The castle guards at the outer gatehouse had lowered their weapons the moment they recognized me, but their faces remained pale and uncertain as I strode through the torchlit entrance. I couldn't blame them. I was covered head to toe in wolf blood, ash, and the residual stink of burned Leshen bark.
My white hair was matted with gore, my armor scored with claw marks, and my golden eyes probably glowed with that predatory intensity that made normal humans instinctively step back.
I didn't slow my pace as I crossed the inner courtyard. My enhanced hearing picked up the nervous whispers of servants peering from windows, the hurried footsteps of guards repositioning themselves along the ramparts, and deeper within the castle's stone halls, the steady rhythm of a single heartbeat that belonged to Baron Hector.
He was in his study. Alone.
Perfect.
I made my way through the castle's corridors, my boots leaving faint bloody prints on the polished stone floors. A chambermaid gasped and pressed herself against the wall as I passed, her eyes wide with fear. I offered her a curt nod but didn't stop. I had business to attend to, and the clock was ticking.
The study door was heavy oak, reinforced with iron bands. I knocked twice, firm and deliberate.
"Enter," came Hector's voice from within, calm and measured.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The study was spacious and well-appointed, lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, maps of the surrounding territories, and various administrative documents. A large desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with parchment, inkwells, and wax seals. Behind it sat Baron Hector, his posture straight and composed, his hands folded neatly atop the desk.
His eyes widened fractionally when he saw me, taking in the blood-soaked state of my armor and the grim set of my expression. But to his credit, his face remained stoic, betraying nothing beyond that initial flicker of surprise.
His heartbeat, however, told a different story. It had spiked the moment I entered, accelerating from its previous steady rhythm to something faster, more anxious. He was worried. Not for himself, I realized, but for someone else.
"Witcher Cain," Hector said, his voice carefully neutral. "What happened to you? I heard the noise from the vineyard earlier tonight. Is everything all right?" He paused, and his next words came with genuine urgency. "Are Callum and Calla okay? Is their mother safe?"
I stopped just inside the doorway, studying him carefully. That was... unexpected. Normally, someone in his position wouldn't care about his bastard children and their mother. Bastards were inconveniences at best, political liabilities at worst. Yet here was Baron Hector, asking about them before anything else, his heartbeat hammering with genuine concern.
Why? I wondered. Why does he care so much about them?
"Baron, the three of them are fine." I said, keeping my tone even.
The effect was immediate. Hector's shoulders relaxed, the tension bleeding out of his frame like water from a cracked dam. His heartbeat slowed, returning to something closer to its normal rhythm, though it remained slightly elevated. Even his stoic expression softened, just a fraction, before he reasserted control.
"I see," Hector said quietly. "Thank you, Witcher. That is... a relief."
He gestured toward a side table where a crystal decanter of dark red wine sat alongside several goblets. "Would you care for a drink? You look like you've had a long night."
I nodded, crossing the room to stand before his desk. "I appreciate it."
Hector rose from his chair, moving gracefully as he poured two generous portions of wine, the liquid catching the candlelight as it filled the goblets. He handed one to me, and I accepted it with a nod of thanks.
The wine was excellent, rich and full-bodied with hints of dark fruit and oak. I took a slow sip, letting it wash away some of the metallic taste of blood and ash that clung to the back of my throat.
"Now then," Hector said, settling back into his chair and regarding me with sharp, intelligent eyes. "Do you know what the issue is that was plaguing my village?"
I set the goblet down on the edge of his desk and met his gaze directly. "Yes. It was an Ancient Leshen."
Hector's eyes widened, genuine shock breaking through his carefully maintained composure. "A Leshen? And an ancient one, no less?" He leaned forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. "But how? Who would conjure such a creature in my village, against my home?"
"That's why I'm here," I said. I reached into my pouch and pulled out the hex bag we'd found behind his wardrobe, placing it on the desk between us. The dried herbs, bone fragments, and twisted twine looked innocuous in the candlelight, but I could still feel the faint residual malice clinging to it.
"We killed the Leshen's physical body," I continued, "but unless we can kill the person who conjured it, that thing will come back. Eventually, it will try to free itself from its master's control. When that happens, it will slaughter everyone in Hillstead."
Hector stared at the hex bag, his expression darkening. "What is that?"
"This was found in your room, hidden behind your wardrobe," I said. "You were one of its targets. Or more accurately, you were being used as a meat shield for any magical backlash the creature was giving off. This hex bag was designed to weaken you, make you unstable, drain your vitality over time."
I paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "And that's not all. Your children and brother had markings behind their beds. The same markings that were on the Leshen's totem."
Hector's face went pale. "My children? And me?" His voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the fury building beneath it. "But who? Who would do this?"
I held up a hand. "That's not all, Baron. Under your vineyard, there was something called a Chaos Nexus. We Witchers call them Places of Power. They're locations where primordial Chaos magic focuses and concentrates. They're very rare, but they can be extremely volatile."
Hector's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"Most people haven't," I said. "But I'd wager that Chaos Nexus is the reason your village's wine became so uniquely beloved. The ambient magical energy would have seeped into the soil, into the vines, giving the grapes and the wine they produced a quality that couldn't be replicated anywhere else."
Understanding dawned in Hector's eyes. "That's why our wine was so sought after..."
"Exactly," I confirmed. "But the Leshen was feeding on that nexus. If it had completely absorbed all that primordial Chaos, it would have broken free from its master's control and killed everyone in the village. Hillstead would have become a ghost town, nothing but corpses and ash."
Hector nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "But you killed it, correct?"
"I did," I said. "But the master is still alive. And we managed to create a locator spell to find the one who conjured it." I leaned forward, resting my hands on the desk. "Tomorrow at dawn, we're going to announce it to the people of the village at first light."
Hector's eyebrows rose. "Why the whole village?"
"To give the people peace of mind," I said simply. "And to let them know that no matter who it is, you will punish them. Noble or highborn, it doesn't matter. Justice will be served."
Hector studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You still think it was someone in my castle, don't you?"
I shrugged. "I can't say for sure. But I came here to warn you and to get information on every single person that went missing over the years. Do you have it?"
"Aye," Hector said. He turned to a cabinet behind his desk, unlocking it with a small brass key and retrieving a stack of parchment bound with leather cord. He placed it on the desk in front of me. "I make it a known fact to know about every resident who lives in my village. Names, occupations, families, debts, skills of note. It's all there."
I picked up the stack and began reading through it. The records were surprisingly detailed. Each entry included the person's name, the last day they were seen, their occupation, their relatives, their age, any debts they owed, and any notable skills or talents they possessed.
Twelve names stood out immediately. All of them were elves or half-elves. Some had worked in the castle as chambermaids, cooks, or groundskeepers. Others had been outspoken about the Baron's family or had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A few were guards who had served loyally for years before vanishing without a trace.
And then I saw it. The pattern. The connection. The truth hidden in plain sight.
I set the papers down and looked up at Hector. "Thank you, Baron. You just confirmed what I believed to be true."
Hector leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Tell me, Cain. Who did this?"
I could tell him everything right now. Lay it all out, explain the connections, reveal the culprits. But that would ruin the tension, the buildup, the moment of revelation that would come tomorrow. And more than that, I needed the crowd's reaction. I needed their anger, their outrage, their demand for justice. That was the only way to ensure the guilty parties couldn't wriggle free through political maneuvering or noble privilege.
It wasn't even about being a Sequence 8 Provoker, though that certainly helped. I just wanted to see those people burn. Well, in this case...
I stopped that thought process before it could fully form.
"You'll find out tomorrow with everyone else," I said. "Just make sure you have your whole family there, and everyone in the castle. Every single person."
Hector's expression darkened, but he nodded. "Very well. Is there anything else you need?"
"Yes," I said. "I need two very long pieces of rope. Do you have any?"
Hector just looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Ask the head butler. He'll show you where they are."
"Thank you," I said. I turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back over my shoulder. "Baron, I have one more question. You don't need to answer it right now, but you will need to answer it tomorrow."
"What is it?" Hector asked, his voice wary.
"Do you love and care about Calla and Callum and their mother?"
The Baron's eyes went dark, his expression shuttering completely. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
I took that as my cue to leave.
After retrieving the ropes from the head butler, a nervous, balding man who kept wringing his hands and asking if everything was all right, I made my way back to the guest quarters Gregor had assigned us. Callum was already asleep, sprawled across his bed with one arm hanging off the side, snoring softly. Calla and Callidea had retired to their own rooms.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the two coils of rope I'd set on the floor. My mind was already running through the plan for tomorrow, visualizing every step, every word, every reaction.
Things are about to get messy, and I couldn't wait.
Being messy was sometimes necessary. Especially when dealing with people who thought they were untouchable.
I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and let sleep take me.
The next morning arrived with the pale gray light of pre-dawn. I woke before the sun, my internal clock honed by years of Witcher training. Callum was still asleep, but I could hear movement elsewhere in the castle as servants began their morning routines.
I dressed quickly, and made my way down to the courtyard. Gregor was already there, along with a dozen of his most trusted men, all armed and armored as I'd requested. He gave me a curt nod as I approached.
"Everything's ready, Witcher," Gregor said. "Word's been spreading through the village since last night. Half the town will be there by first light."
"Good," I said. "Make sure your men are positioned around the perimeter. When this goes down, things might get ugly."
Gregor's expression was grim. "Understood."
I loaded the four barrels of vodka onto a cart, along with the two coils of rope, and began making my way toward the village center. The giant tree on the hill overlooking Hillstead was visible even from the castle, its massive branches silhouetted against the lightening sky.
By the time I arrived, a crowd had already begun to gather. Sleepy peasants, rubbing their eyes and pulling their cloaks tighter against the morning chill, clustered in small groups at the base of the hill. Merchants, farmers, laborers, mothers with children clinging to their skirts, all of them drawn by curiosity and the promise of answers.
Then came the sound of hooves and wheels on cobblestone. Baron Hector's family arrived in a procession of horses and carriages, flanked by knights and guards bearing the Baron's crest. Hector himself rode at the front, his expression stern and unreadable. Behind him came his wife, his brother. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, rode in the carriage, both looking nervous and confused.
Callum, Calla, and Callidea stood near the base of the hill, watching the proceedings with guarded expressions. I caught Callum's eye and whistled sharply, gesturing for him to come help me.
He jogged over, his expression curious. "What's all this, Cain?"
"Help me get these barrels to the bottom of the hill," I said, handing him one end of the cart.
Together, we hauled the barrels into position, setting them in a neat row at the base of the hill. Then
I grabbed the two coils of rope and began climbing toward the tree.
The crowd watched in growing confusion as I tied the ropes to one of the tree's massive lower branches, fashioning two nooses with practiced efficiency. The sight of the nooses sent a ripple of unease through the gathered villagers, their murmurs growing louder.
Calla approached, her expression sharp and demanding. Baron Hector was right behind her, his face dark with barely contained anger.
"Cain," Calla said, her voice tight. "What is the meaning of this?"
I jumped down from the tree and walked back to the barrels. Without a word, I drove my fist through the top of the first barrel, the wood splintering under the impact. The sharp, pungent smell of vodka filled the air, making several people in the crowd cough and step back.
I looked at Calla and Callidea. "Is the crystal glowing?"
Callidea reached into her pouch and pulled out the focus crystal we'd attuned to the master's soul-signature. She held it up, and I saw a faint green light pulsing within its depths.
"Faintly," Callidea confirmed. "But yes, it's glowing."
I turned to Callum, meeting his eyes. "Do you trust me?"
Callum didn't even hesitate. "Always."
I nodded, reaching up to gather my white hair. I pulled it back, tying it into a tight bun at the back of my head, leaving a few loose strands to frame my face. The gesture was deliberate, theatrical, a signal that the performance was about to begin.
It's showtime.
I stepped up onto one of the barrels, the wood creaking slightly under my weight. The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning toward me. I let the moment stretch, building the tension, before I spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Hillstead!" My voice rang out across the hillside, clear and commanding. "I have asked you here to address a civil unrest that has been plaguing your village for nearly a decade!"
I paused, letting my gaze sweep across the crowd, making eye contact with as many people as I could. I could feel the weight of their attention, the curiosity and fear and hope all mingling together.
"I want to speak about twelve people," I continued. "Twelve names that have been whispered in your homes, mourned in your hearts, and forgotten by those who should have protected them."
I began listing the names, one by one, my voice steady and deliberate.
"Aelwen, a chambermaid who tended the castle's guest quarters. Filaen, a groundskeeper who maintained the Baron's gardens. Ithil, a cook who prepared meals for the household. Maeglin, a guard who served loyally for fifteen years. Celeborn, a wine worker who knew the vineyard better than anyone. Nimrodel, a half-elven woman who was outspoken about the Baron's policies. Galadhon, a stablehand who cared for the horses. Elenwe, a seamstress who made clothes for the noble family. Thranduil, a blacksmith's apprentice. Arwen, a young girl who worked as a scullery maid. Legolas, a messenger who carried letters between the castle and the village. And Elrohir, a guard captain who questioned certain orders from the baroness."
The crowd was silent now, hanging on every word. I could see recognition in their faces, grief and anger stirring beneath the surface.
"All of them," I said, "either elves or half-elves. All of them worked in the castle, or tended its grounds, or were outspoken about the Baron's family. And all of them went missing over the years, never to be found again."
A woman near the front of the crowd stepped forward, her face streaked with tears. "Then who was it that stole my daughter away from me?" she cried. "She was just a chambermaid! She never hurt anyone!"
I looked at her, my expression softening slightly. "I know. And I'm going to tell you exactly what happened to her, and to all the others."
I gestured to Callum, who began opening the other barrels. The smell of vodka intensified, and I grabbed a ladle and a stack of wooden cups from the cart.
"But first," I said, "drink, my people. This story is going to get bigger, and you'll want something to calm your minds and warm your bellies."
I began ladling vodka into cups, handing them out to the crowd. Callidea stepped forward to help. Callum poured with practiced ease, and one by one, the villagers accepted the drinks. The focus crystal in Callidea's hand remained faintly glowing, but it didn't brighten as the ordinary villagers took their cups.
A man near the back of the crowd called out, "Why are there two nooses on the tree? Does that mean two people summoned this Leshen?"
I nodded. "Yes. Two people worked together to bind and control the creature."
I began explaining the details, weaving the story like a master storyteller. I described the Leshen, its nature as a primordial forest spirit, its ability to command wolves and crows, its connection to the land itself. I explained the totem we'd found, the hex bag hidden in the Baron's room, and the seals we'd discovered in the rooms of his children and brother.
"But here's the crazy part," I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone that made everyone lean in closer. "Those markings weren't targets. They were protections. They were markers to tell the Leshen not to take them."
I let that sink in for a moment, watching the confusion and dawning realization spread across the crowd's faces.
"Think about it," I continued. "If three nobles were protected, but one was targeted, and there are five people in the Baron's family, what does that tell you?"
Calla's eyes widened, her sharp mind putting the pieces together instantly. I saw her mouth form a silent "Oh" as the truth hit her.
I turned toward Baron Hector, who stood near the front of the crowd, his expression dark and unreadable. "Baron Hector, please step forward."
Hector moved through the crowd, his knights parting to let him pass. He stopped a few paces from me, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
"Do you trust your wife and children?" I asked.
"Yes," Hector said, his voice firm. "Now stop playing these games and tell me what is going on."
I reached down and picked up one of the large cups of vodka, offering it to him. "You're going to want this drink, Baron."
Hector shook his head. "No. I don't."
"Fine," I said. "But hold it anyway. It's a big cup, and you'll change your mind in a second."
Hector took the cup, his expression skeptical but wary.
I turned to Callidea. "Lady Callidea, can you explain to the crowd what Witcher Signs are, and specifically what the Axii Sign does?"
Callidea stepped forward, her voice clear and authoritative. "Witcher Signs are a form of simplified magic that Witchers use in combat and other situations. They're based on ancient elven glyphs and require minimal incantation. There are five primary Signs: Aard, which creates a telekinetic blast; Igni, which produces fire; Yrden, which creates a magical trap; Quen, which forms a protective shield; and Axii, which affects the mind."
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. "Axii is a Sign of mental manipulation. It can calm aggressive creatures, confuse enemies, or compel weak-minded individuals to answer questions truthfully. However, it cannot force someone to lie, nor can it create false memories or fabricate information. It simply compels the target to speak the truth as they know it."
"Good," I said. I looked back at the crowd. "So if I use Axii on someone and ask them to reveal their secrets, they will tell the truth. They won't be able to lie, won't be able to hide anything. The truth will come out, whether they want it to or not."
I turned toward Hector's wife Lady Elane and brother Lord Harry, who stood near the Baron's carriage. Both of them looked nervous now, their eyes darting between me and the crowd.
I raised my left hand, channeling the Axii Sign. The air around my fingers shimmered with a faint, hypnotic glow.
"Reveal your secrets," I commanded, my voice resonating with magical compulsion.
The effect was immediate. Hector's brother stiffened, his eyes going glassy and unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was flat and monotone, devoid of emotion.
"I have been sleeping with my brother's wife since we were teenagers," he said. The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath that rippled through the hillside. "I wanted to be the Baron, but since Hector was recognized by the King and Queen of Cintra all those years ago, and Father gave him the barony, I've been slowly stealing from him. His money, his wife, I even helped steal his children from him."
The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs, but I held up a hand for silence. The brother wasn't finished.
"I should have been the true Baron," he continued, his voice still flat and emotionless. "Not him. Not that half-elf bastard."
Then Hector's wife began to speak, her voice equally monotone and devoid of inflection.
"I've never loved that man," she said, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "I hate the elves. Ever since my first love, an elven prince, took my maidenhood and left me with a broken heart, I've despised them all."
The crowd was silent now, hanging on every horrifying word.
"I married Hector for the title," she continued. "I was sleeping with his brother for years before we got together, and when our marriage was arranged, I made sure to get pregnant by his brother instead of bearing children with even an ounce of knife-eared blood."
Hector's face had gone pale, his knuckles white as he gripped the cup of vodka I'd given him. I saw him take a large gulp, draining half the cup in one go.
The wife continued, her confession spilling out in that same terrible, monotone voice. "But Hector was a great leader and a father, and that elven whore who has been watching them since they were boys got pregnant with his true blood heirs. I knew only a few people in the village knew my secret, so I used a book of elven rituals my old lover left behind to summon and bind a Leshen to me."
The crowd's shock was palpable now, a living thing that pressed against my senses.
"Over the years," she said, "I used the Leshen to get rid of the people in the castle who knew. The chambermaids, the guards, the cooks, the wine workers. Slowly, with the help of the Baron's brother, we made it look like the Baron was driving the land into ruin. Then we would seize the village from him."
She paused, and when she spoke again, there was a hint of venom in her monotone voice. "But then his bastard daughter displayed magic, while a Witcher and sorceress were in the area. So I had to hide my Leshen and told the Baron to get rid of both of them, or I would leave with the children. And he took the bait."
Her eyes, still glassy and unfocused, seemed to stare through the crowd. "Now both of his children are unable to continue the bloodline. I would have rather seen them dead, but it's the next best thing."
The crowd was silent, stunned into horrified disbelief. Even Hector looked like he'd been struck by lightning, his face ashen, his hands trembling.
The wife continued. "I killed off anyone else who knew over the years. And I was going to slowly drain the Baron until he could be smothered in his sleep."
The influence of the Axii Sign began to fade, and both the brother and the wife blinked, their eyes clearing. Confusion and then dawning horror spread across their faces as they realized what they'd just confessed.
"You elven bast...." Elane began, her voice rising in fury.
She didn't get to finish.
Callidea raised her hand, her eyes glowing with brilliant green light. Thick vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the wife's mouth and dragging her down to her knees. The vines tightened, muffling her screams, and pulled her face-first into the dirt.
"You whore," Callidea said, her voice cold and filled with barely contained rage. "You're the reason I nearly lost both of my children. The reason my son is suffering so much. Because one elf broke your heart."
She raised the focus crystal, holding it up so the entire crowd could see. The crystal blazed with brilliant emerald-green light, so bright it was almost blinding. And on Elane's hand, the markings of the Leshen binding glowed with the same sickly green luminescence.
I jumped onto one of the barrels, raising my voice to carry across the hillside. "Ladies and gentlemen of Hillstead, I have only one question for you!"
The crowd turned toward me, their faces a mixture of shock, anger, and grief.
"Should we hang them, or burn them?"
The crowd erupted. Some shouted for hanging, others for burning, their voices rising in a cacophony of rage and demand for justice. The anger I'd been carefully stoking, the tension I'd been building, finally ignited into a roaring inferno of righteous fury.
I let it build for a moment, then raised my hand for silence. The crowd quieted, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.
"The Baroness must die," I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Because if she is left alive, the Leshen will come back and kill everyone here. Every man, woman, and child in Hillstead will be slaughtered."
I turned toward Hector. "And the Baron's brother must die for betraying his kin, for stealing from his own blood, for conspiring to destroy this village."
I looked at Hector, meeting his eyes. "This is your village, Baron. So you decide their punishment. But the Baroness must die for peace to return. That is not negotiable."
I could see the spark of anger igniting in the crowd, the way their faces twisted with fury and grief. The Provoker potion in me recognized it, fed on it, used it to fuel the acting method. But I wasn't done yet.
I glanced toward the two teenagers standing near the carriage. The boy looked terrified, his face pale and his hands shaking. The girl, however, was more composed. She watched the proceedings with calculating eyes, her expression thoughtful rather than frightened. When she caught me looking at her, she held my gaze for a long moment, and I saw something sharp and intelligent in her eyes.
Interesting, possibly something to worry about but interesting non-the less.
Hector stood in silence for a long moment, staring at his wife and brother. Then he took another long drink from the cup of vodka, draining it completely. He set the cup down and drew his sword, the steel ringing as it left the scabbard.
"People of Hillstead," Hector said, his voice carrying across the hillside. "I hear your anger. And since the sentence must be carried out, I will be the one to do it. We are better than them, and we will not stoop to their level."
He looked at his now niece and nephew, his expression softening slightly. "Say your goodbyes children. And know this Helena, Huether, I am sorry ."
Harry began to scream, his voice rising in panic. "You can't do this! I am your brother! I should be the true Baron, not you, you elf blood bastard! I should have drowned you when Father brought you home!"
Hector's expression hardened. He raised his sword, and in two swift, decisive motions, he brought the blade down.
The first strike severed his brother's head cleanly from his shoulders. The second did the same to his wife.
The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices rising in a roar of approval and vindication. Hector stood over the bodies, his sword dripping with blood, his expression grim but resolute.
He turned to Captain Gregor. "Take the children to their rooms and make sure they stay there. Post guards at their doors."
As the guards moved to escort the teenagers away, the girl paused and looked back at me. Her eyes met mine, and she spoke just loud enough for me to hear over the crowd's noise.
"Come see me, Witcher," Helena said, her voice calm and measured. "I have a deal for you."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with a dozen questions and no answers.
I shook my head and turned back to the crowd. "Come, drink and be merry! Cry your tears now that justice has been served! And with the beast gone, the vineyard will recover! Tonight, we celebrate!"
The crowd roared its approval, and the tension that had been building finally broke like a dam. People began to laugh and cry and embrace each other, the weight of nearly a decade of fear and uncertainty finally lifting from their shoulders.
Baron Hector approached me, his expression weary but grateful. "Witcher Cain, I have an answer for your question. The one you asked me last night."
I looked at him, waiting.
"Yes," Hector said quietly. "I have always loved my children, Calla and Callum. If I could, I would have married their mother. But I married my former wife out of duty."
I nodded slowly. "Then take this drink," I said, handing him a fresh cup of vodka, "and go make things right. Because you may never see Callum again, or he will outlive you along with his mother and sister."
Hector took the cup, his expression somber. He nodded once, then turned and walked toward where Callum, Calla, and Callidea stood watching the proceedings.
As he approached, a translucent blue notification shimmered into existence before my eyes.
System Notification: Quest Complete
Epic Rank Quest: Mysteries of Hillstead
Rewards Received: +3.5 Attribute Points. 1 Epic Equipment Chest. Reputation in Hillstead: Vastly Increased.
Current standing in Hillstead: Highly Respected.
I dismissed the window with a thought, watching as Hector stopped in front of Callum, Calla, and Callidea.
"Can you ever forgive this fool of a man for not being a better father?" Hector asked, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I am too late to be much of a father to you, but I would like to make up for it."
Callum's expression was cold, his arms crossed over his chest. Calla looked equally guarded, her sharp eyes studying Hector with clinical detachment. Callidea said nothing, her face unreadable.
Hector dropped to one knee, reaching out to take Callidea's hand. She allowed it, though her expression remained neutral.
"Callidea," Hector said, his voice soft. "I know you will outlive me, and you have known me since I was merely a babe. You helped me grow into the man I am today. If you let me, I would ask for your hand and take you where you rightfully belong. As my Baroness. And I will legitimize Callum and Calla now, even if I have no grandchildren. They are my children, and I will not let anyone ever call them less."
Callidea smiled, a small, genuine expression that softened her features. "I will become your wife and take the title, little Hector. But my love will be earned. As for their love, you will have to do the same."
Hector blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I haven't been called that since I was a child. But I will gladly earn of all of your love."
Calla spoke next, her tone more pragmatic. "I don't really care for a father-daughter bond, but I can always use a place to get away to and research funding."
"Even if it is a drop in the bucket, you can have any room in the castle and all I ask is that you think of the people when wanting funding." Hector said.
Callum's expression remained cold. "You can save it, Baron. I'll take my coin and go."
I approached then, a cup of vodka in my hand. "No need for that, brother. We're going to celebrate, and rest. Tell you what, I'll cook for the whole village. I just need ingredients."
Callum looked at me, then took the cup and drank deeply. "You're lucky I'm hungry."
"I know,"
Calla looked at me. "Do you have anything besides vodka?"
"Nope," I said. "Now drink."
Callidea took the cup I offered her and drained it in a couple of gulps, which surprised even me. "Damn, I'll get more."
"Good," Callidea said, her voice dry. "Because gods, I need a drink." She looked at Hector. "And before we even lay in a bed, you are getting rid of the old one."
"Yes, ma'am," Hector said quickly.
Callum turned to Hector. "If you want to make good on your words, Cain and I need new Witcher silver swords. Calla burned and destroyed our old ones."
I just realized he was right. And then another thought hit me. Wait, my knife is gone too?!
Fuck, I thought. I really liked that knife. And it had a great feature too. It was the first thing the system ever gave me, I actually formed a sort of bond with it.
"Come, brother," Callum said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You cook, and I eat."
"Yeah, brother," I said. "Let's."
As we walked toward the village center, where the celebration was already beginning, I found myself thinking about the strange turn of events. Hector was going to marry Callidea. Callum and Calla were going to be legitimized. And despite everything, despite the betrayal and the pain and the years of separation, there was a chance for this fractured family to heal.
I guess this is nice, I thought, considering we'll be going our separate ways in a day or two.