghoul tracks were there for him to see, although any other who was not a Witcher would have had a hard time picking them up even with perfect vision. And there they were; footprints befitting of a Grave Hag. Aradann hated Hags of all kinds, but Grave Hags were without a doubt the worst. Swollen, slobbering and greedy pieces of filth, they would steal cold bodies and devour them, whether they were buried or left on the side of the road. Coming equipped with brute strength, flesh tearing claws and an unnaturally long and venomous tongue, they were a menace and a nightmare to deal with. No doubt they would all be shacked up in some kind of cave, and getting ready to stalk the night. They would have no such chance.

While the air will still warm, it had begun to rain. Aradann needed to move fast if he was to follow the tracks before they became lost and muddy and so sped up. He was being led deeper into the forest, the sounds of faraway wolves crying out to the moonlight as he ventured on, the rain coming down harder now and beginning to soak him through, even under the cover of the trees. The tracks suddenly took a sharp turn, and led him to a steep slope. He slid down the hillside and looked around, only to find the cave entrance carefully hidden among a grassy knoll. While they were monsters, Grave Hags possessed cunning, and if he hadn't been observant, the entrance would have remained hidden. He moved over to the cavern mouth and noticed that it was like a high up window, with a drop to the cave below. Lowering himself, he dropped to the ground, a good ten foot. How the Ghouls and the Grave Hag managed to climb up was lost to him. The sound of the rain pattered above him, ringing out through the cavern. It was pitch black as he made his way through, regretting that he hadn't thought to brew some Cat potion. His pupils shifted to give him better vision but it still wasn't true night vision. He slowly drew Fenrir from his back and walked carefully, listening out for the sound of his quarry. He was however greeted with silence, much to his confusion. Something wasn't right. There hadn't been any fresh prints leaving the cave. Moving further along, he came to the hollow of the cavern, and was greeted with a sight he hadn't been expecting. Although he could not make everything out clearly, the bodies of numerous Ghouls and the Grave Hag were littered across the ground, not moving, not breathing, no heartbeats pumping. Just what had happened here? He span around, trying to survey for any signs of what had happened but coming up empty. He moved over to the Grave Hag, kneeling down next to the corpse and beginning an examination. Large claw marks, numerous gashes, her stomach torn open and exposing her leaking guts. Half her face seemed to have been ripped off, and what seemed like puncture marks riddled her torso. Ooze seemed to be spreading from the wounds, as Aradann ran his finger across and sniffed it. Paralysis venom. 'Shit.' His thoughts from examining the fresh corpse of the Grave Hag and having seen the entire Ghoul pack dead, a tremendous feat even for a Witcher led him to one conclusion. And he knew he was not alone in the cave.

The creature dived through the air, almost catching the Witcher off guard, had he not known that something was lurking within the cavern. Still, Aradann did not anticipate such a strong blow and was almost knocked off his feet. He turned hearing the beast give a blood curdling hiss, and his fears were confirmed; a Plaga. Even veteran Witchers were hesitant to fight the monsters, as when there was one, there were usually others, and Aradann could only pray that this was not the case. While the Thunderbolt he had consumed still ran through his veins, the necrophage oil he had applied to Fenrir would now be useless, the Plaga being a Relict, what Witchers referred to as a 'true monster'. The Plaga hissed violently again, before lunging at Aradann. He quickly sidestepped the attack, but not without receiving a slash from the beast's claws on his left arm. Having only read about Plagas before, he had not realised how much a simple scratch from them could be so painful, the claws having ripped clean through the boiled leather and creating a series of deep gouges in his bicep. His instinct was to clutch the wound, but he resisted the urge, quickly forming the Quen sign and activating the glowing shield around him. The Plaga has already moved to the walls and now to the ceiling, having the same ability to traverse surfaces as creatures like Arachnomorphs. It seemed to blend in with the shadows before once again hurtling out from nowhere, crashing into Aradann and shattering the Quen barrier. While not harmed, the force was still more than he had expected. Before he could move, the Plaga had already followed up with another vicious claw swipe, this time across Aradann's right leg. He grunted in pain, and knew that he was in trouble. While the Plaga's claws could not only tear through flesh like a hot knife through butter, they contained an infectious enzyme. To an average human it was deadly, and while Witchers had a heightened tolerance to disease, poisons and infections, they were not immune from them, especially the more potent they were. While Aradann's body would fight the infection, he would need medical attention. He searched into one of the pouches sewn onto his armour, bringing out a light red vial and gulping it down. Swallow was an apt name for the concoction, the symbol of rebirth. The potion would cause wounds to heal at a faster rate than normal, at the cost of causing internal pain while the metabolic system shifted. The Plaga had disappeared once more. Aradann had to get the beast away from the cave, where it had nowhere to hide and strike from the darkness. He made his way to the cave mouth, watching as the Plaga scuttled along the ceiling of the cave after him. He made his best effort to haul himself up the drop, though causing himself agonising pain doing so with his wounds. Still, he had to push through, or he was dead. He pulled himself out of the entrance and into the forest, the Plaga following suit and issuing another murderous hiss. The rain was still pouring, and Aradann was now aware that the ground had become sodden, therefore he would have to be careful not to idly slip on the mud. He went to activate Quen once more but the Plaga had beaten him in terms of speed, having lunged once more at him. Though unlike before, there was no claw swipe; Aradann felt a slimy tongue grip around Fenrir's hilt, and with force, it was yanked from his hand, being tossed over further into the forest. While the Swallow was slowly working, Aradann could feel the blood draining from his open wounds, and tried to focus on his opponent as he felt himself becoming lethargic. The Plaga was beating him, and now he had no weapon. Surveying his surroundings, he remembered from reading on them that although they had many strengths, Plagas were extremely vulnerable to fire. He had to time this perfectly. While there were no available ceilings, the Plaga had latched onto a tree, and was positioning itself to make a leap once more. With no sword, bleeding wounds and a spreading infection, Aradann had to make his planned move count, or he may as well let the creature vanquish him here and now. The Plaga leapt forward like a stone released from a slingshot. Instead of trying to counter or dodge, Aradann faced the oncoming horror and as soon as the vicinity was cleared between the two, he thrust out his right arm, grabbing the Plaga's face and driving it to the ground. Flicking his fingers and releasing a constant stream of Igni, the Plaga howled in pain as the fire burnt and began to slowly melt its face, but not without thrashing around, its claws creating more gashes over Aradann's body. Still he held on, delivering the stream of flames as the beast flailed. He had not however, counted for the strength of the Plaga's tongue. Shooting from it's mouth, it pierced straight through Aradann's right palm, through his hand and exiting from the other side. Aradann screamed in pain and let go of the creature, which was clearly in its dying moments. Aradann clutched his hand with his other, a clear puncture hole all the way through. The Plaga had stopped writhing, lying dead on the floor as Aradann stumbled, caked in mud and rain. He made his way over to where Fenrir had fallen, having to drag himself with all his might with all his wounds now burning in agony. He knew that regardless of the Swallow, he had to seek urgent medical attention. Slowly making his way back to the nunnery, every step of the way in torture, he came to the broken wall and slumped past through it, having now become delirious from the blood loss and the pain of the wounds. Passing halfway through the graveyard, his body gave in, stumbling and crashing into the grass. Try as he may, he could not lift himself, the more effort he tried to put in, the more agony he felt. Slowly, he closed his eyes as the world became blurry, closing them shut and being greeted by the darkness before he passed out, the wind and rain still ravaging the skies.

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Mother Beatrice had set up a room to tend the Witcher when he returned, so Riannon went up to the library, which had a window overlooking the graveyard. She sat by the window, the knot in her stomach growing tighter with each passing minute. The Mother came to check on her a few times bringing food at one point. "Thank you, Mother, but I can't eat right now. Once he is back safe I will eat," she told the elderly women, her eyes never leaving the graveyard. Some time after he had left she saw a form making its way through the headstones. Then it fell and didn't move. Without thinking she was running down the stairs yelling for the sisters to bring a gurney and bursting out the door heading for the place she saw him fall. She knew it was Aradann, and that her fears had come to pass. She pushed through the graveyard gates, slipping in the mud and falling twice before she reached his still form. Her bare feet slipped again, causing her to fall and land on her hands and knees next to him. The sisters were close behind her, being more careful, but it gave Riannon enough time to do a quick examination of some of his wounds as well as place his head on her lap so he wasn't breathing in mud and drowning in the puddles of water that were quickly expanding. When the Sisters arrived they all worked to turn him so he was on his back on the gurney and they all helped carry it inside. Once there Mother Beatrice cleaned his face and removed most of his clothes so she could clean his wounds. A gasp left her lips when she saw the damage and knew that there was nothing they could do for him. Riannon had been standing silently in the corner waiting for directions when the wave of despair hit her like a flood. She knew the Mother couldn't help him and that he was going to die. So, again without thinking of herself, she pushed through her sisters and laid her hands on the man's bare chest. A warm white gold light started to emanate from her hands, making its way from her palms to cover his torso and then his whole body.

The Sisters gasped at the young women as the Mother hung her head in prayer. His wounds began to slowly knit together, scars forming over the deeper cuts. The sisters now understood how Riannon had helped the Mother heal people on their death beds. Fear and awe began to permeate the room, causing Riannon to falter. Mother Beatrice noticed the light flickering and quickly cleared the room of everyone but her, Aradann and Riannon. Beads of sweat were forming on the younger woman's brow which the older one gently patted away with a damp cloth.

"What do you need my daughter?" Beatrice asked as the light became
steady once more and now enveloped the man. "I-this... I need to heal his internal injuries and purge the potions he took. One is interfering with the healing, trying to take over." she replied, her breath becoming heavy. She wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and he was still at death's door. She knew that if she didn't heal the internal damage that the Mother would not be able to take over and pull him through, Beatrice also knowing this.

"Kiss him child. Send your light directly into him." The light flickered again before going out completely as Riannon looked at the Mother shocked at the suggestion. As a follower of the Great Sun such acts were reserved for marriage, and not allowed for nuns. The Mother continued. "We both know you have doubts, and even if you did not, I believe the Great Sun will understand and would not allow you to use his gift in such a way if it was not meant to be. So I will say it again. Kiss him." Even though her thoughts were in an frenzy she did as the mother commanded. Placing her left hand on his abdomen and her right above his heart she leaned forward and tentatively placed her lips against his. After a few moments, she used her tongue to part his lips an focused her magic into her breath. The light from before now consumed them both, and she used her hands to spread the light through his entrails. For several moments she kept her lips locked with his, then pulled away. As the magic returned to her, it bathed her in a glowing aura as his eyes opened briefly.

"You are okay now Aradann. Rest, you still have many injuries that require attention." Riannon whispered then smiled a bit as his eyes closed again and his breathing became normal. As the light faded from around her she looked at The Mother, her eyes filled with hope, then passed out from physical exhaustion. The mother placed the woman on a vacant bed, placed a sheet over her then returned to attend the Witcher. The other sisters were called back in to help. It took two more hours for them to clean, pack and wrap the man's wounds. Riannon slept peacefully the rest of the night.

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Aradann slowly opened his eyes, although saw only a blur of the room before him. Something, or somebody was leaning over him, and he could feel what felt like another's lips connecting with his own. Things quickly became hazy once more and Aradann's eyes closed once more, leading him back into the darkness. He dreamed heavily that night.

*He was back in Velen, seeing through the eyes of his child self. His father and mother stood before him, a happy family. Aradann grew along with the both of them as he worked as a stablehand for the sergeant, Garrett carrying on his work as a hunter, while Lana maintained their home and helped her husband out from time to time with the beasts he brought home. Soon after Aradann's seventh birthday, Garrett never left on that fateful hunting trip and was alive at the end of that day, going out the next and coming back. Life was happy. Aradann never met Eskel, never left for Kaer Morhen, never became a Witcher. As he continued to grow, the sergeant promoted him from a simple stableboy the the horsemaster of Crow's Perch. In that time as a teen, he had begun courting a girl he had known from childhood, Isolde. She was beautiful, with long flowing dark hair and bright green eyes. Soon after his promotion, Aradann had been in talks with her father, a local merchant, to marry her. The marriage was soon confirmed by both families, and took place several weeks later, among the old mansion gardens and square. It was not long after the wedding night that Isolde discovered she was pregnant, much to Aradann's joy and that of both families. Nine months later, Isolde gave birth to a baby girl, the couple naming her Iris. Iris was joined over the next three years by her brother Aedan and sister Anna. The family were happy, while Aradann continued his post as the horsemaster, having become a well respected and influential member of Crow's Perch. He and Isolde grew into old age in happiness as their children grew into adults. It was the life he never had, so real.*

*The dream dissolved to form another, this time located within Kaer Morhen. Aradann had heard the tales from Eskel of how the halls of Kaer Morhen used to be filled with Witchers before the massacre in which most were killed off. But the Kaer Morhen Aradann stood before was no longer a fortress, but merely now a pile of rubble. Aradann had been out on the path, and returned to find there had been another massacre. Everyone he had known lay dead among the stone. Egill was slouched against a large rock with a sword through his gullet, while Freya lay spread over a broken table, her throat having been slashed. Even Gisela had been slaughtered. He had lost two worlds now, collapsing onto his knees in front of his fallen home. He felt a hand on each of his shoulders, as a blade was placed across his neck.*

*“We knew you'd come back. The freaks told us there was one more left, right before they died. And here you are. Now your filth of a caste is finally dead and buried, where it belongs.” The blade slid across his neck, the blood dripping from the cut as he was released, falling to the floor and taking a final glimpse at his fallen comrades as the world went dark.......*

He awoke with a sudden and loud gasp, as if he had been suffocating and managed to breathe again. He found himself in a small room, empty except for the bed he lay on and a small window. Why had he dreamt of Velen, and some alternate life? And then of his comrades being slain by fanatics? His first instinct was to sit upright, although as he did, pain racked his body. The pain was a sign that he had not dreamed up his fight with the monster. He looked down at his body, in astonishment to see the wounds inflicted by the Plaga all but gone. He remembered drinking Swallow, but even that would not have accounted for the sudden healing of the numerous gashes. His eyes went to his right hand. Although stiff with pain when he tried to raise it, the puncture was also gone. The stiffness throughout his body was slowly wearing off, and although slightly dizzy, he now sat for a few moments and swung his legs off the bed. He had little recollection of what had happened after he had collapsed, but apparently someone had performed a miracle. It would also explain why most of his clothes and weapons were missing. Dressed in just a loose fitting pair of linen pants, he tried to stand, losing his balance momentarily but regaining it soon after. Exiting from the room, he found himself in what seemed to be a hallway in the upstairs of the nunnery. As he turned from the room to find the stairs down, Sister Mildreth turned the corner, almost crashing into him.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed as she dropped the bundle of sheets she was carrying. “Sir, you did give me a startle!” Aradann bent down to pick up the sheets, although his limbs still ached. “Now now now.” she fussed, leaning down herself and shooing his assistance away. “You shouldn't be exerting yourself, you should be resting after the state you were in. You do seemed to have healed nicely though.” Aradann slowly stood.

“Thank you, I'm fine. Where can I find Mother Beatrice? I'm afraid I have little recollection of what happened last night, and I need to inform her of the monster situation.”

“Of course, of course.” said Mildreth. The library is down the end of the hallway, wait in there and I shall tell her to meet you there. Oh!” She took one of the sheets from the pile, which turned out to be a plain shirt, handing it to the Witcher. “There you are. We are after all, women of celibacy and it will do this house no good for a man to be walking around half naked.” She departed, and Aradann could swear he heard her make a small chuckle at her joke. He rolled his eyes and made his way to the library. Once inside he took the time to look around the collection, the many books going over a variety of subjects and literal works. He was browsing a copy of some of Dandelion's poetry when Mother Beatrice appeared in the room. Closing the book, he placed it back on the shelf and turned his attention to her.

“I am pleased to see you looking well Master Witcher. You gave us quite the fright last night.” Aradann bowed his head in a quick gesture.

“My apologies. I rid you of your monsters, although there turned out to be one I wasn't expecting, a particularly deadly one. Nevertheless, they will trouble you no more.” He paused, looking pensive. “May I ask, what exactly happened last night? I'm afraid I have hardly any recollection between passing out in the graveyard and waking recently.” Beatrice turned her head to the hallway, and closed the library doors behind them, turning back to Aradann with a serious face.

“When we found you, you were within the grasp of death. Whatever the......thing...you faced was, it had all but torn you to shreds. Gashes, puncture wounds, blood leaking from your body.” She moved across the room to the window, looking out into the distance. The sky was grey outside, and still mildly raining. “She was waiting for you you know? Sat here, staring out into the night waiting for your return.” Aradann was confused for a moment.

“Waiting.....who?” Beatrice turned to him and gave him a witty smile, as if to tell him to not be so naïve.

“Who do you think my dear? I am well aware Sister Mildreth thinks highly of you but I am afraid she is old enough to be your grandmother. The one who healed you of course.” It all made sense now. Aradann knew he had felt a magical energy surrounding Riannon, and that when the plants withered and bloomed in her presence had not been a trick of his imagination.

“Mother Beatrice, if I may.....who is she?” The Mother once again took on a more serious look, but with apparent sadness this time.

“She came to us when she was but a babe. Almost two decades past, the Sisters opened the gates one morn and there she was, wrapped up in a basket. Whoever had left her there had left no note, no explanation, not even the child's name. What were we to do? After all, the Great Sun must have sent her to us for a reason. So we took her in and cared for her as if she were our own, and eventually, she became one of us. She was but a child when I discovered her gift. I know many are still terrified of magic, and that which is different, but I am an old woman. I have seen many things, and the Great Sun creates us all with a plan in mind. Nevertheless, I decided to keep it a secret between her and I. That secret however, came out last night. When you arrived and collapsed, she leapt you your aid with vigour I have never seen, cradling you as if you were her dear lover. When it was clear to us that we did not possess the medical knowledge to help and that you were dying, she showed no hesitation in revealing her gift in front of the Sisters. Some may have called it stupidity or naivety, but that girl displayed more courage last night than we have seen in this abbey since I can remember. You owe her a great deal.” Aradann paused in thought. Had she really done all that for him, a stranger she hardly knew, and moreso, a Witcher?

“I had suspected she possessed a gift from the moment I met her. We Witchers pick up any magical energy around us and she certainly gave it off. I'm interested though. You're a travelled woman obviously. How do you explain her resemblance to Isabella Leuvaarden?” At this, the Mother sighed.

“I have always had my suspicions. Out of our cloister, I am the only one to have seen the Empress's face. And whenever we have had travellers come, I have tried to keep Riannon hidden as much as possible, lest she be recognised.” She paused, seeming to weigh up a decision in her mind. “A long time ago, I happened to hear a rumour that when the younger of the Leuvaarden twins had died, she had in fact disappeared, without a trace. I did not see it until Riannon grew and I had the pleasure of meeting Isabella for the first time. Even she seems to remain unaware of her sister, seeing as they would have been so young when it happened. It may be pure coincidence, but it is my sole belief that Riannon is the younger Leuvaarden sister. But she lives a new life now, and it is better for her to stay that way. She is safe here with us. Here she has a family, companionship. To throw her suddenly into a new life of nobility and politics would do the girl a world of harm, especially as a mage. Her own sister is the Empress of Nilfgaard, it would be seen as a scandal, and was very likely the reason as to why Riannon was left with us in the first place.” Her words were becoming heated and full of passion and protection for the girl, as she took a deep breath. “Now. We must get you back to rest.” Aradann gave a caring grin and shook his head slightly.

“Thank you for your concern Mother, but I am fine. In fact, I must get back to Novigrad. My friends are waiting for me, as we are here as envoys of the caste for the festivities, and also on another contract.” Beatrice looked slightly doubtful but formed her face into a smile.

“As you wish. Your possessions have been left in the chapel, sewn back together, fresh and washed of course. As for your reward....” Aradann stopped her as the two walked through the hallway.

“I know the nunnery has little to offer, and I was happy to help. You have all been so kind, and that is reward in itself. Most wouldn't waste their spit on a Witcher, let alone help heal and patch them up.” They reached the chapel, Beatrice leaving the room while Aradann dressed himself. He returned to her, waiting for him in the main hall.

“I thank you for all you and the Sisters have done for me Mother.” He bowed his head once more. “If it would be at all possible, may I speak with Riannon before I leave?” The Mother gave a cheeky grin.

“It should be us thanking you Aradann, for both ridding us of our monster problem and avenging our fallen sister. Riannon is resting currently.” Hearing the words, Aradann felt a pang of disenheartment, bowing his head again and turning to leave. The Mother chuckled, as if she found his naivety to be most humorous.

“But I will see what I can do.”

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*Riannon stood in her garden by the pond, her fingers playing in the water idly as she daydreamed. Each pass of her fingers sent ringlets over the surface distorting her reflection before became clear again and she repeated the action. Suddenly her reflection stopped distorting and glared at her. ”What are you doing!? Aradann needs help! Mother Beatrice needs help! Why are you sitting here like a fool?” Her other self exclaimed and questioned.\**

*”What do you mean? Both of them are fine, I just saw them on my way here.” She replied.*

*”You kissed the man and you think everything is alright?!? The Great Sun is going to punish you all. Not just for the kiss, but for revealing your gift. He gave it to you and you showed everyone.”*

*”But the Mother said he would understand, and that if he hadn’t planned on me kissing the Witcher he would have never allowed it. Moreover, I have only hidden my gift for Mother Beatrice’s sake. She made me promise. I kept that promise. I had no other option but to show them. If I hadn’t he would have died!”*

*”What if that was his fate? What if the Great Sun was calling him to his side? Who are you, you weak faithless child, to decide who lives and who dies?” Those words had kept repeating in Riannon’s mind as she laid in her bed staring up at the ceiling.*

*’Who are you?’*

*“I am Riannon”*

*’Weak, faithless child...’*

*“I am not weak, I do have faith”*

*’The Great Sun is going to punish you...’*

*“Why would he punish me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”*

*’You kissed the man...’*

*“My first kiss…”*

She was brought from her musing when the mother knocked on her door. Sitting up she called for her to enter.

“How are you my dear?”Her brow was furrowed in worry.

“I am okay Mother Beatrice, Just tired. You know how I get after using my gift. However, I might have over extended it a little this time. How is he?” She questioned her own worry showing on her face as she played with the blankets edge. “He is recovering nicely, thanks to you. He wishes to speak with you before he leaves. Are you up for a visit?”

“Yes, I would like to see how he is doing for myself before he leaves. I also have a few questions for him. Please bring him here?” she relaxed at the news of his heath and was smiling softly as the older woman nodded then went to fetch the man.

”See, they are both fine. The Great Sun is not angry… Though, I do wonder if he ever was. Is he even truly a God? What am I doing here? I do not believe like the Mother, or Sisters, and I can feel the looks and whispers from the others. Why am I here?”

“Because it is home and they are your family.” She answered her own thoughts aloud, hoping to feel the comfort that normally came with those words, but instead her stomach sunk and her heart tightened. The abbey had changed since the night before. Or, more accurately, she had changed. Hopefully for the better.

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As he waited in the main hall, he looked towards the altar, with its golden statue of the Great Sun. He had never been one for religion, finding little purpose in it. While he understood its purpose, he had observed time and time again how it could turn even the most dignified into little more than baying animals. No greater had the example been than the Witch Hunts conducted by the Eternal Fire, turning ordinary civilised citizens into bloodthirsty wolves, crying out for the deaths of many men, women and children, when they had done nothing but be accused. Human nature disgusted him at times. How could society claim to be tolerant and progressive when if one man told you something was a fact, people were ready to lose their minds once more and gun for carnage?

Still, at least from what he had seen, the Sisters here were the furthest opposed from violence he could imagine. Mother Beatrice reappeared from a staircase, making her way down slowly before she came to stand in front of him.

“She is anxious to see you, but needs her rest. She is staying in her room, which under normal circumstances we would not allow one from outside our cloister to enter, let alone a man....” she said, mischievously eyeing him up and down. “But alas, rules are meant to be broken. Go to her.” Aradann bowed his head to the Mother and made his way to Riannon's room, knocking on her door. Once he was given to go ahead, he entered the room to see her sat up while lying on her bed.

“The Mother told me that I owe you a great deal of thanks.” He stood perched in the doorway, arms crossed but relaxed as he spoke. “She also told me you wished to see me. Truth be told, I could not leave before seeing you and thanking you for everything.” She began to blush at his words.

“You have been kind to us all here Master Witcher. Most who visit our nunnery do so with high expectancies and little thanks, but not only did you save us all, you were kind to us. To me. I had heard tales of your caste before of course, but my impressions were not always of the best. You changed that for me. Come, please sit.” she said, patting the edge of the bed. Aradann accepted the invitation and moved over to her side, removing his swords and placing them by the wall before sitting beside her. “I....I know you must go now that you have completed your contract but.....could you stay for a while longer? I have so many questions about recent events, the world around us and......who I am.” Her expression became slightly darkened, but changed back to a rosy smile as she looked up at him.

“I owe you my life Sister, therefore I am at your service. Anything you wish to know, I will answer as best I can.” She blushed once more and moved her hand to his knee.

“Please......call me Riannon.” Aradann nodded to her request. “When you came back to us, I was so afraid. Seeing you there, so close to death.....I couldn't just stand there and let you die. Not after everything you had done for us, after what you had done for me. How are you feeling? And if I can ask.....what was it that attacked you?” There was no point in lying to her, nor did Aradann feel the desire to do so.

“And once again, I am in debt to you. I am well, thanks to you.” He placed his hand on her own. “As for what it was......when I conducted my initial search, the clues revealed that the monsters responsible were a pack of Ghouls and a Grave Hag. However, when I came upon their cave, they were all dead, killed by a creature called a Plaga.” Riannon's interest seemed to peak. “They are nightmarish creatures, with a thirst for death and no mercy to show. In truth, I had only come across them in the books at Kaer Morhen, but never actually faced one. The blade oil I had brewed had been intended for the necrophages, and was of no use against the Plaga. Books alone cannot teach you everything, and I was not fully prepared to deal with the monster. Although I dispatched it, it quite nearly cost me my life, as you clearly saw.” Riannon still gauzed her interest, but turned away, looking out her window.

“Do you remember much after you killed the Plaga?” From her tone, he could tell that rather than asking him in general, she was asking him if he remembered something specific, something that she hoped he would.

“I'm afraid not. Whether it was the blood loss or the disorientation, after I must have passed out, I remember nothing from the night till I woke. I do however remember dreaming quite vividly.” She seemed to perk up once more, her interest re-ignited.

“About what if I may ask?”

“Well. I first dreamt about my life had my parents survived and had I not become a Witcher.”

“What happened? I mean...if it's not too imposing to ask.”

“I grew up, helped my parents, worked for the local sergeant as a stablehand. I got married, had children, lived happily till I was old. Simple village life I suppose. I then dreamed that Kaer Morhen was attacked, and that the Witchers were no more. I saw them all dead...Egill and Freya, Eskel, Lambert, Geralt...and then they came for me.” He lowered his head slightly as she formed an expression of sympathy.

“What was it like, where you were born?” He forget sometimes that he was one of the few people in the world who could be considered well travelled.

“Crow's Perch was....is I suppose, for it's still standing as far as I know, a fairly large village surrounded by a barricade in Northern Velen. It was like most villages I suppose, apart from that there was a large wooden mansion where the old ruler lived. After he left, his second-in-command, the sergeant took over, and he was a harsh brutish man. I imagine he's since passed.” There was a moment's silence between the two.

“Have you.....ever met anyone who can....who has gifts? Who can do what I do? And if so, do you know if anyone could help me learn?” Aradann was knocked off guard by the question.

“I have. There are several Sorceresses who are friend of our caste, particularly the Wolf School, with two in particular being notable allies. Yennefer and Triss, who I spoke of yesterday. As for if they would teach you......I'm not sure what boundaries are set here in terms of visitors, or even your magical abilities. So I'm afraid I can't help you there.” Her face became downhearted, which he understood. It must be difficult for her.

“Where are you going once you leave?” she asked timidly.

“Back to Novigrad. I have to meet with the Emperor and the Empress in regards to the coronation festivities, and my friends and I are on a contract as it is, I merely took this one on while we had some spare time.” Riannon sighed, with a mix or happiness and sadness.

“How I would love to be part of a Royal ball or another celebration someday. And be fitted in a fine gown and....” she paused, her eyes fluttering up to him. “...maybe meet someone.” She paused again, smiling at him but with pain in her eyes. “Will I ever see you again?” Aradann felt conflicted. On the one hand, he had known this girl for just under a day, but still, he felt an odd connection with her. After their talk by the fire last night, he had come to consider her a friend, one of the few he truly had. But he couldn't lie to her, or give her false hope.

“My life is on the path, and I could never make a promise to be in one place or another again in my lifetime. Of course, if I ever do travel within vicinity of Alness again, I will do my best to visit. But I can't promise you I'll ever be back. What I can promise you though, is that I'll never forget you.” The two fell silent, with Aradann placing his hand on her knee this time. “Thank you for all you've done.” He wanted to show her how much he appreciated everything, but it was time to go, and he couldn't risk anything more. The likely odds were he'd never see her again, and as Mother Beatrice had discussed with him, she did not want Riannon's true self revealed. And so she would stay, and he would go. He stood from the bed and gathered his swords then looked at her once more. While he could see she was smiling as trying to stay strong, her eyes betrayed her, showing her sadness. Before he could change his mind, he exited from the room, closing the door behind him. As he left, even without his enhanced hearing he could make out several muffled sobs coming from her room. Had he done the right thing? He made his way down the stairs, and was greeted in the hall by Mother Beatrice and Sister Mildreth.

“Master Witcher, we wish you well on your way, and we pray to the Great Sun that he will shine his light down upon you. If there is anything else we can do for you, please name it. We owe you a great debt.”

“Thank you Mother. Your hospitality has been beyond anything I have warranted and I was happy to assist. I bid you farewell, and hope the Great Sun guides you.” Aradann turned on his heel and made his way to the nunnery entrance. Once outside, he found Bheith where had left him, enjoying chewing on a pile of hay. Aradann patted him down and smiled.

“Good to see you boy. I missed you. Now, let's get back to Novigrad. We've got people to see, things to do. And no doubt Zoltan will want to skin us alive for missing his roast pheasant.” Climbing atop Bheith, the two made their way from the nunnery and down the woodland path as a trot, with Aradann turning back to the building and looking to the window of Riannon's room, overlooking the path. But nothing. He was still unsure about what the future held and if he had made the right choice, but he knew he must hold true to his own journey. Turning his head back to the path ahead, he and Bheith began the journey back to Novigrad.