Maribor, Triss and Ruins (Part 2)

"Heh, after a good snack and a great drink I can go and kick asses of those troublemakers in the ruins with open heart." - sneered Lambert.

"Who is the employer?" - asked Coen shifting his attention from eaten burger to local food with a sigh of disappointment.

"Gilbetan, what a strange name." - said Alan.

"Who asked for me?" - came a loud voice from the table he just wrecked with well casted little trick of fire. Well, blame Alan's luck, but it's not like he is a witcher.

"So you need a witcher and yet you are running your mouth all day long?" - asked Lambert irked by them.

"We got coins, you got swords and your bitchy mutations. Everyone's happy as long as the job done. Never heard you witchers are so tender to vie for someones liking. Take it or beat it, your choice." - scoffed the man nonchalantly, clearly thinking that their numbers can change the drill if it comes to battle. Poor naive sod.

"Typical humans. Can't you at least sometimes be a bit more than a dicks you are?" - grumbled Lambert with irritation.

"Yeah." - the guy spit on the floor. - "I love you too, cat eyes."

"Oh, really? Go drown yourself in a pool of piss as a sign of devotion." - Lambert had a gulp of beer and clicked his tongue with lack of satisfaction.

"The freak is barking. Shut it, will ya?" - raged one of the drunkards.

"How about I first beat some sense into you? So you will at least show basic respect for people risking their lives for you?"

"You risk for money, not us. You are just a greedy motherfucking monsters, a freaks. Should have all of ya killed long ago." - spit another.

"You are right in one thing, I really did your mom. She was average." - Lambert stood up, but was put down again by a large hand of his companion.

"Leave it. He is a dick, can't deny that, but the one with money. You can beat his sorry ass later, not gonna stop you at that. But first let him pay." - Coen still at the table said through his teeth.

"Good." - Lambert nodded and finished the drink with one gulp. - "And the beer you have can be as well mistaken with horse piss." - he gave a final evaluation of the local delicacy and left the hall, the other two didn't linger over their own table, but came up to Gilbetan to ask several questions about appointment.

"I think you don't mind me sitting here?" - Coen noted, while sitting down without waiting for the answer. - "So, what is this assignment all about?"

"Go read the board. Am I a library, or wha..." - looks like Coen had it enough too. A lightning like grab of dirty hair and his face was implanted into the table with a crunch of nasal bones shattering and blood dipping the surface. Several times with quick succession at that.

One of his buddies tried to stand up, but was put down with a jab in a chin, making him drift in semi-consciousness state.

"Can we talk nicely?" - Coen asked with calm face lacking any emotions. - "If not, you will receive one of the worst outcomes you can have after meeting an angry witcher." - he stopped talking and waited for something. Then he again rammed the face of Gilbetan into the table.

"Wha... zets fo?"

"When I said about bad outcomes it was a time for all of you to express interest. Are you interested?"

"Y-yes, milord..." - they mumbled in unison under amused look of Alan. Looks like Coen is the one with an issues when his temper explodes.

"So you are interested? That is good. Learning something new is always beneficial."

'I hardly doubt it.' - thought Alan standing aside.

"I will tell you." - said Coen with the same stoic face. - "One of the worst outcomes is Aard at point-blank range straight in the face. So I told you. If you behave badly, I don't mind showing you how it's done. I assure you, you will love it. It is very entertaining. Are we clear, guys?"

They all nodded with rapt obedience and Alan sighed. Really, people here tend to find it hard to understand good words without broken nose and half of the teeth missing. Strange occasion, but very common to see.

"Okay, now care to tell me, what is with the contract?" - Coen asked, but was suddenly interrupted.

"I doubt he is in any condition to share the information." - came the voice of a woman from the side. Witcher didn't pay her much heed, only turned his head.

But Alan immediately shifted and looked closely, not with caution, but curiosity. She had long straight legs in tight leather pants, adorned with high boots on the heels, a well proportioned body, developed astonishingly well with all the necessary curves and even more to boot. But when he raised his eye traveling through a jacket and a white-blue elegant blouse and finally locked his sight with hers, Alan stopped breathing for a moment, seeing only her cornflower blue gaze, deep and full of life, shining like the most precious sky sapphire in the world.

Her face was perfect, as if molded to be so, with sensual full lips, adorned by the side with locks of crimson hair. She was really a one of a kind beauty about twenty in age. At least outwardly. As for how many years she really lived and traveled this world – actually not that long. As far as Alan knew, she was at most thirty, perhaps a bit less, but what's this age for a sorceress?

Drop in the ocean.

And Alan will be a dork, if he didn't connect her with Maribor and how she looks.

"Do all sorceress look so breathtakingly beautiful?" - Alan asked with face, that surprisingly lacked any lust. It was as if a boy was truly admiring her and curious to find the answer.

"How do you think?" - she asked with a smile. It wasn't scheming one, but calming and warm. Triss felt good vibes from the boy and appreciated the subtle compliment. However, one shouldn't think that there will be no hidden dagger behind.

Alan chose caution and politeness as a way of interaction.

"I think everyone is unique." - he said seriously.

"Triss Merigold. A sorceress, also known as Fourteenth of the Hill and Merigold the Fearless. But better just call me Triss." - despite her smile was relaxed, Triss was actually astonished deep inside. Not with his lack of revere to her appearance, that she found more or less acceptable judging his age. No, his calmness and timed replies coupled with the fact that the witcher by the side let him lead the conversation made the flame of curiosity about discovering something new burn even brighter.

"Alan Violergos. A pleasure." - he made a polite but not subservient bow. - "As you prefer to be called by name, so am I. Just Alan is fine."

Triss nodded, shifting her gaze to the witcher.

"Coen of Chimera School."

"Chimera?" - Triss asked with surprise. - "Can't say I never heard of it, but you are surely rare ones to find wondering the Northern Lands. You are far away from home, witcher."

"We normally act in Metina, Ebbing and Geso after the cat school in Stygga Fortress was destroyed, yes. South is richer in alchemy ingredients and it's mountains are easier to excavate for minerals due to good weather." - said Coen and stood up, not paying attention to the drunkards anymore. - "I will appreciate it, if you share your knowledge about the assignment, milady Merigold."

"Let's take it elsewhere. I prefer to stay incognito here."

They walked out of the inn and saw Lambert standing there with a scowl on his face.

"Merigold, the walking disaster of a woman." - he said poisonously. - "What brought you here, in the company of two witchers and a kid?"

"Ah, Lambert. Your words are as usual. Uncultured and lowly. Just like your face." - she said with a smile that barely hid her irritation. - "Sadly, I'm here not to admire a typical specimen of the uneducated vagrant drunkard, neither am I craving to enlarge my vocabulary of profane language."

"Can we stick to business?" - asked Coen with a sigh.

"You have a history with each other?" - asked Alan.

"No!" - both said with certainty. Alan narrowed his eyes and sighed expecting some headache.

Actually, there really was no hidden intrigue here. Nothing like 'love germinated from hate' or 'one night stand'. It was pure dislike with no additional feelings involved. They just didn't have a knack to get along, still it never will go to the point of open conflict... perhaps.

Because if it is, Lambert will be blown out of his boots with a bang.

"Triss, can you tell us about the contract?" - Alan asked and received a disarming smile in return that immediately replaced the scowl she showed to Lambert.

"Let's have a walk, to many ears here." - she started to head towards an alley, covered in trees. Witchers just shrugged and followed, same went for Alan, who kept thinking that it seems this contract will really make them bleed. - "Okay, this contract is by far not what it seems. Stated as an exploration, it is actually about an order in the name of King Foltest, directly from Hereward."

"Isn't Hereward a duke of Ellander? What in the rat's dung he is interested in here?" - Lambert asked with confusion.

"It is about the ruins. Obviously." - said Triss, receiving a glare. - "The legend says that there is an ancient artifact that can create armies of immortal beings to fight for it's controller."

"And what if it is true?" - asked Coen staring straight ahead of himself.

"Hard to say. Apparently there is something inside, but this place is just a death trap."

"Being there before?" - Alan grew curious.

"Naturally I tried. There is literally an army of necrophages. It is a very dangerous place, but artifact might exist." - Triss sat on the bench and Alan hopped on by her side, taking out some cookies with cinnamon and giving her a share.

"Wow! That is a great thing! How did you do this?" - Triss was really impressed by the taste.

"Tell you later." - he said nonchalantly as her eyes narrowed. Whether it was because of bliss about the dish or the fact that the boy gave her something like that.

"What stated in the contract?" - that question was directed at Alan.

"Investigation. Subjugation of any lethal threat if it is to be found."

"This smells like real piece of shit, the similar shit Geralt usually stumble upon." - said Lambert.

"Speaking of Geralt, do you know where he is?" - Triss momentarily shot a question as if she just seated there and waited for his name to pop up in any way.

Coen looked at her with no expression, contemplating something, while Lambert just scowled again with obvious answer. She looked at Alan with hope, to which he just shrugged. He actually wanted to see the living legend too.

Lambert sneered.

"Lambert, my patience has limits." - said Triss, while summoning a fireball to dance around her hand and looking at it with rapt attention.

"I wanted to say the same."

"The one who strikes first is the loser. You don't want to lose in patience to your opponent, no?" - immediately chipped in Alan hoping the trick will work.

"Nice try." - they said in unison, snickering at Alan's naive attempt to play them. Still the tension was gone.

"Truce? Until the end of a contract."

"Sure." - said Triss and gave the youth a smile.

"So, we are doing this." - said Coen.