The night had settled over Vizima, its streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns in the streets. The tavern had been pleasant and full of warmth and noise, the hours melting away beneath the laughter and drink. Sebastian had allowed himself to relax, the Mahakam spirit had flowed freely, Dandelion's songs had filled the place, and even Zoltan had cracked a smile more than once, his gruff exterior softened by the warmth of good company and better spirits.
Vernon Roche and his men had lingered until the late hours, but eventually, they had departed, their footsteps fading into the night. Triss had left not long after, her mind clearly already turning toward the mysteries of the mask that was now in her possession.
The morning sun of a new day rose over Vizima, the city was waking, its streets filling with the sounds of commerce and daily life, you could hear the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
Sebastian had spent the night in the tavern alongside Dandelion and Zoltan. The hours had melted away, they barely slept, while Seb simply meditated for a few hours. Dandelion had performed until his voice grew hoarse, Zoltan had consumed enough Mahakam spirit to fell a horse.
Now, the streets of Vizima stretched before them. the tavern had emptied, its patrons returning to their lives, and Sebastian had found himself walking through the morning streets, his companions at his side.
Dandelion fell into step beside him. "So, Sebastian, I have been meaning to ask you, and do not deflect this time, are you going to accept the King's job offer? The one that would make you a glorified guard dog for the throne of Temeria?"
Sebastian's expression was thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the street ahead. "Probably not. I really have no reason to. I do not care what happens to the North, our job is not to save the world, Dandelion. It is to do a contract, collect the coin, and move on to the next. Everything else is just noise."
"True, but... we are your friends, aren't we? We northerners? Do you not care what happens to us if the Empire marches north and sweeps everything before it?" Dandelion asked.
Sebastian laughed, "Are you afraid of Nilfgaard, or do you think I have some hidden loyalty to my homeland? I do not wish for Nilfgaard to conquer the North, if that is what you are implying, Dandelion. But I also do not see myself as the man who will stand in the Emperor's way. That is a task for kings and generals, not for witchers who have already seen too much of the world's cruelty."
Dandelion waved a hand dismissively, he was a man who saw stories everywhere, and this was another chance for him to witness another one. "Look, forget about the bloody politics for a second. Forget about the wars and the treaties and the endless scheming of kings and mages. Think of this as an opportunity! a chance to have some sort of power within the royal court. Everyone will know your name! Think of the ballads, Sebastian! Think of the fame! You could become a legend, a figure of song and story, a Witcher who stood beside kings and shaped the fate of nations!"
Sebastian's expression shifted, "That is precisely why we Witchers prefer not to meddle with royalty, Dandelion. Fame is not exactly good for us. It brings attention, and attention brings trouble. We like a low profile, do a contract, collect the money, and leave before anyone can form an opinion of us. I do not want to be some glorified Witcher bodyguard for some king who will probably forget my name the moment I am no longer useful to him."
Dandelion was convinced that he was right and everyone else was being stubbornly obtuse. "You have no creative imagination, my friend. You do not think ahead of you. You see only the immediate, the practical, the safe. But the world is larger than that, Seb. It is filled with possibilities that you cannot even begin to imagine. You could be more than just a Witcher. You could be a force for change, a shaper of destinies! a man whose name is spoken with reverence long after you have passed from this world."
Sebastian shook his head slowly. "I am not Geralt. I am sure even he regrets many things regarding his relationship with royalty. The games they play, the lies they tell, the way they use people and discard them when they are no longer useful. I have seen what that life does to a man, my father was a person who served the Emperor, and look what happened to him, died a world away from home.. I have no desire to walk that path."
Dandelion's voice softened. "Ciri was one of the consequences of Gerlat's relationship with royalty. Do you think he regrets that as well? Do you think he would trade away everything he has, everything he is, if it meant that she had never come into his life?"
Sebastian stopped walking.
The street was quiet around them, the morning bustle fading into the background. He stood still for a long moment, his yellow eyes fixed on the ground ahead, his mind turning over the weight of Dandelion's words.
Then he spoke, his voice low and measured. "This is totally different. You cannot compare the two things. Ciri is... Ciri is family. She is not a consequence. She is a gift, even if she came wrapped in complications."
Dandelion's voice was gentle but insistent. "It is not different, Seb. It is exactly the same. You cannot choose the path that leads to the people you love without also choosing the path that leads to the complications that come with them. That is what it means to care about someone. That is what it means to be human."
Sebastian turned to face him. "Why do you want me to accept Foltest's offer so badly? Even Triss was not this insistent. What is your angle, Dandelion?"
Dandelion's smile was wide, his eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm, he could not resist the pull of a good narrative. "For inspiration, my friend. For myself, and for you, of course. Think of the songs I could write! The ballads of the Witcher of Vizima, the man who stood beside a king, the man who faced down assassins and protected the throne from the shadows! It would be magnificent!"
Zoltan sighed, and that spoke of decades of experience with Dandelion's schemes and the endless trouble they always seemed to attract. "Here we go again. I knew it was only a matter of time before he tries to drag you into one of his grand plans."
Sebastian's expression shifted to disappointment, though he was still amused by Dandelion. "I should have known. You are not trying to help me.. You are trying to help yourself to a new story."
Dandelion's voice was innocent, though his eyes betrayed him. "What? Can a man not want to immortalize his friends in song? Is that such a terrible crime?"
The sound of footsteps echoed through the street.
Sebastian's hand moved instinctively toward his sword. Something was wrong, very wrong.
Five figures emerged from the surrounding alleys, their forms silhouetted against the bright morning light. They wore hoods that obscured their faces, their movements clearly coordinated, they were clearly men who had been trained to kill. They fanned out across the street, blocking the path ahead.
Sebastian raised his hand, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Back away. Now. Do not argue with me."
Zoltan's hand went to his axe, his fingers wrapping around the handle. "What is it, Seb? Who are these bastards?"
Sebastian's eyes swept over the figures, noticing their stances, their positioning. "They are not ordinary thugs.."
The figures drew their weapons, swords, daggers, a crossbow. One of them raised the crossbow, its bolt aimed directly at Sebastian's chest.
Dandelion's voice was high and tight, his earlier confidence evaporating in the face of real danger. "Seb..."
The crossbowman fired.
Sebastian moved before the bolt had left the weapon. His body twisted, the bolt passing within a hair's breadth of his shoulder, embedding itself in the wooden door of a nearby shop with a dull thud. He drew his steel sword.
"Hide!" Sebastian shouted. "Get to cover! Now!"
Dandelion and Zoltan scrambled backward, their boots pounding against the cobblestones. Dandelion dove behind a stack of barrels near a street vendor's stall, his face pale, his hands shaking. Zoltan took cover behind an overturned cart, his axe still in hand, his eyes fixed on the battle that was about to unfold.
The screams started almost immediately.
A woman emerged from a nearby doorway, her face twisted in terror, her voice filled with raw panic. "What is happening?! Who are they?! Someone help!"
A merchant dove for cover, his cart abandoned, his goods scattered across the street. "By the gods! Murder! Murder in the streets! Someone call the guards!"
A child began to cry, their mother clutching them tightly as she pressed herself against a wall, her body shielding her child from the violence that had erupted around them. "Stay quiet, stay quiet, please, just stay quiet..."
The chaos spread like wildfire, panic rippling through the streets. Doors slammed shut, windows were barred, and the sounds of fear; shouts of warning, the pounding of feet as people fled the scene.
"Okay, show me what you can do, cunts." Sebastian said as he pointed his steel sword at the five assassins in front of him.
/-\
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