The inn had grown louder as the night settled in, with music and what came with too much drink and too little sense. Laughter rose and fell, tankards slammed against tables, chairs scraped over wood, but none of it touched Sebastian.
He sat alone in the corner, shoulders slightly forward, one hand wrapped loosely around his cup.
The drink was strong and bitter, but he barely tasted it.
His thoughts were elsewhere, still in that cellar, still in that cave of rot and death.
He poured another cup.
Drank it slower this time, the fire crackled nearby, casting shifting shadows across the walls, then the bench across from him creaked.
Sebastian didn't look up as three men sat in his table.
The smell reached him first, vodka, sweat, and the careless arrogance that came with both.
"Well now," one of them said, leaning forward onto the table like he owned it. "Didn't think your kind drank among decent folk."
Another laughed, nudging his companion.
"Maybe he doesn't understand us," he said. "You deaf, freak?"
Sebastian lifted the cup again and drank, completely Ignoring them.
The first man leaned in closer, squinting at his eyes.
"Look at that," he muttered. "Cat eyes. Gods… it makes my skin crawl."
The third one spoke up, voice louder now.
"I heard something about you lot," he said. "That you suck the blood of infants. That true?"
"Wouldn't surprise me." he snorted.
Still nothing Sebastian as he set the cup down this time, his fingers lingering on it for a second before releasing.
They took the silence as invitation.
"Two swords," one of them went on, gesturing lazily toward Sebastian's back. "That's a lot of steel for one man."
A grin spread across his face.
"Tell me, Witcher… you got two pricks too?"
The table burst into laughter.
"That'd be something, eh?"
"Bet the whores would pay extra..."
They kept going.
Louder and more obnoxious, more desperate for a reaction.
"…What, you really must be deaf?" one finally snapped, slapping the table. "Or just too stupid to answer?"
Sebastian exhaled quietly as he finished his drink, he set the cup down with a soft sound.
Then finally, he looked up, he was not angry or even annoyed.
"I'm not exactly in a good mood," he said calmly.
The table quieted just a little.
"But even I know," he continued, eyes moving between them slowly, "that it's not a good idea to approach an armed Witcher…"
He paused for a moment.
"…let alone one who isn't in a good mood."
One of them scoffed.
Sebastian leaned back slightly.
"You're drunk," he added. "So I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that."
He gestured faintly toward the rest of the inn.
"Go find another table."
There was silence for a moment.
Then,
"Oh," the first man said, grinning wide. "So you can talk after all."
He didn't wait, his fist came swinging across the table, sloppy but fast enough for a drunk.
It never landed.
Sebastian caught it mid-air.
Didn't even turn his head, his hand closed around the man's fist like iron.
Sebastian sighed.
"…Fuck."
Then everything moved at once.
The man whose punch had been stopped yelped as Sebastian twisted his wrist just enough to drop him forward, straight into the table. His face hit wood with a dull crack.
The second man attacked from the side.
Sebastian shifted in his seat, rising halfway, his elbow driving back into the man's ribs with a sharp strike. Air left the man in a choking gasp before Sebastian followed it with a short, brutal hook to the jaw.
He dropped instantly.
The third one hesitated, just for a second.
But that was enough, Sebastian stepped in.
One hand grabbed the man's collar, pulling him forward while his other fist came up in a clean arc.
The impact snapped the man's head back.
He went limp before he even hit the ground.
The first man tried to recover, half-rising, dazed.
Sebastian didn't even give him the chance.
A quick, downward strike sent him sprawling again.
Then there was silence.
Ten seconds or maybe less it was all it took for three bodies lay scattered around the table, unmoving except for shallow, groaning breaths.
The entire inn had gone quiet.
Tankards frozen mid-air.
Eyes wide, the innkeeper stared, mouth slightly open, as if unsure whether to shout… or shut up.
Sebastian rolled his shoulder once, flexing his fingers.
Then he looked down at the unconscious men.
"…Thanks," he said flatly. "I kind of needed that."
Then, almost as an afterthought,
"And for the record…"
He glanced at them one last time.
"I've got one prick."
He turned and walked away from the table like nothing had happened.
The room parted for him without a word.
No one spoke, no one dared to say anything about it.
The stairs creaked softly as he climbed them, disappearing toward the room he rented.
And only then did the noise slowly begin to return.
.
.
.
The next morning came late.
Sebastian became aware of it not through light, but through movement, a firm hand on his shoulder, and it wasn't gentle.
"Get up, damn it!"
Vesemir's voice cut through his sleep.
"I told you not to drink yourself senseless! You are an easy target to robb like this!"
Sebastian groaned low under his breath, one arm dragging over his face as he forced his eyes open.
"I'm up…" he muttered, voice rough. "I'm up."
He pushed himself upright, rubbing his hair.
Vesemir stood nearby, already fully dressed, gear strapped, the look on his face wasn't nice.
"About time," he said. "It's nearly noon."
Sebastian blinked once.
"…Noon?"
"Aye," Vesemir replied dryly. "Sun's been up long enough to shame you twice over."
Sebastian let out a breath through his nose, shaking off the last of the sleep as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"I've heard about what happened last night," Vesemir added, arms crossing. "Innkeep was more than happy to tell the tale."
Sebastian glanced up at him.
"…Yeah," he said simply. "Didn't have much of a choice."
Vesemir watched him for a moment.
"Well," he said after a beat, "good thing you didn't spill blood."
Sebastian stood, stretching slightly, rolling his shoulder once.
"I was careful, I'm not stupid to kill without good reason."
That seemed to satisfy Vesemir enough.
Sebastian reached for his gear without another word, armor ready, the twin swords across his back, steel and silver.
He straightened, adjusting the straps once.
"I assume you're leaving now," he said, glancing over.
Vesemir gave a single nod.
"Indeed, that's why I woke you up."
He stepped toward the door, pausing just before it.
"As for you…" he added, looking back, "…you're free to go wherever the Path takes you."
There was a pause.
"I know you're ready," he said. "More than ready."
His tone shifted, just slightly.
"But that doesn't mean the world out there will play fair, Sebastian."
Sebastian met his gaze.
"I know."
Vesemir then gave a small nod.
"Good."
They left the room together, descending into the quieter morning of the inn. The noise from the night before had long since faded, replaced by the low murmur of early patrons and the clatter of simple meals being served.
No one bothered them this time.
Outside, the city was already alive again and Vesemir's horse waited where he'd left it, reins tied loosely. The old witcher moved with ease as he mounted, settling into the saddle.
He looked down at Sebastian.
"This is where we part," he said.
Sebastian stepped closer, extending his forearm.
Vesemir clasped it firmly.
"Good luck on the path," Vesemir added.
Sebastian smirked faintly.
"I'll do my best."
Vesemir released him, pulling the reins slightly.
"And Seb…"
He paused.
"Make it back to Kaer Morhen this winter."
Sebastian nodded once.
"I will."
That was enough.
Vesemir turned the horse, giving a short nudge. The animal moved forward, hooves striking against stone as he rode off into the flow of the city.
Sebastian watched him go for a moment.
Then he shook his head lightly with a faint smile.
"…Way too protective sometimes."
Then suddenly a hammer struck wood nearby.
Sebastian's gaze shifted.
A man stood by a notice board just outside the inn, driving a nail through a fresh parchment. The paper fluttered slightly with each strike, still loose at the edges.
Sebastian stepped closer without thinking, his eyes already scanning the words as they settled into place.
The man was still hammering and still adjusting the parchment.
But Sebastian had already read enough, his expression didn't change at first.
Then, just slightly his eyes narrowed.
Then widened only for a second.
Something in the text had caught him off guard.
Something totally unexpected, the man stepped back, satisfied with his work, unaware of the reaction he'd just drawn. And Sebastian just stood there, staring at the notice.
/-\
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