Burning Blood (Part 1)

A week later. Rinde.

It was a battlefield. An actual war, fierce as a hungry wolf and deadly like a brown bear. But not a single soul outside noticed it.

Jaskier was fighting.

He stood in front of a building and experienced the collision between the rational mind, telling him not to go and poetic heart craving to try. Finally, he looked at the front, where a young witcher was standing with a gloomy look. Under the glance of strict lilac eyes, his little brother shivered albeit so lightly and gave up visiting a local brothel.

The rational mind won the battle, while his feet followed the youth almost on instinct.

"I know. I know." - said Jaskier after catching up with Alan. The latter didn't answer, only gave a glance at the back. - "But really, can I go for just one hour, no? No. Of course not. I understand. Tiny kids like you are yet to understand the magnificence of human close interactions, the poetic inspiration it can give and happiness one can feel."

Alan stared at the poet. It was a hard, exasperated stare of lilac eyes.

"And what about Susana? That naive girl of the local florist was loud just yesterday's night."

"That was then and now is now, Alan! The flow of life and the notion of the heart is unpredictable and thus beautiful! You can't stop on the road of true love, as it is a journey of bravery and constant search for one's soulmate!" - said Jaskier with great gusto. He looked impressed. With himself.

"And your best destination to find genuine love is a local brothel. What? You dropped it there by chance or something?" - smirked Alan while glancing at the back again.

"One shouldn't discriminate! Who knows what tender and hurt hearts maidens of such places have? There might be maidens with stories of forbidden love or a fallen noblewoman among the personnel there!"

Right at that moment, they passed near a very colorful example of said personnel. She stood by the road with a bored look, face full of makeup and such a short skirt, that her most private part was there for everyone to see. Well, one needs to have an x-ray vision to penetrate dense vegetation first.

Something might happen to the maiden, but she coughed after another exhale of tobacco. Loudly clearing her throat, tender maiden cursed to the weather in the coarse voice of an old hag and spit on the road the brown substance.

"Erm..." - Jaskier frowned squeamishly at the smile full of yellow and black teeth she gave him afterward. - "I might as well visit Susana today too."

"We are here to find a boat to Oxenfurt." - Alan moved through the streets of the town while the bard followed with a confident front.

"You are very boring, just like Geralt. Why can't you enjoy your time while on the road? We are here, by the way. That's the place." - Jaskier pointed at the inn in the middle of the street.

"You seem to know your way around."

"But of course! Don't you know that Geralt and Yennefer met each other here for the first time? Ah, back then both been through a lot, especially Geralt, but he was brave and loyal to me, his best friend, and never faltered." - said the poet. Meanwhile, the door to the inn opened, and an elf walked out. That surprised Alan, but he saw many non-humans on the way.

"A witcher? Again?" - suddenly growled the elf with a displeased face.

"Nice to meet you too." - said Alan evenly. Jaskier gave him a warning look and stepped forward.

"Sir, we are just travelers on the long road of life. It is an honor to meet a person of your stature and intelligence here. May we hope to have a room at your inn with an enjoyable dinner? As you see I am a poet and a traveling bard, Jaskier, at your service." - he bowed slightly with excellent manners. One must admit, Jaskier wasn't an uneducated man, on the contrary, his mind was sharp and knowledge broad. Well, for a man from medieval times.

"Wait... I know you! You are the reason that brought that white-haired witcher here back then? Do you know what he and his bitch did to my inn?" - the elf was even more displeased and the only reason he was still talking to the pair is his prudence. He earned more money when djinn decimated his inn. The owner properly made insurance for it and earned big.

"Don't worry, the owner! It won't happen again! We are all law-abiding citizens of the North! And I can give a concert to every person who craves for my art!" - Jaskier pounded his chest with a look of reassurance. The view was comical.

"Just get inside and don't ruin my inn." - said the elf and entered without further ado.

"Go, I have something to do." - said Alan.

"The three who are following us?" - whispered Jaskier. His awareness surprised Alan. One might think he is just a careless idiot, but actually, the bard survived every shit he got himself into, so it can't be so simple. He is a shrewd man, like any merchant dwarf. - "Alan, they don't look like ordinary people. You can just go and if they come after me, don't think too much. They might be people of a... khm... a friend of mine from Tretogor. So they won't harm me."

Alan just nodded and walked further down the street, while Jaskier entered the inn and from the very first step spouted bullshit left and right.

Stopping near a street stall with some local salted fish, Alan subtly looked back. Trio didn't even bother to separate. They followed him. Somehow they found a nearby house very picturesque, staring at it and discussing something. Who would have thought they are interested in a woman's clothing store so much?

'So Jaskier is of no importance to them. Hm... why are they after me? And with just three people. Aren't they overconfident?'

Alan was chewing the salted fish that tasted like rubber while trying to find an empty corner to have a proper chat with those spies.

Finally, he approached a remote valley, looked around as if he was up to nothing good here, and entered.

"Where is he?" - the trio didn't follow him immediately, they pretended to walk past the place while giving it several inquiring stares. Only after five minutes of wandering around the entrance to a dead-end of the street, one of them finally talked.

"Damn. How come we lost him? This place has no exit, only if he climbed to the roof." - said another and trio entered the valley as if obeying someone's order.

Alan stood there leaning against the wall right in front of them, but none can notice him. He covered himself with a special spell that helped alter memories and divert the attention of people around. In some sense he wasn't invisible, he escaped senses of people.

'They are not some ordinary thugs. They move seamlessly and accurately, with even breath per step. As warriors, they were exceptional. But who are they? Could they belong to the same group Coen noticed long ago in Maribor? Back then they didn't have the opportunity to take action.'

"Something is wrong, we need to report to the captain first. It can't be good." - one of them told others. Alan committed to memory how they addressed their leader. It reeks of military affiliation from far away.

He put a tracer on one of them and followed the trio across the street, still under the camouflage spell. It drained him seriously, especially if more people get affected by the spell. So while walking inside the crowd he changed it a bit to effect only three spies.

'They really know how to cover tracks.'

One man entered the unassuming building from the start, while another two bid him farewell with smiles and walked further. They separated later, going different ways. Second returned to the house after ten minutes, then after another five, the third did the same. He was carrying groceries in a thick cotton envelope.

Each of them knocked at the door differently. It seems like every person has a unique sequence.

Alan walked to the corner of the house and leaned over it, closing his eyes while enhancing his hearing. He entered special perception trance witchers usually used to track down monsters difficult to find with regular means.

'This house is not so deserted. Six people. Three that followed me, another two... one is very dangerous. I can barely sense him, furthermore, he is not a regular person, more like a strong mage. He smells like cinders. Also, a woman on the upper floor, but she seems to be unconscious. From the faint breath of hers, she is very weak. Could she be the original owner of the house?'

'They all walk nearly soundlessly, even inside the house. What a pain.'

"So, did you locate the target?" - asked a man in an even and almost polite voice.

"Sir, we lost him. But his companion is still here, should we act on him?"

"No need. I had a brief encounter with that bard. He was stubborn and lucky. However much I would like to rip his heart out and burn him alive, his excellency gave a strict order not to diverse from a plan. Our only target is that young witcher." - said the man and Alan frowned.

'Who are they? Wait, magic that smells like cinders... knows Jaskier to the point of talking to him... fuck, could it be him?'

This time Alan stumbled into something very dangerous.

And to top it off, on the territory of Redania, a country with zero tolerance to mages.