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Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Novigrad
Rosemary and Thyme
Dandelion slammed his mug on the table, feeling the ale take effect. He would have preferred wine, but something stronger was necessary for the occasion.
"Threw the temple to the sea with his bare hands, you say?" he said, burping to his closed fist.
"I saw it, as did many others," Triss said, shuddering. By now Radovid and Emhyr must be scrambling to respond to the new power on the board.
Zoltan filled his mug again. "What now?" At last, the city was free from the witch hunts and Radovid's influence. Even if it had not come the way anyone imagined.
"Now, I pay a visit to Whoreson Junior," Geralt said, a rare, furious tone seeping into his voice.
Triss grimaced. "Maybe you should let him know. I don't think a man like him would appreciate someone butchering a gang without his permission. He might even send help."
"We have to find Whoreson first," Zoltan added. Triss was right. A rooster wouldn't have anyone causing trouble in his coop.
"This Robert, what is he like?" Dandelion asked. He didn't know where Whoreson was now, and he wanted to thank the person who saved his life first.
"Besides his strength? He didn't seem uptight and even made a joke about me being an assassin. Doesn't seem to care too much about titles and the protocol most nobles expect to be treated with." It was a breath of fresh air from the stifling atmosphere of the noble courts she was used to.
"Yeah. A nice change compared to the likes of Emhyr," he said, remembering the emperor's demands just for an audience.
Dandelion leaped to his feet, a finger raised. "I shall send him the finest gifts I can find."
"Try ale. Seems the type to like it," he suggested. The man was fond of alcohol, even if he didn't seem the type to drink in excess. The wine in his office wasn't exactly the best around. A barrel or two of good stuff would surely get him on his good graces.
"After you get the phylactery, where will you go?" she asked, cursing herself for it in her mind. No matter how much she wanted him to stay, she could not bring herself to say it.
"I need coin; there are some commissions I saw around the town. I'll take them and then follow Ciri's trail. She was also seen in Skellige. I honestly thought this would have taken much longer."
"Aye, we are lucky this new lord isn't a cunt like the Hierarch."
That got a good laugh out of everyone.
—
Administrative Center
"Bard here says he brought ale," Wun Weg called from the door.
Robert raised an eyebrow. Could it be? "Let him in."
Dandelion, the colorful bard companion of Geralt, and Zoltan, his dwarf companion, came in, carrying a barrel with them.
They lowered the barrel to the ground, bowing. "My lord," they said.
He gestured to the two empty seats. "Master Bard, please, take a seat, your companion too."
"My gratitudes, Lord Robert. I am Dandelion, and this is Zoltan Chivay, my friend and business partner.""
Robert gave a small nod at the dwarf.
"Ah, I believe you are Geralt and Triss' friend," he said. It was difficult to act since he wasn't in the mood, but they had no reason to question it.
"Indeed. They told me of how I owe my life to you. It is not much, but I brought your four barrels of the finest ale in our cellars."
"Much appreciated. I do like ale," he said, pulling the cork off. He filled three cups, laying them on the table. "Chilled or not?"
"Chilled?" Dandelion asked, brows furrowed.
He brought his hand over the ales, draining the heat, causing ice crystals to form around the cups. He took a sip, appreciating the sweet taste.
"Quite the handy ability, my lord. It appears your talents in elemental magic are many." The word of his hellish flames and furious lightning was already spread everywhere in the city. The ice was new.
"Not really. I didn't use ice; I simply drained the heat from the cup."
"Ingenious." He took a sip, feeling the change in the ale. It had become thicker, but the cold gave it a new taste.
"Did Geralt have any luck in his search for his daughter?" he asked. He considered a way to send Geralt directly to where he had to go, but in the end, the Witcher had to solve the problems he encountered along the way for the best overall results.
"Daughter?" Dandelion asked. For all that it was true, neither side called each other daughter or father.
"Yes, Lady Triss did say he was searching for his daughter."
"I told him all I can, but she is no longer in the city."
"I am sure he will succeed."
They fell silent, though Dandelion kept glancing at his sword.
He held the cup towards the bard. "You are curious about something; ask."
"I have read and witnessed the tale of many sorcerers, monsters, spirits, jinns, and more. None boasted your strength."
He huffed, amused, and took his left gauntlet off, exposing the blue arm. "I took this from Argall, sea god and my ancestor from eight thousand years ago, after his wife, the goddess of wind, took mine."
"And this, I got it from R'hllor, the god of light and the first one I slew, beneath the catacombs of the Temple of the Lord of Light."
They blinked with open mouths as Robert waited for his words to register.
"You killed gods? Bollocks." Zoltan scowled. He heard many unbelievable tales. This was just bullshit.
"My home lies west of this continent. Should your path ever lead you there, you might want to visit Volantis, or at least, the hole that remained after R'hllor exploded."
"Volantis?" Dandelion asked. Triss had already mentioned that Robert's home was in the west, in a never-before-discovered continent.
"One of the oldest and most populous cities on Essos. Over a million souls, mostly slaves, called it home. When R'hllor died, he took the whole city with him."
"Shite," Zoltan said. He didn't know if he would ever get around to checking that, but his gut told him Robert wasn't lying.
"Your disbelief is understandable."
"May I ask some more, my lord? I believe this will make for a legendary song," Dandelion said, taking out a quill and a piece of paper.
A bard must always be ready for these occasions.
Robert chuckled, draining his cup. "What's another song in my name? Go ahead."
—
Rosemary and Thyme
Geralt returned to the tavern, only to find Dandelion and Zoltan drunk out of their minds. He helped them to their rooms, getting confused with their drunken murmurs. He didn't know what they meant by "godslayer," but it couldn't be anything good.
He would ask them tomorrow morning.
—
Administrative Center
Robert put his feet on the table, considering Sandor's words. He had been active in the city, gathering information. Of course he knew more, but he couldn't reveal it like that.
Sigismund Dijkstra, responsible for smuggling. Francis Bedlam, the King of Beggars, the informant. Carlo Varese, a.k.a. Cleaver, extortionist and loan shark. And finally, Cyprian Wiley, otherwise known as Whoreson Junior, who runs casinos and fight arenas.
The four bosses of the underworld were in a state of disarray as Whoreson had betrayed the other three, allying himself with Radovid.
"We need a coordinated strike to wipe them all out at once. No one gets away," he said. Crime bosses in a city he was ruling, even if it was a short-term gig out of necessity, were not going to happen.
"We can take the three out and leave Whoreson for later since they are enemies," Sandor suggested.
"If those three die in a single night, even he would have to worry. Still, we need their locations first." He glanced at the glass candle. It would take a bit of work with it to find all four bosses.
"All the sorcerers left the city. There is no one else."
Robert put his finger on the map, right over Oxenfurt. "Yes, but fortunately for us, Oxenfurt has imprisoned several sorceresses. If rescued, I am sure they would be willing to work for me."
Sandor bowed his head. "Give the word, and I will bring them all here."
"Take the boys and Wun Weg. Free everyone else while you are there."
"At once."
—
Oxenfurt
Deireadh Prison
For the people imprisoned inside, Deireadh was hell. There was no escape, for only one person had succeeded, and his method was no longer viable. There was no light, no mercy, only enough food and water to keep them alive.
So they could be tortured more.
The Witcher Hunters and the Redenian soldiers patrolling the prison were not prepared for two winged shadows darkening the sun. Even less so when a man and a giant fell from the sky, bathed in lightning and flames, respectively.
Sandor's eyes locked on the nearest Witch Hunter, and he saw nothing else. The man turned around to run, to call for help, but in his vision, he slowed down to a crawl. He leaped forward, sword at the ready, cleaving him in half from shoulder to hip, armor and flesh both.
He turned to the next one, taking his head off before the first corpse hit the ground. He proceeded to the main building where the cells were, butchering a man with each step.
Wun Weg was too big to fit inside.
He charged at the nearest human, not even bothering to use his hammer. He simply flattened the man on the ground, causing his chest and head to burst apart like a rotten watermelon. He slammed another through the walls of an armory. More poured out of the various buildings, weapons and shields at the ready.
Wun Weg roared out in challenge, letting out a curse in the old tongue. The humans trembled but were not discouraged from carrying out their duty.
Yet.
The giant continued his flaming rampage, an unstoppable spear of destruction carving through the enemy.
—
There were more men inside, both hunters and soldiers. All they saw was two infernal blue eyes and then darkness. Two were getting ready to fight on the first floor, only to be cut in half. He let the carcasses be, moving down to the cells.
He appeared before one hunter, hand grabbing his face and crushing it into a mess. He punched through the second one and twisted the third one's head to the back.
The only sound left was the painful murmur of disbelief.
"Who, who are you?" she asked, unsure if the pain had become so horrible she was hallucinating a three-dog-headed man.
"You are a sorceress, yes?" he asked, voice gruff but ultimately human.
"I am. Margarita Laux-Antille, and this is Sile de Tanserville. We are the only ones left."
"My lord has need of your talents. You will be safe and sound under his protection."
The other female coughed, a dry, hoarse voice struggling to leave her lips. "Margarita, leave me. My wounds..."
"Your wounds will be healed," he said, ripping the door off, scaring the sorceresses.
He bridally carried Sile, wincing at her groans, while helping Margarita to her feet.
—
When he left the cells and stood outside, there were only corpses, some crushed to death, others burned to ash.
Wun Weg barreled through the building, bringing it down. The rest of the prison was already burning under dragon fire.
"Come, we are leaving," he said to the giant. He gave a gruff grunt, taking the human female and jumping.
Margarita screamed as her feet left the ground.
All of Oxenfurt saw the mushroom-shaped cloud that left nothing of the most secure prison in the city.
—
Novigrad
Margarita was too worried about Sile to inquire about the fact that they were riding on a dragon that could talk. By no means was she ignorant. Her priorities simply did not allow her to ask any questions.
The dragons landed on the Hierarch's Square, causing the civilians to flee. While they were quickly becoming a common sight, it did not change the fact that they were enormous beasts capable of burning the city down.
They were escorted inside, in broad daylight, and no one raised any objection, not even the clerks of the Temple of the Eternal Fire. Even in her worried state, the reason became evident.
Whatever was waiting for her on the second floor, most likely the lord of this man who had saved them, was terrifying. Her senses, blinded as they were, screamed in protest.
The door opened and she stood before a man, or at least, a creature in the form of one.
"My lord, we only found two people alive. She is on death's door," Sandor said, glancing at the bruised face of the woman he was carrying. He had seen a lot of shitty sights, but this was one of the worst.
The man turned around, the crown of flames and lightning around his head creating a matching scheme with his ears. He was taller than any man she had ever seen and exuded an incredible aura of power.
"My lord," she began, ready to plead for a healer. The man raised his left one, which was blue for some reason. He pulled a crystal from his pocket, raising it towards them.
Margarita felt her wounds burn. Coupled with her tired, dehydrated, and starving state, she fainted.
"There is a tavern, Rosemary and Thyme. Tell Bard Dandelion and Zoltan Chivay that these two are my guests and their expenses will be covered by me," he ordered. Those two deserved a good rest before any work could be done.
And Sandor had saved Sile too, which was a nice bonus.
Sandor nodded, moving out as he carried the woman. Wun Weg followed him, throwing Margarita over his shoulder.
—
Oxenfurt
HMS Oxenfurt-Tretogor
"What?!" Radovid asked, rising from his seat, glaring at the messenger. He did not expect the source of the explosion that shook the city to originate from Deireadh. Less so with the reasons behind it.
The messenger's throat bobbed once more as he knelt, hoping to avoid the king's fury. "The dragon lord's beasts and men attacked the prison. They took Sile de Tanserville and Margarita Laux-Antille. The other, less important prisoners escaped too. As they were fleeing, one of the dragons reduced the prison to nothing."
He kicked the chair away, feeling something hot, ugly stir inside him. "You imbeciles. You should have killed all the prisoners by now."
"The men were questioning them, my king," he excused.
"And?" Radovid pulled him up by the hair, a still, focused glint in his eyes. "Did they learn anything of value?"
"All the men are dead too," he grunted out, losing control of certain muscles in his body. Thankfully, Radovid was too furious to realize what it was.
"Out!" he screamed, throwing the man away as the last vestige of his patience disappeared. Any more, and he would throttle the fool.
He ran without looking back.
—
In the next chapter:
He crossed his arms, eyes opening a tad wider, smiling. "Did it include two dragons, a giant, a warrior with three hound heads, and a godslayer?" Though, she was unlikely to know what Robert claimed to be.
"Yes, at least for the majority…" She froze as Geralt's words registered on her sleepy mind, which woke her up.
She shivered, looking at the smirk on the Witcher's lips. "Then it wasn't a dream."
Geralt nodded.
"Ah."
"How is Sile?" He had not expected to see either of them again. While he and the Lodge didn't see eye to eye much, no one deserved Radovid.
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