174 Toussaint (Part 13)

"This pie is the best! We need to eat it every morning! Every, I tell you." - exclaimed Ciri. She forgot everything and everyone around. Only a dish registered in her senses.

Alan glanced at her with a slight smile.

They stopped inside a small inn. Morning light lit the blurry glass of the windows, leaving the inner hall in comfortable darkness.

"By the heron, Frank knows how to make pies. Right, Frank?" - said Palmerin with burning enthusiasm. It played in contrast with overly strict posture and etiquette the knight followed, forming a comical picture.

Frank kept silent. That was rare for the locals. What Alan noticed, people here loved to talk. Sometimes to death.

"Alan, try it!" - Ciri said, while her face was full of icing sugar.

"Swallow before speaking and wipe your mouth."

"Grumpy like Geralt. He always complains too." - said Ciri with a pout, but forgot everything again with another bite.

"Palmerin. Come clean already. I will leave if you don't."

"That is what I want to talk about, young Alan. I know that witchers kill monsters for money and that is their job and all. And I have a very profitable proposition for you. It is about my... khm."

"Are you ill?" - asked Ciri with wide eyes.

"No."

"Then why are you coughing on my pie?"

"Ciri." - Alan looked at her. - "Eat your pie, be a dear."

"Fine. Eat your pie, eat your pie. I'm already eating. Like I don't know how to eat a pie..."

She took an entire plate and sat on the nearby table. But turned to the side slightly. Alan glanced at her again and shook his head in a barely visible manner. Does she think he won't notice her little trick?

Her position clearly told Alan, that she is trying to hear their conversation better.

"Khm, Alan Violergos, the witcher, I am here to humbly implore you not to kill Natanis. She is not evil at all. By the heron, I'm telling the truth."

"That is for me to decide."

Palmerin traced his mustache and moved on the chair. The latter felt like giving its last breath to the assault of the knight in full armor, but survived after a loud creak.

"We can pay. More than the duchess." - he said.

"Do you want me to lose my head?"

The chair creaked again. Alan stared at the knight with heaviness in his gaze.

"The amount will impress you."

"I'm very hard to impress." - shrugged Alan. - "We hunt monsters that hunt people. We don't kill harmless creatures."

"She killed no one."

"You said so." - Alan shrugged and took a sip of tea. It was painfully bitter and left a weird aftertaste. He placed a cup on the spotless table, not willing to touch it anytime soon. - "I don't understand this tea."

"You don't?" - Palmerin looked at his cup with politeness of etiquette and no thoughts. - "What a shame. It is an excellent tea. Of course, I prefer something stronger."

Alan ignored his intent to get drunk early in the morning.

"Just like I don't understand it, I don't understand you, sir Palmerin. You lack a wife? Or you are in love with Natanis? Do you realize she is a succubus? They can't be with one man. Sex is their necessity, like food to us. Tell me, Palmerin, can you survive on one type of dish for a lifetime? No? Even if you don't eat different dishes, you still have a few and crave for a new taste."

"She said I'm the only one for her. She said if she could be with me, she needs no one else. And I saw it in her eyes. I believe her."

"You are much more naive than I thought."

Palmerin went pale, and then his mood darkened.

"By the heron, you shouldn't speak ill of lady Natanis! She is not like that."

"Foolish." - said the young witcher with a calm look.

Ciri nodded and smirked at Palmerin. She thought no one saw that. Alan gave her a glare. She turned away, pretending to be very enthralled by the old crack in the wooden wall, while her ear perked cutely.

"Your analogy with food is... tactless and foul, sir. Here, in Toussaint, we don't welcome such way of describing ladies of the duchy. I would appreciate it if you mind your words."

"I find it rather accurate."

The hall became bright.

Sun rose over the lands. New day has come, but few people saw how unusually crimson was the sunrise.

"So, you are willing to take an innocent life just like that? I thought you have honor, principles, creed. Like us, knights, have our five virtues. But it seems I thought too much." - Palmerin raised his voice at Alan with narrowed eyes.

The hall was nearly empty. Little to no people turned to them and looked with reproach. Ciri gripped the sword. It never leaves her side now. She pushed a plate with half-eaten pie to the side and stared at the knight with serious eyes.

Years of hardships taught her to be ready for a fight at every moment.

"Calm down. I told you, if she is harmless, I won't kill her. I'm a witcher, not a butcher."

"Some people beg to differ, Butcher of Buki." - said the knight. His blue eyes flashed with unclear intent.

Silence descended between the two. Alan was surprised to know that he knew. They were far away from the north, yet tales about him reached their ears.

"And others prefer to think with their own heads, judging what they see in front of their own eyes, sir Palmerin. I'm a professional." - he rubbed his temples, feeling irritated with the headstrong knight. - "Let's make it simple. I can't leave everything like it is now. I see your play. You think my age is not comparable with yours and you are right. You are double as old as me. However, that means nothing in terms of my own principles and experience. I have my own working ethics."

Palmerin breathed out and calmed down. He thought for a while and when Alan was ready to stand up and leave, Palmerin talked again with a fresh feeling to his voice.

"I offer apologies for my rash words, sir Alan. Please don't think ill of me. I merely offered a deal and found some of your words hurtful, but deep down I know they are truthful. I also know how hard it can be for a witcher to make a living. While travelling around the lands of the Empire I heard stories about witchers. People generally hate your kind and never trust you. Especially after the events concerning Cat School. I am not insulting you. By the heron, I'm not. Don't think that way. But I can't let you kill an innocent person. Why don't we make a step back and think about the greater good for both of us?"

Alan twitched and grew even more irritated. Palmerin surely loved to preach about morals that he hardly understands. Alan developed allergy for phrases like "greater good" and "bigger picture".

"That is what I'm talking about, Palmerin." - said Alan with pressure. - "It is for me to decide whether or not she is innocent. Not you. Not your friends that like to visit her instead of your wives. And not even Her Highness."

"That is a loud declaration." - Palmerin said with a threat in his voice. - "You can't disregard Her Highness on the lands of Toussaint. And you can't insult her. I am a knight of Her Highness. I gave a pledge. As you are new and never committed a crime, this time I will give you just a warning. Don't talk about Her Highness irresponsibly. It won't end well. On the lands of Toussaint Her Highness can decide who is innocent and who is guilty."

Alan never lowered his head or his gaze. Even Palmerin found it impressive.

The chair creaked again. It tried to show how tired the wood becomes. Although the duo can feel themselves at home, forgetting the guest status they have is wrong.

"Noted." - finally said Alan and finished the cup. This tea was really not to his liking.

Too deep, too sophisticated, yet served in a simple cup with simple decorations. Perhaps the teamaker himself never understood how ridiculous it looked like from the side.

"Let's go, Ciri."

"I liked the pie. But not the atmosphere." - she stood up and followed Alan, closing the door. Palmerin remained there. He was watching them leave with nervous eyes.

"Palmerin is not that bad if you think about it. He is naive." - warm wind welcomed them outside. - "He didn't demand a duel or forced his opinion on us. As for Her Highness... actually, he is right. She is a ruler here. If she is not the one to enforce the law and judge, who is?"

The eagle in the sky cried. It was far away.

Flying over the orphanage, they left yesterday.

Alan looked at it, outlined by the rays of sunlight, and frowned.

"Let's go." - he checked the swords briefly. - "We have something to do."

Eagle cried in the sky again and descended somewhere in the poor quarters with great speed like it would do to seize a prey.