Castoff: Sweet Lies (ch. 11) (Patreon)

Radovid was the only other king that Guts had ever seen, and however begrudgingly, he could admit that he was more impressive than the king of Midland. The man had been so unimpressive that Guts didn't even know his name all these years later. But, that wasn't a particularly high bar. What Guts did notice, however, was the fact that Radovid walked like a soldier. There was a special kind of gait that people moved with when they martched more than they walked and Guts recognized it.

There was a fixed pleasant smile on his face as he greeted nobles on his way that didn't reach his eyes. His clothing was impractical for a fight, but if the king was fighting then something had gone spectacularly poorly. In all, with the quickest of glanced, Guts realized he might have judged the king too quickly. He hid it well enough, but Guts recognized the signs simply because he shared them -- Radovid didn't want to be here any more than Guts did.

"Your majesty," Caleb said, dropping to a knee the moment that Radovid neared. He shot a look up at Guts, clearly expecting him to bow. As if. If he refused to bow to the devil, then why would he bother with a king? Instead, Guts met the king's eye, judging his reaction and saw that Radovid took the lack of respect with grace. He wasn't the type to get dragged up by ceremony. Even better.

"Caleb, no need to stand on ceremony. It's a party," Radovid greeted the Witch Hunter with a tone of familiarity. They clearly knew each other and Guts ventured that they knew each other well. The Witch Hunter stood up and only then did Radovid turn his attention to him -- Radovid's eyes ran the length of him, measuring him for a long moment. In that moment, Guts saw Ciri out of the corner of his eye.

She was mouthing something at him. 'Get away from him, you idiot' was Guts best guess.

"Well, introduce me to your companion, Caleb. He does seem like a man with a story to tell," Radovid remarked, his voice decidedly neutral. The other nobility were hovering about, clearly hoping to catch the King's ear, but there were a few mutterings of displeasure that noble blood had been ignored in favor of speaking to a lowborn Witch Hunter first. Guts didn't see Triss amongst them, seemingly lost within the crowd.

Was she really about to kill the king? Guts didn't particularly care one way or the other if the guy lived or died, but that was one hell of a secret to only reveal just before the deed would be done.

"This is…-" Caleb began to introduce him hesitating as he did so because he wasn't sure what name to use, but Guts interjected.

"Guts," Guts introduced himself, his voice low and steady. If Triss wanted a distraction, then he would give it. None of it really matters so long that she held up her end of the bargain. "I just borrowed the name of Redfield," he admitted, curious what the reaction would be.

Radovid blinked but otherwise gave no reaction. "I take it you must be quite new at this," he remarked after a small pause. "When impersonating nobility, it's generally a poor idea to confess that fact to the king." He sounded more amused than anything, but underneath it was a deadly edge. He didn't seem afraid of Guts -- either because he was young and stupid, or because he trusted his guards. In any case, that was something that few could readily boast.

"If you manage to find a rope thick enough to hang me, then you're welcome to try," Guts returned, meeting his gaze flatly. Radovid looked like he was fighting off a smirk, and Guts could see him considering giving the order.

"Impersonating nobility isn't a hanging offense," Radovid remarked, his tone as light as a feather.

"You do seem partial to burning," Guts agreed, making him narrow his eyes while Caleb bristled, shooting Guts a fierce look. If he had a sword, he would have drawn it.

"You will not address his Majesty as 'you'," Caleb spat the word out like it was poison, earning a mild glance from Guts. "You will refer to him as his Majesty," he lectured, getting a grip on the harshness of his tone but they still earned glanced from nobles that lingered nearby, more than a few of them chuckling at his faux pas.

Guts glanced back at Radovid, "That seems tedious." As did this entire conversation. He really hoped that Triss would just kill him already.

"What a rare insolent creature you are," Radovid observed, not sounding particularly angry, though he was less amused. "I imagine it would be tedious. In any case, Guts, if you aren't here to beseech me for my favor as the rest of the nobility here, then tell me why you are here," he instructed, speaking in a tone of voice that told Guts that Radovid was a man used to being obeyed in all things. As he finished the command, Guts saw Triss.

She was dressed as a servant, he realized. Her bright red hair colored black and her eyes were a muddy brown. Not with magic. Glass lenses based on the faint edge just outside of her iris. Their gazes met ever so briefly, and her gaze conveyed the same message that Ciri mouthed. Then her eyes flickered down when she presented a tray of wines for them to take.

Caleb and Radovid took a glass each, hardly acknowledging her and she moved on. Poison, huh? Hopefully a fast acting one. However, it was Caleb who spoke, "Your majesty, this man has information about the creature that attacked Oxenfurt. A creature that I suspect to be connected to the other incidents." He voiced lowered an octave, and Radovid's expression went blank.

"Other incidents?" Guts questioned, that catching his attention. What other incidents? What could that mean? He was the only one with the brand in this Sphere. Puck was an idiot that made up a bold-faced lie to cover up the fact that he and Ciri were responsible for the spirits and teleporting away.

Radovid glanced at him, then at Caleb. "We will speak later. Now, I must give a speech," he stated, taking a single sip of his wine before he departed, heading outside to the gardens. Guts went still when he saw that his entourage had been busy since they arrived. After seeing the remnants of so many, Guts easily recognized a pyre.

"Stay where I can see you, Guts," Caleb instructed. "And if that thing has any intentions for tonight, you are to guard his Majesty with your life. All of the North is depending on him to beat back the Nilfgaardians. Which means they might make their own attempt on his life." Caleb continued, knocking back the wine in a large gulp before setting it on a tray of a servant that was making their way outside. There was no outright order, but the banquet hall just seemed to empty out, following the king like a needy dog.

His gaze caught Ciri's, who gave him a very pointed look and inclined her head to the door. In response, he glanced at Caleb, who was moving outside, simply expecting Guts to follow him. As if expecting Guts to give a shit about some king. Guts started to turn away, going to join Ciri, only to freeze in place when he heard the faintest whisper in his ear..

"Damn you," Guts heard, making him go still. A hand went to his neck -- did the Seal suddenly fail? Guts' gaze darted to the shadows and he saw them start to writh, something in them beginning to stir. Guts heard panicked shouts outside, telling him that he wasn't the only one that had noticed the vengeful spirits. His gaze met Ciri's to see that her eyes were widening and he pulled down the stuffy collar to expose the Seal.

'It's still there,' Ciri mouthed the words, approaching Guts and retreating from the exit. His mind tore into the question, the sun setting and as the darkness grew, as did the spirits.

"Be calm, good people. Be calm!" Radovid exclaimed, his voice carrying over the sounds of terror that came outside. "There is nothing to fear. Everything is under control. You are safe! The whispers you hear are all they are -- whispers." Radovid continued, his voice strong and calm, and like sheep, the nobility flocked to it as a sense of comfort.

"Where's Puck?" Ciri questioned, following guts outside to see that the garden area was full to capacity. A number of Witch Hunters stood in front of the pyres while some priests started swinging incense. He wasn't so quick to dismiss it -- for all he knew, what they were swinging would have some effects on the spirits.

"I don't know," Guts answered, his voice low, looking down at Radovid to see that he stood before the pyres.

Radovid continued, his voice ringing out over muttered cries of shock when a spirit drifted up from the shadows and moved. However, Guts saw that something was wrong. The spirits themselves weren't trying to possess anyone. They don't cling to the living in a desperate hope to escape their wretched existence. They seemed aimless instead of flocking to the living like a moth drawn to a flame. More importantly, Guts didn't see a source of the spirits.

"For more than a thousand years, humanity has been here after the Conjunction of the Spheres, and for a thousand years, our way of life has proven superior to all others that came before us. For it is our destiny, by the grace of the Eternal Flame, to become the rulers of this land." Radovid spoke, his voice loud and clear. Guts narrowed his eyes at the drivel, not really paying it any mind as he focused on what was drawing the spirits. What did Radovid have that could bring them forward? Because the only thing that Guts could think of was the Brand.

"We have taken the reigns to the world. The two greatest empires are both human in nature, and it is now that we -- the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire -- must compete for supremacy. For while we are both human, our existences are inconsolable." He continued, sounding like he had rehearsed the speech a number of times. "We have embraced the Eternal Flame, whose light illuminates us and banished the dark and unnatural." And if on cue, a number of braziers that had been placed ignited, pushing back the shadows.

Guts smelled something and it wasn't just bullshit. The air had an oily hint to it. The Witch Hunter's were burning something and the effect on the spirits was like a cup of water poured on a flame. They began to dissipate, retreating back into the shadows where they could only curse at the living.

"The Nilfgaardian Empire has fallen to the same trap that we fell in. That we have only recently freed ourselves of," Radovid continued, his hands spreading out wide. "The dangers of magic and the supernatural. For a thousand years, we allowed ourselves to be complacent to sorceresses and sorcerers, believing in their otherworldly powers because it was convenient for us to do so. Because they offered the seductive power to bend the natural world to our will. And for our willful ignorance, we paid a terrible price. We allowed ourselves to be ruled by mages, your kings chosen by the Eternal Flame were but puppets and the Lodge of Sorcerers  their puppeteers."

There was genuine hate in his voice, Guts realized. He was dressing it up and channeling it in some flowery language, but at the core of it was genuine hatred. His purge of the mages wasn't some religious crusade. It was a personal one.

"Nilfgaard believes that it can control its mages, who flock to their banner out of fear of Justice. But we in the North know the truth. It is the mages who control the Empire now," Radovid said, and Guts got the impression that he didn't really believe that. But the crowd sure did as they started to buy into the speech. "It is those mages, and those inhumans, who broker unnatural deals to rob us of our natural place at the top of the world. Who would damn us all for the sake of their own power and indulgences."

Guts narrowed his eyes, the rhetoric was something deeply familiar to him and his heart started to beat a few ticks faster.

Did Radovid have an Apostle? No… no… that didn't make sense. That wouldn't explain the spirits. No, what he had… he had a Sacrifice.

Guts started to move forward, Radovid's words falling on dead ears as he pushed through the crowd. "Today, I will show you what will be done to those that broker with such unnatural forces. To mages, to inhumans, and to desperate people that lost their way -- for all of them are a threat to our way of life, and they must be punished. Harshly. Or all may suffer the consequences," Radovid continued just as Guts reached the front of the crowd.

The Witch Hunter's had dragged three people onto the pyres, a bag of their heads. Two were resisting fiercely, thrashing and clicking as they were bound. The one directly behind Radovid, however, didn't. She wore a simple white garb, her skin a dark shade that stood in contrast to the pale skin of everyone else around her, and beyond the edge of the hood, Guts saw black hair.

It felt like he was moving in a dream. His head suddenly became light headed, his heart felt like it was about to leap through his chest. Everything sounded like it was happening far away or underwater. Because he saw it. Peaking out in a small opening of the gown was the Brand, barely a fraction of it, but enough that he knew what it was. And where it was.

Guts knew exactly who it would be even as the hoods were ripped off.

"Casca," Guts breathed, seeing her for the first time in two years. She almost looked the exact same as he remembered. Her black hair was messy and longer than he had ever seen it, but other than that… there was almost no change. The same bronzed skin tone, her narrow jawline with a stubborn chin and high cheekbones… her brown eyes that used to be so full of life and emotion were hollowed out and vacant.

"Guts, what are you doing-" Ciri hissed at him, grabbing hold of him but she cut herself off when she saw his expression. He didn't even know what it looked like but it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, driving all of the wind from his lungs. It felt like he couldn't tell if this was a dream or a nightmare.

It was Casca. She was here. She was supposed to be with Grotto and the others. She was supposed to be safe in that cave until she… she put her mind back together. Until she healed. But she was directly in front of him, tied to a pyre, and some fucking king was ranting and raving about the supremecy of the human race and the dangers of magic.

Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not getting back to his Sphere, not Triss's plan, none of it.

"Help me save her," Guts voiced, his voice strangled by emotion. "Please," he said, coming the closest he had ever come to begging.

"Of course," Ciri agreed and there weren't words to describe his relief at that moment. They simply didn't exist and the ones that did couldn't hope to convey a fraction of his gratitude. Ciri could teleport Casca far from here. To somewhere she would be safe.

Guts turned around, and strode forward, heading directly toward Casca. Radovid seemed a bit puzzled by what was going on, pausing his speech for the briefest of seconds, letting Guts get a word in, "Move." He growled the order, uncaring of who he was speaking to.

"What-" Radovid started, anger in his tone even as his guards made to intervene, drawing steel to keep him at bay.  But whatever he had left to say, no one would ever know. Guts snarled, his patience non-existent.

He lashed out with an iron fist, bashing the side of Radovid's skull with enough force that blood and shards of bone splattered on Caleb's face. Everything above the jaw was gone, torn through like a clever. Blood spurted up for a brief second, his heart not realizing that he was dead, and the force of the blow pushed his corpse out of the way.

Guts snarled, annoyed with the dead king and heading directly to Casca, whose gaze met his. In his heart, he had a desperate wish that he never let himself know. That when he returned to her, when they next met, that her mind would have healed. That maybe she could talk in something other than gibberish. Then… then he wouldn't feel so… alone. Because there would be someone else that could understand what happened that night -- the betrayal, the loss, the pain…

But those hopes were dashed the moment their eyes met. There was life in them but no awareness. She didn't recognize him. Casca didn't see him at all. "Pwehh?" She uttered as Guts approached -- not happy nor afraid, simply confused at what was going on.

"Get- Avenge the king-" Caleb started, going to rush him as he passed by. Guts was ready to kill him, but there was apparently no need. His hands went to his chest -- his heart specifically -- before he started to collapse in a heap directly on top of Radovid's corpse. Seems like he was wrong about who the assassination target was, Guts thought to himself, his gaze never leaving Casca, almost as if he was afraid that she would vanish the moment he took his eyes off of her. Caleb was the target. Triss poisoned the wine -- the timing was a little suspect, so the poison might have had some kind of trigger.

He didn't care. Not when he heard the sounds of utter chaos all around him, the people descending into a full blown panic. They were already on edge because of the spirits, and seeing the king die was less of a gentle nudge that sent them over the edge and more of a kick to the face. A royal guard screamed bloody murder, rushing him with a sword leveled at his chest. Guts reached out, his grip extending past the length of the blade to grab the man in full armor by the face and lifting him off of his feet. With a heave, Guts whipped him around, smashing the knight into another with enough force that bone shattered and the armor crumpled like parchment.

"Casca," Guts breathed, coming to a stop in front of her, wanting to reach out and touch her but he was afraid to. Afraid that she would collapse into sand or whatever illusion it could be. Was it Triss, maybe? Has she cast some kind of spell on him? Was she making him see her? It made more sense than Casca being here. He probably should have thought of that before he killed a king.

"Guts, you have to be-" Ciri brushed past him, going to Casca and cutting through the ropes that bound her to the pyre. "You have to be completely out of your mind! Do you have any idea what you just did?!" Ciri questioned him while Casca took a step forward, looking up at him. His heart leapt to his throat, pounding powerfully in his chest. He was more afraid in that moment than he ever had been of an apostle.

"Gweh?" Casca babbled, reaching up with a hand to cusp his cheek. Her hands were softer than Guts recalled, but it has been two years since she wielded a sword. The callouses hadn't completely vanished, but they were far less pronounced. "Gweh Faa?" She babbled, and more than anything in this world -- more than he wanted vengeance for his own soul -- he would give anything to understand what she was trying to tell him. To have a conversation with her. He'd happily go insane if it just meant that they could talk.

Guts reached up and cupped the hand that touched his cheek, something deep inside of him threatening to break at the small action. It just about killed him to remove her hand. "Ciri, get her out of here," He told her, swallowing a lump in his throat. The sounds of panic were everywhere now, the royal guard was taken out with ease, people were running around and trying to get away. Their fear and panic, in turn, drew more spirits to them. Some ended up getting possessed, leading them to attack others.

It was pure chaos, but it bought them a moment.

"What about you?" Ciri questioned, her expression puzzled.

"I need to pick up Dragonslayer," Guts told her, making her scoff.

"Guts, the entire northern Kingdoms are going to be after you for this. The Witch Hunter's are just going to be a start," Ciri told him, her gaze flickering down to Radovid while Casca reached down to pick up the crown in her hands before bringing it up to her mouth to chew on the gold and jewels, only to decide it wasn't as tasty as it looked.

Guts scowled, "Then I'll just kill them all." He returned and based on the expression that Ciri wore, she understood that wasn't an idle promise. He intended to do exactly that. The Witch Hunters knew about Casca, and that was reason enough for them all to die. He'd lure them all out and slaughter them to a man. "Get her out of here, Ciri. Don't worry about me."

"I- fine. Fine! But you better believe I expect an explanation after this, Guts," Ciri agreed before both her and Casca vanished in a flash of light. It made his heart clench as if it had been savagely squeezed, her departure happening so soon after their reunion. It was only as Guts turned away, ignoring the other two that were shouting to be saved as well that Guts' mind started to think about the situation.

It didn't make any sense, Guts decided as he pushed through the panicking crowd, his thoughts heavy as he ignored the chaos all around him. He just murdered a king, and he seemed to be the last thing on anyone's mind, the spirits plaguing them but they seemed to completely ignore Guts. It was an honest first for him. The one Witch Hunter that did try to stop him on his way was met with an iron fist to the top of the skull, smashing his head down into his collarbone and crushing the top of his ribcage.

Ciri had brought him here. He was at some 'Place of Power', she jumped Spheres, and somehow she picked him up for a ride along the way. Something about this Sphere had… undone the damage that he suffered at the hands of apostles. That's what he had assumed this entire time but Casca was here. She was here and that meant he was forced to throw those assumptions to the side.

He approached the wagon, seeing Dragonslayer sticking out of the back of it. Grabbing hold, Guts hefted the blade, pulling it from underneath the carriage, and letting it rest on his shoulder as he was forced to consider a very dangerous question.

It seemed impossible to believe that Casca had just so happened to also be in a place of power. Maybe that was the cave. Maybe not. But for Ciri to pick them both up on accident? When they were hundreds of miles apart? No. That was a big stretch in logic and Guts didn't believe it for a second.

Meaning that if Ciri hadn't brought him and Casca here…

Then who did?