Castoff: The Path (ch. 8) (Patreon)

Novigrad was under siege, but it wasn’t by Nilfgaard. It was being besieged by an army of refugees, Ciri saw as she and Guts approached the city in the early morning, almost as soon as the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon of the Great Sea. It wasn’t the first time she had visited the city, but it had radically changed from what she recalled in her memory. The shanty town outside of the city was greatly expanded, almost tripling in size in almost every direction, with only the western side free simply because people hadn’t figured out how to build on the water.

The word ramshackle came to mind when they reached the outermost edges of the shantytown. The buildings were made from twigs and mud, little more than huts. And even that couldn’t house everyone in the shantytown because Ciri saw men and women, entire families even, sleeping in the dirt roads that had become a terrible muck as so many people walked back and forth. Her nose burned from the stench, and she didn’t dare breathe through her mouth because she knew that she’d be able to taste the foul air on her tongue.

“Good thing we didn’t bring the children here,” Ciri decided, taking one look at the city and knew that the children wouldn’t have been able to make it. All around Ciri, she heard the sounds of survival -- from men fighting over scraps, to the sounds of rutting in tents as women whored themselves for a few coppers, and shouts as children picked pockets because their lives depended on it. It was something primal and fierce. A place where survival was determined by instinct and luck.

It made her heart ache just looking at it all. It was almost indescribable. She knew that the war was going to be devastating the moment that she heard about it after arriving. Her lessons in history hadn’t been wasted -- the most devastating wars were when both sides spent years preparing for them. This wasn’t the first Northern war where one side was caught off guard. This was a slugging match between the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire, and neither side would stop until the other was completely broken and dead.

It was going to be the last Northern war. Either the Northern Kingdoms would manage to break the Nilfgaardian grip or they would be ground into dust. There would be no in between. Worse, as great as the death toll would be for the battles, what surrounded her would be the true devastation of the war. The countless displaced families, left suffering because refugees were rarely welcomed anywhere, and the trauma of doing what needed to be done just to survive day to day.

Ciri didn’t think there was a greater blight on the face of the world than war. It was worse than any monster. And it was one that was celebrated until the cost of it became apparent.

“I doubt they’re going to let us through the gate,” Guts observed, and Ciri could hear it in his voice. He was utterly exhausted. Which he should be. He hadn’t slept in a week. It was honestly alarming how Guts was even functioning at the moment, but it was wearing him down. Meaning that they had a time limit on finding someone that could help with his Brand. "We'll have to bribe our way in."

"I could teleport us in," Ciri returned, and as if to disagree with her, she saw Witch Hunters pushing through the crowds of people. There was a general muttering as they passed by, but Ciri paused for the group to brush past them with little difficulty despite her worst fears. It should take at least a day for the news from Oxenfurt to reach the city. Hopefully, they could keep their heads down low enough that the Witch Hunters wouldn't realize that the 'champions' that had been 'kidnapped' by Puck were walking around free.

Guts grunted but seemed against the idea. Thanks to Geralt, she was pretty used to deciphering grunts. Leaving the possibility open, they continued onward. It was pretty easy to tell where the old shantytown ended and where the newer buildings began. They were equally ramshackle, but the older buildings had signs that they had been there for about as long as there was a city. But, a far better indication was… the bodies.

Ciri narrowed her eyes at the burnt pieces of wood that were laid underneath the blackened corpses of people, their bodies kept up by a single piece of dark wood that they were bound to because their flesh fused to it in death. The skeletal structure made it easy to tell them apart -- dwarves being the most obvious. There were a fair number of elves and even a few humans tossed into the mix. The pyres flanked the main road leading up to the gates of Novigrad, one on each side and they were near evenly spaced apart.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Guts frowning at the pyres. “Too much soot,” he remarked, looking down at the ground, and Ciri found that he was right. There was too much soot and ash. Meaning that it wasn’t the first time a pyre had been placed there. If she had to guess, the Witch Hunters had been reusing the same locations about a half dozen times. Ciri did the math on reflex, wondering how many had been burnt at the stake… and she found the answer regrettable.

“Puck, you can’t come out at all,” Ciri said in a low voice as she walked, a deep frown tugging at her lips. “Novigrad might be called a free city, but it's ruled by the Eternal Flame now. If you’re anything other than a human… your life is in constant danger here,” Ciri told the fairy, glancing down at Gut’s belt to see that he was peering through the slight gap in the pouch. It felt like it wasn’t that long ago when the only issue were the gangs that ruled Novigrad.

That seemed to catch Guts’ attention. “Free city?” he grumbled as they neared the bridge that would take them to the gate. Despite the sheer volume of people outside of the city that wanted to get in, the bridge itself was sparsely populated. Only those that hadn’t been rebuffed once before were making the attempt.

“Novigrad is self-governed by a ruling council. Allegedly. It’s mostly run by gangs, merchant families, banks, and the secret police. It’s within King Radovid’s domain, but he has no real claim to it. Nor does it pay him any kind of homage or taxes. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, to be honest. But, it’s always been an independent city, no matter how much anyone tried to leverage them one way or another,” Ciri answered as they passed by a barker.

For a child that couldn’t be any older than eight, he had a pair of lungs in him. “Enlistment in tha army! Skills hands wanted! Labors wanted! Fighters wanted! Fightin’ for King Radovid is fightin’ for the North!” The child shouted at the top of his lungs, looking bored out of his mind as he seemed to have been repeating those words for hours on end. “Pays a wage! Two meals a day! Enlistment in tha army! Skills hands wanted!”

The war was still going strong, it would seem. It wasn’t a surprise that Radovid was trying to recruit from the population that had been displaced. How much success he would find was anyone’s guess. Especially considering how bad the shanty town was proving to be.

“It ever been sacked?” Guts questioned and Ciri took a second to ponder the question as Guts inspected the walls around the city. It was almost like Oxenfurt. Novigrad seemed to just rise out of the water, seated on a handful of islands located in the mouth of the Pontar. She still remembered the first time she saw it.

“I don’t think so?” Ciri hesitated to answer, not coming up with a specific example. She gave him an expectant look when he just grunted, not explaining what the information meant to him.

“It’s a prize, then,” Guts elaborated. “Sounds to me the war is a drawn-out one. Wars like that, it’s all about who has the resources to keep fighting. Someone better take it soon because if they don’t, you could end up in a hundred-year war,” he muttered to himself as he glared at the city, almost as if he was planning to conquer it himself.

A hundred years of war. That sounded like a nightmare. “I wouldn’t wish a sack on anyone,” Ciri returned as they finally approached the gate. There was a small line and long before they reached the front of it, Ciri knew what they were going to be greeted with.

“Piss off! Novigrad ain’t acceptin’ any refugees anymore. You lot are all too late, so go back to the shantytown and fuck off,” the guard told them, his voice almost strained with how much he had been repeating himself, only changing the words around while the message itself remained the same. No one was welcomed in Novigrad.

“We’re not refugees,” Guts growled at the man, reaching into his coin pouch before pulling out ten royals. The guard started to sneer, and Ciri could see it in his face. The bribe wasn’t going to be enough. High demand increased everything, including the price of bribes. However, the guard abruptly swallowed whatever he was about to say when Guts pressed the coins into his hand.

“Er… right,” the guard fumbled, glancing at his mates -- a good dozen guardsmen posted at the gate, who looked torn between laughing at his misery and jumping in to help. “Well, folk with business are more than welcomed. Welcome to Novigrad,” the guard decided, gesturing that they could enter the city. And as soon as they passed the gate by, she heard the guards forced to deal with other refugees that were shouting to be let in as well.

Despite her fears, Novigrad didn’t strike her as overcrowded. It was always a fairly densely packed city of some thirty thousand people, making it one of the most populous cities in the North. Which wasn’t that big, but the city itself wasn’t particularly large. If Novigrad was more densely packed than normal, it wasn’t immediately obvious.

“Where do we start to look?” Guts questioned and, she had to admit, it was a very good question. A very good question, she decided, seeing another group of Witch Hunters on the street. They seemed drunk based on how they moved, possibly off duty, but they still had their weapons on them and people gave them a wide berth. In the initial plan, it would have been extremely simple to find either Triss or Yennifer.

Basically, she would just ask where the most expensive and luxurious hotel or villa in the city was and go there, and she was bound to find one of the two. Or find someone who could tell her where they were. But, she wasn’t expecting the Witch Hunters to have such a presence. It meant that the smart sorcerers and sorceresses would keep a low profile. It wouldn't make it impossible to find them, just a little more difficult than anyone wanted. Especially her.

She wanted to see Yennefer again. She wanted to see Triss again. She wanted to see Geralt again. And everyone else.

“A tavern,” Ciri decided. That's where news flowed in cities.

"... Are you sure that's a good idea?" Puck said in a stage whisper, just loud enough to hear. "We don't have a good track record with taverns," he added. A point. To that end, Ciri looked at Guts.

"Is your Brand bleeding?" She questioned, making Guts nod. Meaning that there were monsters in the city. Not ideal. "Did we learn anything from Oxenfurt?" She asked, making him narrow his eyes at her before grunting again. A confirmation. That was good. "Just hold off on taking action. Monsters in the city are a different breed. They need to be able to blend in so they will be sapient. Some are going to be like Gael, but others… they can be better people than most people."

Guts' gaze drifted to a central square where there were more pyres being made as they passed by. "Not a high bar," he remarked, speaking the truth of it.

"Just keep an open mind and don't smash first," Ciri advised, and she knew that was the utmost that she could ask for. To her memory, she knew where a few brothels and taverns were located. They tended to be strategically placed where people coming into the city could find them or where nearby to where the laborers finished their day. And despite the dire situation Novigrad was facing, it didn't seem to affect the people overly much. That was likely because they kept everyone outside of the city that would bring down the mood.

It was as they continued through the city that Guts started to seem more irritable. And it was when she looked at him, she saw a small drop of blood spill out from his brand, telling her that a monster was near. He met her eyes and Ciri nodded, turning her gaze to the crowd, searching for who it could be. There was enough shade that she couldn't rule out another vampire. However, vampires were hardly the only monsters that inhabited cities.

As it would turn out, she wouldn't have to search overly hard because her gaze spotted a man looking at her with a slack jaw and wide eyes. A halfling. Closely shaven head, ears that stuck out, clean shaven, and he wore fine merchant attire. A smile found its way on her face before she even realized it. "Dudu?" Ciri called out, offering the doppler a wave to confirm that she saw him. And Dudu smiled right back, all but leaping over the heads of bystanders before forcing his way through the rest of the people.

"Ciri! I thought that was you!" Dudu greeted her warmly, approaching with a broad smile. The Doppler was more of a friend to Geralt than her, but that didn't mean he wasn't a friend all the same. The Doppler could take any living form that he desired, but in recent years, he favored the form of a halfling -- the supposed cousin of a notable merchant. Because of his true nature, Dudu looked the exact same despite a number of years passing since their last meeting. For one, he wasn't taller than her anymore.

Ciri's smile abruptly fell when she realized that Guts was standing right next to her and a quick glance saw that his hand was drifting up to his sword. "Guts! This is Dudu. A friend," she stressed, making Guts narrow his eyes at her before looking down at Dudu, not even bothering to disguise his look of contempt. Dudu cast a nervous look in Ciri's direction. "Dudu, this is Guts. He's also a friend." Sort of.

"Guts. That's a name. Well, nice to be making your acquaintance, Guts," Dudu said, his tone perfectly polite while he looked up at Guts. Ciri noted that his gaze was shifty. With Gael, the vampire looked at Guts like he was the very last bottle of wine in the world for an alcoholic. His gaze had portrayed naked greed and desire, as if he were a moth drawn to a flame. Like he couldn't help himself. Dudu was far more restrained but there was clearly still some kind of draw that Guts had on him.

Guts just grunted in response. Dudu seemed a bit uneasy, looking at Ciri and finding her car easier to talk to. "What brings you to Novigrad? I figured you'd be walking the Path with Geralt now that he has his memories again.*

Wait, what? "Memories? What?" Ciri blurted, unable to contain her surprise. Dudu seemed uncertain for a moment, scratching at his ear as he looked between the two of them.

"How about we go to someone that has the full story? They'll probably be able to help you more than I can, at any rate," Dudu offered, gesturing for them to follow him. Ciri cast a meaningful look at Guts as she followed the Doppler, one that he caught, but gave no indication that he would abide what she was silently asking -- to show some self restraint. His arms were hidden underneath the ratty black cloak he wore, but she knew that his hands would be clenched into fists at his sides.

Dudu led them through the city, talking all the while. He was a merchant at heart and news flowed to him easily enough and he had a keen ear for rumors. Apparently, the Nilfgaardian army was advancing on Oxenfurt, having cut through dry areas in the crookback bog -- a first in history according to Dudu. There was no word on any battles yet, but the general consensus was that Radovid was planning to give it rather than hide behind the tall walls of Oxenfurt. Beyond that, Dudu alluded to making a real profit off of the war.

By the time that he was done describing how he finessed a number of merchants, they arrived at a… brothel?

"Rosemary and Thyme?" Ciri questioned as Dudu pushed the doors open, seeing the name painted over a sign rather sloppily. Despite the attempts of making it more appealing by adding painted on pictures of rosemary and thyme.

"You'll never guess who the cat drug in!" Dudu announced to a completely empty brothel that seemed to be in the middle of a number of renovations. Perhaps it was because it was a brothel, Ciri almost expected to see who popped their head up from beneath a counter, looking absolutely frustrated up until the moment their eyes met.

"Ciri?!" Dandelion exclaimed, his eyes going wide while a laugh spilled out of Ciri's mouth. "Sweet heavens, it's you!" He continued, leaping over the counter, and they raced forward, sweeping each other up in a warm embrace. "Oh, it's been entirely too long. Where have you been? I started to worry I might never see you again!"

"I'm fine, Dandelion," Ciri told him in all honesty. In truth, she was the most fine she had been since leaving Night City. Seeing Dandelion again was like a balm to her aching soul. She hadn't realized how much she had missed the lecherous bard until she saw him. "It's a long story, I'm afraid."

"I imagine," Dandelion said, taking a step back and resting his hands on her shoulders. His gaze only barely lingered on the scar on her cheek, but he seemed to drink her in, as if she would vanish the moment he looked away. Given her habit of exactly that, it was hard to blame him. "And who is your fine companion?"

"He's Guts. He… it's complicated," Ciri decided, knowing that if she begun her tale then it would be some time before the one she wanted to hear would be told. Geralt lost his memories. How? The last time she saw him was that he had been riding with the Wild Hunt, though she never learned why. He had been bait for her, which she had no choice but to take. Freeing him had nearly cost her her freedom and it was the reason why she had been forced to bounce between worlds, jumping blindly, before settling in Night City for a year.

Dandelion seemed sorely disappointed, "Of all the things you could have inherited from Geralt, it had to be that," Dandelion remarked with a theatrical shake of his head. Ciri smiled at the bard, reaching up and giving one of his hands a squeeze. "I'm not surprised, mind you. It's very expected. And just like Geralt, I imagine you aren't here solely for the pleasure of my magnificent company?"

He had her there. "A few reasons, but what's this about Geralt losing his memories?" She pressed and a sorrowful look passed over Dandelion's face as he gestured for Ciri to take a seat at the bar while Dudu made drinks for all of them. She hardly noticed Guts leaning against the wall.

"That tale sadly begins with a group you rather well know -- the Wild Hunt," Dandelion began and Ciri was forced to recall that Dandelion was one of the most famous minstrels in the sphere for good reason. His tale began with Geralt having arrived at Kaer Morhen without any memories and clueless on why he lacked them, to an attack that cut the number of Witchers in the world even lower and Geralt's quest to find answers and revenge. He gained both, but he then found himself in service to King Foltest until the king was unceremoniously assassinated and Geralt subsequently blamed.

Dandelion told her how Geralt joined forces with a member of the Temerian secret service, a man named Vernon Roche. Working together with him and Triss, Geralt went about proving his innocence while hunting the real assassin and stumbled assbackward into a conspiracy of the  Lodge of Sorceresses, alliances made between the Northern Kingdoms, and the plots of her father to destabilize the north in preparation for another invasion.

And now, there was little weird about Geralt beyond that he was looking for Yennefer, who had been missing for the past year.

In short, it wasn't the story that she wanted to hear. Especially about Yennefer, but if she were here, Ciri knew that she'd just get a scolding for worrying about her. Yennefer was capable and could protect herself. She wasn't the one Ciri had to worry about. Geralt was.

"Do you have any idea where Triss is?" Ciri questioned, digesting the story after a long pause. She really couldn't take her eyes off of Geralt for one second. It was like he wasn't satisfied unless he stumped into every single spot of trouble.

To that, Dandelion shook his head. "Rumors, my dear. I know she's the head of the mage underground. Novigrad started out as a safe haven for mages initially, but they soon became the source of all its woes according to the Mage Hunters. Which, incidentally, is how they got their nickname. And you know how the populous do love to have someone to blame for all of their woes."

Guts spoke up, almost startling her, "Have they gotten any?"

"Oh! You do speak," Dandelion remarked before frowning. "The answer to that question is far fewer than they claim, but they've managed to capture and burn at least three that I recognize."  He answered, making Ciri wince. It was horrible all around, she decided. How many people had been burnt at the stake because of a false accusation? She couldn't tell what was worse -- the false accusations or the fact that the Witch Hunters were effective enough to actually capture sorcerers. "I can put the word out that we're looking for her, but I suspect that the mage underground will be suspicious by nature of any reaching out."

We. This was why she missed Dandelion -- as much as he may mock Geralt for attracting so much trouble, he would be right next to him through it. If only to complain. It was a reassuring feeling.

"How long would that take?" Ciri questioned, glancing at Guts. "We only have until sundown before we have to leave the city. Though, we could come back in the morning." It would just be an issue with the guards and why they keep going in and out.

"I don't rightly know, dear. But that does sound like an interesting stipulation. Is your dear friend a werewolf by chance? He certainly smells like one," Dandelion remarked, a teasing smile on his lips that faded slightly when Guts didn't so much as twitch, much less laugh at the joke.

"There's something weird with him," Dudu said, squinting his eyes at Guts. In response, Guts narrowed his eyes right back, clearly unhappy with his restraint, even if Ciri was thankful that he was bothering to show any. "Its… I don't know. It's weird."

Interesting. Very interesting. Sadly, their efforts to learn what effect the brand had on sapient monsters hadn't amounted to much. The most that they had gotten was some incoherent ranting and the evidence that Gael was willing to risk his life just to take a bite of Guts, ignoring all thoughts of self preservation. The effects on Dudu seemed far less pronounced, but there was still a clear draw to him.

"That's part of why we need Triss," Ciri offered because Guts wouldn't give an explanation. "Dudu… could you tell me what you're feeling right now? Because, come nightfall, all non-sapient or sentient monsters are going to come after Guts like he bathed in monster bait," she offered and Dudu seemed a little affronted that he was included in the category of monster.

However, he swallowed his indignation as he looked at Guts, his face pinching as he tilted his head. "It's… I dunno. Like I said, it's weird. But, I just have this… gut feeling that he has something that I want. Or… hm… or it's like… you know how you feel after a long shitty day where nothing went right? And you just want to go home and fall asleep for… forever? It kind of feels like that, except that guy feels like 'home.'" Dudu explained, making Ciri's brow furrowing. "Don't read into it big fella. You aren't my type."

Guts grunted. That one sounded amused. Ciri glanced at him, "Does that mean anything to you?" She asked him, keenly aware how little she knew about the Brand. She didn't even know how Guts got it.

He seemed to think on it for the briefest of moments and based on how his face tightened, it did mean something to him. "No," he lied through clenched teeth. The answer demanded an end to the line of questioning and Ciri nodded in response, knowing that she wouldn't get the truth from him.

Still, it was an interesting observation. Her first instinct was to say that it was a homing instinct. Just like birds had when they migrated -- they would fly off for the winter, and come back to the same spot in the spring. It was an instinct that drove them home. However, that didn't quite fit. If the Brand registered as 'home' to everything not native to the sphere, then by that logic, every human should give Guts the same reaction. He should be getting mobbed on the streets by humans instead of given a wide berth because of his size and scowl.

No, there was more to it. She would need more information to come to a conclusion, but she was increasingly convinced that the Brand was somehow connected to the spheres themselves. Somehow.

"I need to find Triss," Ciri decided, muttering the words out loud. She was far more educated on the nature of magic than she was. If Yennefer really was missing, then Triss became her best hope of helping Guts out. Once they figured out how to mask the draw of the Brand, then she could focus on getting him back where he belonged.

Ciri nearly jumped in her chair when the doors to the brothel swung open with an alarming amount of force, making her spin around in her stool, jumping to her feet. She wasn't the only one, though she froze in her tracks.

A single figure stepped into the doorway, dressed in fine, but practical clothing complete with a clock that was pushed back to reveal a mane of fiery red hair that was tied up, bright green eyes, and a beautiful face that was lightly dusted with freckles. "Dandelion, do you-" Triss began, cutting herself short when she nearly tripped over her own two feet when her eyes landed on Ciri.

A disbelieving laugh escaped Ciri.

That was certainly a lot easier than she expected.