The landscape had slowly transformed as they left Velen behind, the oppressive grey skies giving way to patches of blue, the fetid swamps replaced by golden fields of wheat and barley, the twisted, ancient trees of the cursed forests giving way to orchards and carefully tended woodlands. It was as if the very land itself was exhaling, Sebastian rode at the head of their small company, his yellow eyes fixed on the horizon. The head of the leshen still dangled from his saddle, its eyes staring vacantly at the passing world, a trophy of the darkness they had left behind. His mare moved with a steady, ground-eating gait, her ears pricked forward as if she too sensed that they were approaching something significant.
Dandelion had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past hour, his usual chatter replaced by a contemplative silence. But as the walls of Vizima began to rise on the horizon, his spirits seemed to lift.
"There it is!" Dandelion said, his voice with excitement. "Vizima. The heart and capital of Temeria. The seat of King Foltest's power, the jewel of the Pontar Valley." He paused, his voice dropping. "Well, perhaps not a jewel. Perhaps more of a... well-polished stone. But a stone with character, nonetheless."
Zoltan snorted, his thick fingers stroking his beard. "Aye, a stone with character. That's one way to describe a city that's been besieged more times than I've had hot meals... also that's a lot of praise."
Sebastian said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the walls that loomed before them, massive structures of grey stone, their battlements bristling with the banners of Temeria. The blue and gold of the royal house fluttered in the breeze.
The gates of Vizima were open, but the guards at the entrance were watchful, their eyes scanning the approaching travelers with the suspicion, they were men who had learned to trust no one. They wore the blue and gold of the Temerian army, their halberds raised high.
As Sebastian and his companions approached, one of the guards stepped forward, his hand raised. "Halt! State your business in Vizima."
Sebastian reined in his mare, his yellow eyes meeting the guard's gaze. "We're travelers," he said, his voice calm. "We've come to see Triss Merigold. She's expecting us."
The guard's eyes flickered to the medallion on Sebastian's chest, then to the swords on his back, then to the leshen's head that dangled from his saddle.
"A witcher," the guard said slowly. "And you know Lady Merigold?"
Sebastian nodded. "She's a friend. We have business to discuss."
The guard studied him for a long moment, his eyes searching Sebastian's face for any sign of deception. Then he stepped back, gesturing for them to pass.
"Go on, then. But keep your weapons sheathed while you're in the city. The city guards has little patience for troublemakers."
Sebastian inclined his head. "Understood."
They rode through the gates, their horses' hooves echoing against the stones. The moment they passed beneath the arch, Vizima opened before them.
Sebastian had heard stories of Vizima, tales of its grandeur, its wealth, its bustling streets and towering building. But hearing about a place and seeing it were two very different things. The city sprawled before him, winding streets and crowded squares, its buildings rising three and four stories high, their facades painted in shades of cream and ochre and pale blue. The sounds of commerce and daily life, merchants hawking their wares, children laughing and shouting, the rumble of carts over cobblestones, the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
And the people. They were everywhere, nobles in fine silks, merchants in practical wool, laborers in rough-spun linen, beggars in tattered rags.
Dandelion rode up beside Sebastian, his voice teasing. "I see your reaction... Were you expecting another Velen? A few hovels and a mud pit?"
Sebastian allowed himself a small smile. "I guess I was."
Zoltan laughed. "Aye, lad. Vizima may be a shithole in its own way, but it's a shithole with style. You've got to appreciate that."
Sebastian looked around, his yellow eyes taking in the details that others might have missed. The cobblestones beneath his mare's hooves were worn smooth by centuries of use. The smells were overwhelming him, bread and smoke and sweat and flowers and the faint, ever-present scent of the river that wound through the city's heart.
It was chaos, but it was the chaotic beauty of life.
"This is great and all," Sebastian said, his voice carrying a note of practicality, "I would love to see the city and discover more of it, but we need to head to the Royal Palace. To meet Triss."
Zoltan's eyebrows rose. "You say it casually, as if they'll just let us walk in. The Royal Palace is not a tavern, lad. It's the seat of the king's power. They don't exactly roll out the welcome mat for witchers, and don't forget about the whole assassination attempts that we heard about... I doubt they will let us in.."
Sebastian's expression was unreadable. "Triss will be there for us. I think. Hopefully, she's here and not elsewhere.."
Dandelion's face paled. "Oh, we're getting detained, aren't we? I can feel it. They're going to throw us in a dungeon and forget about us. I'll be singing to the rats for the rest of my life.."
Sebastian shot him a look. "Don't think negatively, Dandelion. It was your idea to come with me."
Dandelion's voice rose in protest. "And we've had plenty of adventure already! I don't want to be in a dungeon now. I want a warm bath, some decent drinks, and to hit a tavern. Maybe a decent brothel." He paused, a wistful look crossing his face. "I know this city pretty well, you know. I've had some memorable times here."
Sebastian's voice was flat. "Not right now, Dandelion."
Zoltan laughed again, "Aye, save your enthusiasm for later. We've got business to attend to."
.
.
.
The Royal Palace of Vizima rose before them, its towers piercing the sky, the gates were massive, iron-banded oak, reinforced with steel, flanked by guards in the blue and gold of the Temerian royal house. They stood at attention, their halberds gleaming, their eyes sharp and watchful.
Sebastian reined in his mare, his yellow eyes fixed on the gates. Behind him, Dandelion and Zoltan did the same.
The guards reacted immediately.
Archers appeared on the battlements above, their bows drawn, their arrows aimed directly at the three travelers. The guards at the gates raised their halberds, their faces hardening into looks of suspicion. A captain stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Halt!" the captain commanded, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "State your business here! No one of the common folk is permitted to approach the gates of the Royal Palace without prior authorization.."
Sebastian did not dismount. He met the captain's gaze, his voice calm and steady. "Do I look like one of the common folk to you?"
The captain's eyes flickered to the medallion on Sebastian's chest, then to the swords on his back, then to the leshen's head that still dangled from his saddle. "Aye, we understand you are a Witcher," the captain said. "But that does not grant you passage into the Royal Palace. Move along."
Dandelion spurred his horse forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. His voice was smooth and charming. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Dandelion said, "I understand your caution. Truly, I do. A witcher and his companions approaching the Royal Palace.. it would raise eyebrows even in the most trusting of courts. But I assure you, we are not here to cause trouble. We are here to see Lady Triss Merigold. She is expecting us. We have a matter of great importance to discuss with her, a matter that concerns the safety of the realm itself."
The captain's eyes narrowed. "The King's court mage has business with you? Do you take us for fools? Lady Merigold does not make a habit of meeting with wandering witchers and their ragtag companions."
Another soldier leaned toward the captain, his voice low. "Captain, that's Master Dandelion. The bard. The one who travels with the White Wolf. I've seen him before, at court, during the celebrations."
The captain's expression did not change. "I don't care who he is. We have strict orders, have you forgotten?! No one approaches the palace without prior authorization. And no exceptions."
Sebastian's voice cut through the tension, calmly. "You need to understand something. Just pass a message to her. Tell her that Sebastian of Kaer Morhen is here to see her. If we are lying, I will let you take my sword, it is worth a lot."
The captain studied him for a long moment, his eyes searching Sebastian's face for any sign of deception. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well. I will go and find the court mage. But I swear to you, Witcher, if you are lying to me, losing your sword will be the least of your worries, you will be rotting in the dungeon. Do you understand me?"
Sebastian smiled, a smile that carried no warmth. "Of course."
/-\
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