Sebastian was quiet for a moment after Djikstra's question, the women's hands were on his shoulders now, working out knots he didn't know he had.
"Do I like Novigrad.." Sebastian said slowly, "A yes and no, it's hard to explain."
Dijkstra laughed. "I'll answer for you, no one does. Not really, especially not right now. The city is going to shits, the Temple Guard and the Church of the Eternal Fire are becoming more and more ridiculous by the day." He paused, his expression darkening. "I have intel that would throw this city into chaos, before the chaos."
Sebastian sighed, he opened his eyes and looked at Dijkstra.
"They will establish witch hunters," Sebastian said. "They will start hunting mages and anyone who practices magic, and anyone who even owns magical items."
Dijkstra's eyes went wide. He stared at Sebastian, his casual composure shattered for just a moment.
"What..." Dijkstra leaned forward. "How did you.."
Sebastian shrugged. "I can smell it, it's practically everywhere in the city. I saw the majority of the non-humans outside the city gates, living like shit and cattle. Even here, inside the walls, I heard what the priests of the Eternal Fire whisper when they think no one is listening,I heard how they speak about mages." He met Dijkstra's eyes. "It's only the beginning, a start of something much more serious."
Dijkstra stared at him. Then he smiled, surprised and impressed.
"Well, well," Dijkstra said. "You are smarter than Geralt, at least." He shook his head. "The new king is a fool... He's the one responsible for this, he doesn't realize that while mages and sorceresses are all scheming cunts, they are still useful. They are a power that the North requires to battle the South, controlling them is far more efficient than killing them."
Seb leaned closer. "Sorry. Why are you telling me all of this?"
Dijkstra's smile returned. "Right, my apologies... though I do insist on something." He stood, water streaming from his broad frame. "You should come to my office later, Witcher Sebastian. I might have work for you." He paused. "Of course, I'll provide coin. I know you witchers won't lift a finger without pay."
He stepped out of the pool, collected his cane, and walked away without looking back.
Sebastian watched him go, his expression unreadable and the women continued their work. They had moved down his arms now, carefully washing the grime from between his fingers.
One of them the bold one, the one who had told him to stay still pressed closer. Her hand moved up his arm, across his chest, toward the edge of his towel.
Sebastian caught her wrist.
Her eyes met his. Her smile was teasing, unrepentant and she did not pull away.
"I'm just playing with ya," she said. Her voice was low, amused. "Can't blame a girl for trying."
Sebastian held her gaze for a moment, then he released her wrist.
"Just playing," he repeated.
She laughed, soft and warmly, and resumed her work, more professional this time, though her smile never faded.
Sebastian closed his eyes.
'Dijkstra huh,' he thought. 'Geralt and his shady friends...'
He sighed.
'All he needed was one look, and he could tell I'm Nilfgaardian. Are we really that easy to distinguish from Northerners?'
The water lapped against his chest, the women's hands worked their magic. The steam rose around him like a blanket and Sebastian let himself drift.
.
.
.
.
The warmth of the bathhouse had seeped into Sebastian's bones, loosening muscles that had been tight for days, softening the edges of his exhaustion. He had not meant to fall asleep, he had simply closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steam and the gentle hands of the girls carry him away.
The smack to his head was firm and utterly without mercy.
"Wha.." Sebastian's eyes flew open. His hand shot toward his back, reaching for a sword that was not there. For a moment, the instincts took over.
Then he saw Lambert's face, hovering above him with an amused look on his face.
"Unguarded even here?" Lambert said, shaking his head. "What the hell, Seb?"
Sebastian blinked the sleep from his eyes. The women who had been attending him had gone, their work complete. The steam still rose around him, thick and warm. The water had cooled slightly.
"Damn it, Lambert!" Sebastian rubbed his head where Lambert had struck him. "Every time! It's a damn bathhouse, nothing is going to happen here."
Lambert's smirk widened. "Well, not like anything can harm you." He shrugged. "But get up. It's time to go." He paused, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Remember the auction?"
Sebastian's grogginess evaporated. He sat up straighter, water sluicing from his shoulders.
"Right," Sebastian said. "The auction."
He rose from the pool, water streaming down his body, and reached for the towel that one of the attendants had left for him. He dried himself quickly.
The changing room was empty when he entered. His clothes had been cleaned not perfectly, but enough to be presentable. He dressed with the same quickness, checking the straps and buckles that held his gear in place.
He had just finished when the door opened.
Happen entered first, his expression as neutral as ever. Behind him came Dijkstra, his cane tapping against the marble floor, his broad frame filling the doorway.
Happen carried Sebastian's sword belt, the steel, the silver, the various knives and tools that made up a witcher's arsenal. He held it out with both hands, a gesture of respect.
Sebastian took the belt and buckled it on, he checked the swords, sliding each one partially out of its scabbard to inspect the edges. Satisfied, he let them slide home.
Dijkstra watched the process with interest, his eyes missed nothing.
"Remember what I told you, witcher," Dijkstra said. "You should come back to my office once you are done with whatever it is you are doing right now."
Sebastian met his eyes. The spymaster's gaze was steady.
"I'll think about it," Sebastian said.
Dijkstra smiled. "Good, and you don't need to pay me anything, you are always welcome here."
He turned and walked away, Happen following at his heels. The door closed behind them, leaving Sebastian alone in the changing room.
Lambert entered a moment later, already dressed, his gear secured. He had a lazy satisfaction about him, the look of a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself here.
"You talked to him?" Lambert asked.
Sebastian nodded. "I did." He paused. "And that was Dijkstra, by the way, known here in Novigrad as Sigi Reuven, owner of this establishment, the one that Geralt mentioned in one of his stories back at the keep." He looked at Lambert. "The Redanian spy? Ring a bell?"
Lambert's brow furrowed. He scratched his jaw, thinking.
"Geralt mentioned that?" Lambert said slowly. "I can't remember..." He shook his head. "But I know the name Sigi, I even told you this place is owned by another crime boss.. so Sigi is a Redanian spy, then? This city keeps surprising me."
Sebastian's expression remained neutral. Inside, however, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
'Honestly,' Sebastian thought, 'I don't know if Geralt ever mentioned it. I just made that up.'
He kept his face carefully blank and pushed through the door.
"Let's go now," Sebastian said, stepping into the corridor. "You lead, you know where this late-night underworld auction is."
Lambert fell into step beside him. His smirk was back in place.
"Sure," Lambert said. "Let's go."
They walked through the quiet streets of Gildorf, their boots echoing off the cobblestones. The night had deepened, the stars overhead scattered across the sky. The city was quieter now, even the Temple Guard had retreated to their posts, their torches dimmed to embers.
Lambert led them through a maze of alleys and side streets, his pace quick and certain, he knew exactly where he was going.
They descended into a district that seemed to exist in the shadows of the more affluent neighborhoods. The buildings here were older, the streets were narrower, the alleys tighter. The people who moved through them, and there were people, even at this hour kept their heads down and their hands close to their weapons.
"Alot of people around, is this the right place?" Sebastian asked.
Lambert glanced back. "There's a place called The Gilded Cage. It's a tavern, technically, but the owner runs an auction house in the cellar. Unlicensed, unregulated, a place where people who don't want to be seen can buy things that don't officially exist."
Sebastian's eyebrows rose. "And Velm is selling his paintings there to Whoreson?"
"That's what we know." Lambert turned down a narrow alley, his boots splashing through a puddle of something that was probably not water. "The paintings are supposed to be valuable and Whoreson wants them to increase their value through this auction and profit off of them. Velm and Viktor are stupid so they want the coin, and I want my coin."
They emerged into a small square, at its center stood a building that was slightly more respectable than its neighbors, three stories, with a sign that depicted a golden birdcage with the door hanging open.
The Gilded Cage.
Lambert pushed open the door.
The interior was warm and lit, and surprisingly refined. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and the tables were draped in linen. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a few patrons sat scattered around, their conversations low and private.
Lambert approached the bar. The bartender looked up, his eyes flicking to the witcher's medallion. His expression did not change, but Sebastian noticed the way his hand moved closer to something beneath the counter.
"We're here for the auction," Lambert said. His voice was casual, unhurried. "Whoreson sent us."
The bartender studied them for a long moment, then he nodded, just slightly.
"Oh... two witchers... now I remember. Boss mentioned that you two would come, in that case downstairs," he said. "Through the door behind the stairs, follow the corridor to the end."
Lambert nodded. He turned and walked toward the back of the room and Sebastian followed.
/-\
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