CHAPTER II (IORVETH)
CONTENTS
- TUTORIAL
- PROLOGUE
- chapter I
- CHAPTER II (IORVETH)
- Prelude to War: Aedirn
- The War Council
- Hunting Magic
- Subterranean Life
- Royal Blood: Stennis' Refusal
- Symbols of the Battle
- Death Symbolized
- Where is Triss Merigold: The Trolls
- Royal Blood: The Mob
- Where is Triss Merigold: Across the Mists
- A Matter of Life and Death
- The Eternal Battle
- Vergen Besieged
- Character Dialogue
- Overheard Dialogue
- Sidequests
[TITLE TEXT: Upper Aedirn in the Pontar Valley. Two days after leaving Flotsam.]
[The camera zooms out to reveal Saskia, the monk Olcan, Prince Stennis, and a convoy of dwarves.]
SASKIA: Three thousand men – burned to ashes in minutes.
STENNIS: I remember the stillness when the news reached Vengerberg. The palace, the streets, the houses. The entire capital cloaked in silence.
SASKIA: The cries were here, every last man. I was somewhere beyond that hill... In the middle of the massacre.
STENNIS: What is your intention, Saskia?
SASKIA: I intend to stop Aedirn from being sold.
STENNIS: We cannot afford a war with Henselt. We must parley...
SASKIA: Leave issues of war to me, Prince. Concentrate on King Henselt. Yarpen Zigrin claims he's short-tempered. Provoke him to strike and we'll negotiate once the battle's won.
STENNIS: I still cannot fathom why the nobles betrayed us...
SASKIA: Spit on the nobles, Prince. They've meant nothing since the day my peasant force scattered them on the Dyphne.
OLCAN: By the good deity Kreve, m'Lord! The girl is a demon incarnate!
STENNIS: Firstly, the girl has a name. Secondly, she's the best commander I have – all others have betrayed me.
OLCAN: But she's a monster! Kreve spoke to me in a dream! I saw a snake-like she-demon devour your heritage!
STENNIS: Silence, Olcan. We near the meeting place.
[The group makes their way through the ravines towards where the meeting is taking place. They pass groups of Kaedweni soldiers on the way.]
SOLDIER 1: Is that her?!
SOLDIER 2: I thought she'd be taller.
SOLDIER 3: Don't look like no virgin to me.
SOLDIER 1: The Aedirnian rebel!
SOLDIER 2: She looks right battle hardened, she does!
SOLDIER 3: Who's the one in the plate armor?
SOLDIER 1: The dragonslayer!
SOLDIER 2: She invited?
SOLDIER 3: No.
SOLDIER 2: This'll be interesting.
[Saskia's party approaches the meeting tent where the Aedirnian nobles are negotiating with Henselt.]
FELART: We shall sign everything, Your Majesty, as you...
HENSELT: We have guests...
HENSELT: Welcome, Stennis, son of Demavend. I invite you to join us.
STENNIS: Greetings, Henselt. You seem at home in Aedirn. You are here, yet I do not recall inviting you.
HENSELT: Felart did so in your stead. I'm here at his behest. I've broken no truces or treaties – yet.
STENNIS: Oh, is that so? Mister Broghan, please escort Count Felart to a secluded spot and remove his troublesome head.
FELART: Don't you dare, boy. You're no king! Your father...
STENNIS: My father is dead. The folk still mourn him, while you betray his good name and his country!
FELART: Your Majesty, I must request your protection. This young man has lost his mind!
STENNIS: Take him away.
FELART: Your Majesty! What of our agreement?!
HENSELT: I need you no longer, Felart, now Stennis is here.
[Two dwarves escort Felart away.]
STENNIS: Anyone else wish to object? Wonderful! To the matter at hand, then.
HENSELT: Well said. I will show you my hand. I've over 200 armed men encamped nearby - enough to hold the ford for several hours. Another 5000 battle-hungry lads await on the other bank. What say you to that?
STENNIS: They'll be 5000 dead lads should you move against Vergen.
HENSELT: Take time to consider, boy... These are border marches, a mere piece of land. Relinquish it to me and you'll keep your crown. Oppose me and I shall crush you without mercy. Give me Lormark and return to Vengerberg.
STENNIS: Do you know why there are no marquises in Aedirn? We've no marches to speak of, let alone to share. This is Upper Aedirn. My fatherland, my subjects.
HENSELT: A wolf pup should think twice before growling like a bear.
[Continues from "STENNIS: I'll not be intimidated, Henselt."]
STENNIS: This "piece of land" generates more revenue annually than all the forests of the great Kaedwen combined. Upper Aedirn is an ever-lasting pot of gold. Should I simply relinquish it? Or do you plan to make a purchase? Will you pay me with berries? Animal pelts? Will you send your armies into Kaedwen's woods to gather mushrooms?
HENSELT: You're right. Better I send them to steal your pot of gold.
STENNIS: I'll not be intimidated, Henselt.
HENSELT: Perhaps... Is it possible you merely play the courageous cockerel, yet deep inside fear eats at your heart? Is one push enough to send you over the edge? Or must I push twice?
STENNIS: Try me!
HENSELT: I tire of this discussion. I have the upper hand and no amount of scintillating talk will change that. We both know I'll not leave empty handed. What do you propose?
STENNIS: Withdraw your forces across the Pontar and for all time relinquish any claims to Upper Aedirn...
HENSELT: Whoa, hold there! I don't believe you understood my query. What will I get out of it?
STENNIS: Peace.
HENSELT: You mock me? You think this is a game? You just talked yourself into a war, ya little shit.
STENNIS: Don't threaten me! We came here to speak...
HENSELT: Enough of your prattle - draw your sword!
STENNIS: Saskia.
SASKIA: I'm ready. Care to dance, Your Majesty?
[A fight breaks out between the two sides.]
STENNIS: I shall reimburse the costs of this foray and add enough to restore the luster to your palace at Ard Carraigh. I'm certain our advisors can resolve the details.
HENSELT: That will take a great deal of gold...
STENNIS: Peace is priceless.
HENSELT: You want peace? Fight for it.
STENNIS: I'm not sure I understand.
HENSELT: You speak like a ruler, but words will only get you so far. You carry a sword, wear armor and talk like a warrior. Now prove you are one.
HENSELT: I challenge you to a duel. Here and now, before these folk and the gods. Upper Aedirn shall belong to the victor.
HENSELT: Ready?
STENNIS: Begin when you will, King.
HENSELT: Blood and honor!!!
[Henselt and Stennis meet in single combat.]
STENNIS: An old wound ails me still... I'm ill-prepared to fight.
HENSELT: You disappoint me.
SASKIA: I'm ready. Fight me, King. The same conditions apply.
HENSELT: 'Twould be a shame to cut up such a pretty face. As none here are worthy, we shall resolve the problems of Lormark, the Aedirnian crown and the rebellion in one fell swoop.
HENSELT: Grab them!
[The Kaedwenis attack.]
STENNIS: I shall give you Saskia the Dragonslayer.
SASKIA: What are you playing at, Prince?
STENNIS: Silence, Saskia. I'm about to spare the country a tragedy.
HENSELT: What would you have me do with her?
STENNIS: Your eyes've not strayed from her once since we arrived.
HENSELT: Aye... There's some spark in the lass.
SASKIA: I'll not allow it! This land is under my protection. If no one else has the courage to stand up to you, I will. Listen well, King. You have one hour to quit Upper Aedirn with your forces. If you fail to do so, it's war.
SASKIA: If but one Kaedweni soldier remains on this land one minute past the deadline, it's war.
SASKIA: You will instruct your heralds to proclaim around and about that you apologize to the people of Aedirn for this shameful incursion. Otherwise, it's war.
HENSELT: Ha–ha–ha! You've got balls, woman. My soldiers would call me a coward or a madman. I am Henselt of Ard Carraigh – I'll not run from a woman, even a dragonslayer. That apart, you're a pretty fetching lass...
HENSELT: I want this land, I want its gold, and I want you, Dragonslayer!
HENSELT: Grab them!!!
[A fight breaks out between the two sides.]
STENNIS: The crown and a non-aggression pact in exchange for Upper Aedirn... Are you ready to sign such a treaty?
HENSELT: At once. Make your decision. Are you from a family of rulers or cowards?
SASKIA: Prince, you're making a mistake...
STENNIS: Stay out of this, Saskia!
HENSELT: Well, well – she has a voice. Saskia the Dragonslayer. You're much prettier than they claim...
HENSELT: You'll need to throw in the lass, too. Peasants should work the fields, not rebel and burn down the estates of their masters. It's to your advantage to give her up.
[Continues from "SASKIA: I'll not allow it!"]
STENNIS: In attacking Aedirn, you would break the provisions of the Peace of Cintra. All the Northern Kingdoms will be obliged to support me.
HENSELT: None will stand with you.
STENNIS: Radovid of Redania, the dukes of the South...
HENSELT: You dream, boy. They're not to be counted on. And the treaty? I piss on it as do they. You are alone.
SASKIA: Not entirely.
STENNIS: Stay out of this, Saskia.
[Continues from "HENSELT: Well, well - she has a voice."]
KNIGHT: Opposing one another in a chivalrous duel shall be Henselt of Ard Carraigh, King of Kaedwen, Sovereign of Caingorn and Malleore, last of the line of the Unicorn...
KNIGHT: ...and Prince Stennis, son of King Demavend III of Aedirn, lawful heir to the Aedirnian throne! Gentlemen, begin!
HENSELT: Draw your sword!
[Whether in single combat or as an all-out clash, Henselt defeats Stennis. The priest approaches to try and intervene.]
OLCAN: Stop! Stop in the name of Kreve, Freya and Melitele!
[Henselt slaughters the priest on the obelisk overlooking the area. It begins to glow with an unearthly blue light. Meanwhile, Geralt, Dandelion, Zoltan approach a band of arguing dwarves.]
YARPEN: By the milk of Mother Creatrix's tits! Geralt of Rivia!!! And in the best company, to boot...
DANDELION: Yarpen Zigrin!
ZOLTAN: It's been years, you old prick! It's great to see you in good health.
YARPEN: Geralt – starin' as if you've seen a ghost! Muster up a hug for an old friend!
[Unlike Dandelion and Zoltan, Geralt does not embrace Yarpen.]
ZOLTAN: Geralt's head's not exactly on straight...
YARPEN: Hah! Meaning he truly did in Foltest?! Fine by me. Foltest was a ploughing niggard and a niggardly plougher. You did right, Geralt.
DANDELION: Not the point. Geralt's lost his memory.
GERALT: And I didn't kill Foltest.
YARPEN: Right, right - what's the difference? Someone did. But we've bigger problems now.
[Iorveth arrives with his elves.]
IORVETH: Where's Saskia?
YARPEN: Oh, aye. Why's this butcher here?
IORVETH: I've come with a hundred archers - the best in the world. We're here to aid your cause.
YARPEN: Well, you'll need to wait. Saskia and Prince Penis – ptooey – rather, Stennis, went off to parley with Henselt. Me and the boys are waitin', in case something goes wrong...
[The obelisk's unearthly glow becomes visible.]
YARPEN: The sun's gone dark... Call the sorceress!
IORVETH: Come, Geralt.
GERALT: Stay here.
[Back at the obelisk, Saskia rushes to pull Stennis up. Dethmold and Sheala create a portal and whisk Henselt away. Geralt and Iorveth arrive to Saskia's side - she looks past them, and they turn to see undead soldiers dragging themselves out of the earth.]
IORVETH: Saskia! Get Saskia! She must not die!
[Geralt, Iorveth, Saskia, and the dwarves clash with the wraiths. After a period of fighting, an owl flies overhead, and a bolt of golden light clears the field of wraiths. Saskia runs back to Stennis' side and hauls him up.]
IORVETH: An owl!
SASKIA: Philippa! She'll show us the way!
GERALT: Iorveth, you've got some explaining to do...
[Philippa casts a dome of golden light over them and they begin to descend down the hill.]
IORVETH: By Aelirenn's blood! Wraiths!
GERALT: Silver harms them. I'll cover you.
STENNIS: My deef! Hep me!
IORVETH: Shut up, dh'oine.
[As they continue, it becomes clear the wraiths are dead Aedirnian and Kaedweni soldiers, fighting each other in a vast battlefield. With Saskia supporting Stennis, Iorveth and Geralt take care of the wraiths that get through Philippa's shield.]
GERALT: The fog's thinning. Not far now.
[They finally emerge from the battlefield, where Yarpen meets them. The owl lands on his shoulder, then transforms into a woman.]
PHILIPPA: I hate flying through fog...
PHILIPPA: Saskia, are you all right?
SASKIA: It's just a flesh wound. You and the witcher – we owe you our lives.
PHILIPPA: I am here to protect you... And you, witcher?
GERALT: I'm after a kingslayer who kidnapped Triss Merigold.
PHILIPPA: And brought her here?
GERALT: Is this an interrogation?
PHILIPPA: There are warrants on your head in Temeria, Kaedwen and Redania. And I'm responsible for Saskia's safety...
SASKIA: That's enough, Philippa. You told me yourself you thought him innocent.
YARPEN: Saskia, folk are riled... First the sun went out, then the Squirrels arrived, now this fog... It's too much for the common folk.
SASKIA: True. Summon all the commanders to the meeting hall. Iorveth, give me some time. I must prepare them for your arrival. Witcher, Philippa - you must be there, too. I wish to hear what we can expect from this anomaly and how we might be rid of it.
SASKIA: Worry not, Yarpen. The legendary White Wolf and the equally famous Philippa Eilhart should have a remedy for several hundred rabid wraiths.
[Back in Vergen, they meet up with the alderman.]
SASKIA: I want to see all commanders in the council chamber. Philippa, that includes you and the witcher.
SASKIA: Cecil, the gates are to remain shut until we're done. You'll answer with your beard if they open for any reason.
[Saskia heads into the Castle of the Three Fathers, where the war council is set to take place, leaving Geralt with Cecil and Cecil's nephew Skalen Burdon.]
CECIL: Welcome to Vergen, witcher. I'm Cecil Burdon, the alderman.
GERALT: Geralt of Rivia.
CECIL: We've got a spare room at the inn... It's not much, but at least you'll have a roof over your head and a solid bed 'neath your arse.
GERALT: Thanks, I could use that.
CECIL: Skalen, show master Geralt to his quarters, and visit Reverend Olcan's chambers on your way back to inform everyone that uh... he has departed.
SKALEN: That is, that he died a hero, slain by the invaders...
CECIL: Exactly. You see, master witcher? He's young but clever. We'll make a real dwarf out of him yet!
[Skalen shows Geralt to his quarters.]
SKALEN: This shall be your chamber, witcher. They say Seltkirk of Gulet himself slept in this bed before battle... Didn't bring him any luck, but at least he was well rested before he died. Need anything else?
GERALT: Thanks, Skalen.
[Geralt heads to the war council. Around the circular table are Saskia, Philippa, Yarpen, Zoltan, Cecil Burden, Stennis, a human peasant named Kalten, and a handful of human nobles.]
SASKIA: You missed quite a scrap, gentlemen. And an opportunity to slay a monarch.
SASKIA: The prince dueled Henselt. They fought as equals...
KALTEN: Impossible!
SASKIA: And yet it was so.
SASKIA: There was a struggle and the prince was wounded...
PHILIPPA: You've all seen the magical phenomenon covering the battlefield. For any who still have doubts, this is no mundane mist, nor a petty fairground illusion. Most likely we are up against a blood curse, an old and powerful spell.
PHILIPPA: We do not know who cast it or why. For now I have one piece of good news and several pieces of bad news. The good news is that Henselt and his army have been halted for the time being.
KALTEN: And the bad news?
PHILIPPA: The mist will grow – it may even engulf Vergen. Furthermore, wraiths may emerge from it.
YARPEN: Can they be made penitent? With an axe to the head?
GERALT: In theory, yes, but I would suggest putting your faith in a silver weapon. Furthermore, the ghosts will weaken as they move away from the mist.
YARPEN: Is there any way to drive it off? Exor-i-cise it?
PHILIPPA: A question for myself and Geralt of Rivia...
KALTEN: The kingslayer?
PHILIPPA: Contrary to what old women at the wells say, he did not, in fact, slay any kings.
YARPEN: Course he didn't. Wouldn't hurt a fly, that one. Look in his eyes - you'll see he's the sensitive kind.
PHILIPPA: Whatever you may see in his eyes, few know more about lifting curses. Gentlemen, I do not require you to understand this phenomenon, but there are a few rules I insist you must follow...
ZOLTAN: Here we go.
PHILIPPA: No one is to approach the mist. It is mortally dangerous. In addition, we need to learn the story of the battle. For this I especially count on the aid of Mr. Cecil Burdon.
CECIL: At your service, m'Lady.
PHILIPPA: Thank you. To lift the curse, we require some objects symbolic of the war. Ones belonging to those who perished here three years past.
YARPEN: Pfff! More scrap iron from that massacre lying about than lice in Cecil's beard. I thought curses were best handled with...
PHILIPPA: Please leave the thinking to me, Mister Zigrin. And I'd gladly hear less from you from now on. The objects must be magically active and strictly linked to the ghosts of the fallen. That is all.
SASKIA: Let me be clear - you're all to aid Philippa and the witcher. What are you grumbling about now, Yarpen?
YARPEN: Ah-hrgh... Somethin' in my gullet..
SASKIA: Take a swig of wine. Now, to worldly matters. How many are we?
YARPEN: Saskia, you know well...
SASKIA: How many?
YARPEN: We dwarves are near two hundred. But don't judge us by our number.
KALTEN: A half-thousand peasants will come, though you'll get no precise count.
SASKIA: Milords?
NOBLE 1: Fifty-three knights and another two hundred armed men. Not enough...
SASKIA: Henselt leads five thousand. Five to one against us. What think you of that?
NOBLE 1: We are few, they are many... But we have our walls, low though they be... If we had archers, who knows...
YARPEN: Oh, for a regiment of heavy arbalists from Lyria...
SASKIA: We have something better. Iorveth's elves. Scoia'tael.
[Iorveth enters the council room and comes to stand at Saskia's right hand, arms folded. Everyone at the table stands up, alarmed.]
SASKIA: Gentlemen, I give you Iorveth.
KALTEN: What do you seek here, murderer?!
IORVETH: A hundred of the North's best archers await your orders, Dragonslayer.
ZOLTAN: You wished for archers - here they are.
YARPEN: I take no pleasure in fraternizing with elves, but even a shit-coated stick can be a weapon.
NOBLE 2: He burned down the villages of many in my hoard.
STENNIS: The free peasantry is one thing, but a criminal with a price on his head in all the northern realms...? This is too much.
IORVETH: Saskia, say the word and we'll depart.
SASKIA: Hear me out. Iorveth came to fight for me. I trust him and I know that he'll stay the course. Just like each of you.
KALTEN: How could you know that? He's an elf! Treason runs in his veins...
NOBLE 1: He's been fighting humans for a century!
SASKIA: But for the first time in scores of years his fight makes sense. The Scoia'tael know no peace, they've died for Nilfgaard, for the Valley of the Flowers – in vain. They've been betrayed and cheated. Now they have a new goal. The Pontar Valley could be the first state where no man would have to fear elven arrows when venturing beyond city walls, and elves and dwarves wouldn't live in ghettos or on reservations.
SASKIA: First, however, we have a battle to win. You know who we're up against. It's a splendid army, brave and well led. They cannot be scared off or routed. They have to be killed. I want Iorveth to sit at the same table as we do. I want him to kill Kaedweni for us. And I assure you that he'll do so with a smile, if only you let him.
YARPEN: If I'm to see a smile on that skinny face... I'm in. Iorveth stays.
KALTEN: Bloody hell! Father's turning in his grave, but a must's a must. I say aye.
STENNIS: Nay.
NOBLE 3: You killed my men, elf. Remember them?
IORVETH: If I hadn't killed them, they'd have killed me.
NOBLE 3: All right, for the sake of better times and for Kaedwen's doom! Aye!
ZOLTAN: Down with the sons of bitches! Cheers!
[Saskia lifts her cup in toast, as do the other mebers of the council. She takes a sip, sets her cup down. It glows a poisonous green. Saskia collapses, and both Iorveth and Philippa rush to her side.]
PHILIPPA: Poison! She's dying...
PHILIPPA: Take her somewhere safe and guard her with your lives. I'll gather what I need and join you soon.
IORVETH: I'll place my best warriors on watch.
YARPEN: Quickly, lads! A litter!
[Iorveth and Geralt wait outside Philippa's quarters. Cecil waits with them, pacing.]
IORVETH: She's ceased casting spells.
CECIL: Went hoarse at the end there.
[Philippa emerges.]
GERALT: Saskia. Is she alive?
PHILIPPA: In a manner of speaking. I've slowed her life functions as far as possible. Her condition is stable.
IORVETH: Do you know the poison?
PHILIPPA: Thaumador. Commonly known as magepain. It has a terrible reputation...
IORVETH: An antidote must exist.
GERALT: What can we do?
PHILIPPA: Treatment will require herbs, magic... and blood.
GERALT: Not ordinary blood, I presume.
PHILIPPA: Correct. We require royal blood.
IORVETH: We could use Letho right now.
GERALT: The nearest king is on the other side of the mist of wraiths.
PHILIPPA: You misunderstood me. It need not be the blood of a ruling monarch. It is the genotype contained in royal blood that is required. Kings issue from ancient dynasties. Over the ages, to survive, rulers needed exceptional resistance and strength. As royal dynasties rarely admit common blood, the strength of their genes remains great.
PHILIPPA: I shall employ self-healing, genetic therapy that will "teach" Saskia's body how to rid itself of the poison.
IORVETH: You'll have her drink human blood?
PHILIPPA: No, I shall inject it directly into her heart.
GERALT: What kind of herbs are we talking about?
PHILIPPA: I'll need a subterranean variety of purple foxglove - known to the dwarves as the immortelle. And an elven rose of remembrance.
GERALT: Hmm... Triss had a rose of remembrance. She claimed the flowers are exceptional.
PHILIPPA: Long ago, the Aen Seidhe who succeeded in cultivating the roses enjoyed great respect.
IORVETH: Times have changed...
PHILIPPA: As have elves...
IORVETH: There are no elven gardens nearby. We must return to Flotsam.
GERALT: Triss has a rose of remembrance from Flotsam. It's her we need to find.
GERALT: Where will we find immortelles?
PHILIPPA: They grow deep beneath the earth, which should not be a problem as Vergen lies on top of a mine.
IORVETH: How will they help Saskia?
PHILIPPA: Magepain wreaks havoc in internal tissues. The immortelle will help restore them.
GERALT: What else do you need to heal Saskia?
PHILIPPA: Thaumador is a self-perpetuating substance. Any incursion into a cluster of poisoned cells causes an immediate chain reaction. Each tainted cell that is removed is replaced by ten new tainted cells.
PHILIPPA: To interrupt this reaction, I'll need an ungodly amount of the Power. A water or air genie or one of the twenty legendary Rings of Power would be best...
IORVETH: One to bring them all and in the darkness bind them...
GERALT: Right, and then I'll have to run bare-footed to the top of a volcano.
PHILIPPA: All right, all right... Let's forget the rings. I need a vast quantity of the Power, no matter the source. Find something.
GERALT: An immortelle, a rose of remembrance, royal blood and magic. Sounds like a fairytale.
IORVETH: A poor one at that. No prince's kiss to top things off.
PHILIPPA: I wish it were a fairytale, especially a poor one, as a happy ending would then be inevitable. May I count on your help, Geralt?
GERALT: You may. What about the battle of wraiths?
PHILIPPA: I must first see if the spells keeping Saskia alive are in order. Then we'll consider how best to send the specters to their rest. Actually you could tend to that yourself... Ask the locals about the battle, maybe you'll learn something.
IORVETH: In that case, I shall search for the poisoner.
[As Geralt leaves Philippa's doorstep, outside the gates to Rhundurin Square, Cecil is making an announcement.]
CECIL: People of Vergen! We have a magical mist full of ghosts just outside our walls, so ye'd better think twice before entering it!
CECIL: The mist, may the plague take it, threatens all manner of creatures, so anyone headed to the quarries or walking through the gullies should take exceptional heed!
CECIL: The Squirrels that have made camp by the burnt huts are not our enemies – so says Saskia and so it is!
CECIL: Master Geralt of Rivia and sorceress Philippa Eilhart will deal with the mist and the wraiths! And now open the gates and get to work!
[Geralt goes to knock on Philippa's door, but pauses when he hears moaning from inside. He opens the door anyways to find Philippa sitting on her bed, receiving a shoulder massage from a woman.]
PHILIPPA: What is it, witcher?
GERALT: Who was that girl?
PHILIPPA: Cynthia. A leashed sorceress.
GERALT: A charming expression. Do you also use muzzles?
PHILIPPA: "Leash" means a connection between a sorceress and her assistant. An unfortunate term, I admit, but it explains how things are. Cynthia can tap my power, use my spells - she's a conduit. And she's learning along the way.
PHILIPPA: It's convenient and, except for the name, not derisive at all. But you're not here to talk about Cynthia.
GERALT: You said we'd need a magical object to cure Saskia. Any ideas where I might start looking?
PHILIPPA: Magical items do not grow on trees, as you know. Luckily, this area has a long history. There's the battle of wraiths, the site of Sabrina Glevissig's death and suffering, the abandoned mines...
GERALT: I was hoping you'd be specific.
PHILIPPA: I won't ask you to traipse around with a divining rod. But please try to be a little inventive. Ask the locals - that's always a good place to start. I daresay Alderman Burdon knows every last stone in the area. Maybe you should see him?
[Geralt goes to talk to the locals: Skalen, the innkeeper, and Cecil.]
GERALT: I'm looking for places near Vergen where magic would be strong. Somewhere a sorcerer might have stayed?
SKALEN: Lemme think. Verfran, a summoner of elementals, once lived in the wood beyond Vergen. They say his creatures excavated the entire southern wall. You could also search the nearby ruins and abandoned crypts. If boulders with arms and legs aren't magic, then I don't know what is.
GERALT: I'm looking for places steeped in magic. You remember any stories of sorcerers or magical places in the area?
INNKEEPER: Not counting the fire-spitting bitch from three years ago? Well, a sorcerer once lived in the wood beyond Vergen. You could look there, maybe something's left. You might also speak to Cecil – nobody knows Vergen's history as well as our alderman.
GERALT: Saskia needs help, Cecil. Philippa can produce an antidote, but she needs a magic artifact to do that.
CECIL: Would she like a fern and a dancing worm to go with it? Listen, I don't know about magic, but there is a place... As long as I can remember, it's been of interest to sorcerers. They say it's a very strong Intersection. Look for magic there.
GERALT: Where exactly is "there"?
CECIL: Seek out the ruins in the forest beyond Vergen. There's a Place of Power there, you can't miss it. Why so glum? Saskia's a tough girl, she'll bounce back. Keep your head up.
GERALT: Thanks, Cecil.
CECIL: No, witcher, I thank you. Save that lass and you'll save my town.
[As Geralt leaves Vergen to investigate Cecil's ruin, he overhears some dwarves talking.]
DWARF 1: Let's go drink, friends! I'm goin' to get as drunk as a lord!
DWARF 2: Why's that?
DWARF 1: They stole it! The ploughing birds stole it! My dream is gone!
DWARF 3: Then what's the grin for?
DWARF 1: Night after night I dreamed of my dead wife. For years! Let's go for some liquor! Drinks on me!
[Geralt comes to the water north of Vergen, where he's met by a party of Scoia'tael.]
DWARF: Ah, you've finally given in, started killing humans, eh witcher?
GERALT: Started that a while ago, actually. It just wasn't something society was willing to acknowledge.
DWARF: Foltest's death - society acknowledged that. You know there's a price on your head?
GERALT: Yeah, I know. Too low for the risks involved, though.
DWARF: It's a bundle to us, witcher. We have to pay for everything - weapons, food, information...
GERALT: Iorveth send you?
DWARF: Iorveth will never learn of this.
[Geralt kills the rogue Scoia'tael, and heads further north towards the tower Cecil mentioned. At the tower, inside a harpy nest, he finds a magical crystal, which he brings back to Philippa.]
GERALT: I found one of the ingredients for Saskia's cure.
PHILIPPA: Show me.
PHILIPPA: Interesting. Getting warmer, but still not there. It's as if I'd sent you to get me the sun and you'd brought me a candle. We need something massive, an item of real power, Geralt. This is a dwarf's dream. Stolen and magically encased in this crystal. It would do if it were stronger.
GERALT: You know what this means? In addition to normal harpies, there are celaeno in the area.
PHILIPPA: Celaeno?
GERALT: Dream snatchers... The only harpy species to develop something resembling intelligence. They magically bind dreams to mountain crystals. I heard they once inhabited this area. Celaeno live among regular harpies, but their lair should be full of stolen dreams. One of those would be powerful enough, I'm sure.
PHILIPPA: You'd have to enter the harpy lair through the quarry. Unfortunately, the gate to the caves is locked and Cecil Burdon won't open it. I asked him on another occasion. Stubborn as a mule, that one. But we must not relent. Saskia clings to life by a thread. Let me show you the desire contained in this particular dream. Don't be hasty to judge.
GERALT: Hmm. Yes, I can feel it... Whose dream is it?
PHILIPPA: Cecil Burdon's.
GERALT: In that case I need to see the alderman. Got a feeling he just might open the gate for me.
[Geralt goes to Cecil.]
GERALT: I need to get inside the harpy lair.
CECIL: No chance.
GERALT: I know all about the harpies. They steal dreams, collect them. I found one, but it proved too weak for our purposes. I need a stronger one. So I'm asking you nicely, open the damn gate.
CECIL: Listen, witcher. I want Saskia to recover, I do. But don't ask me to turn this town into a circus just before we battle Henselt. My grandfather locked that gate for a good reason. Imagine if we could all go in there to look at those dreams. Dwarves, peasants, the Scoia'tael, Aedirnian nobles, even. All seeing the desires of others. Terrifying. It would be the end of Vergen.
CECIL: What's more, legend has it the oldest stolen dreams can become reality. And I don't want nightmares stalking Vergen's back alleyways come nightfall.
GERALT: Open it. I'll make it quick.
CECIL: Stop pissing me off. You're acting like a drunk suitor. No means no.
GERALT: You know, don't know if I should mention this, but the dream I found belongs to you.
CECIL: What are you talking about?
GERALT: It's an embarrassing affliction, I imagine. Hell, even something of a political liability in your case. Some might even call you a freak. You're the alderman, an ages-old tradition is vested in you. On top of that, you now lead the preparations for Vergen's defense.
CECIL: You wouldn't dare.
GERALT: Imagine your ancestors carved in stone, condemnation, not pride, on their bearded faces. Who knows, maybe you'd keep your office, but you'd be the talk of the town for ages. And your nephew? Poor kid.
CECIL: I'll open the gate.
CECIL: I promised Skalen's mother I'd be sober as a judge to the end of my days. And I aim to keep my word. I don't give a damn about ages-old traditions and piss on loose talk. But you're right, I cannot compromise Vergen's morale. You must bury this thing. The secret dies with you, never to be spoken aloud. Understand?
GERALT: I do. Thanks, Cecil. And good luck staying sober.
[Geralt goes to the old quarry and, fighting harpies as he goes, enters the lair. Along the way, he picks up several crystals. At the end, Geralt encounters a large circular monument with a space in the center. As he watches, a harpy flies up and places a purple crystal in the center notch, and the contents of the dream are shown.]
[In the dream, Letho hands Demavend's head to Auckes.]
LETHO: The head of a king. Take it to Síle, you know where. She'll give you coin and further orders.
AUCKES: Heavy. How am I supposed to carry it through the forest? I won't be able to draw my sword.
LETHO: You'll go unarmed, in common clothes. Try to sneak through unnoticed, but if anyone asks - you're bringing the witch some sausages.
AUCKES: You can see it a mile away! And it stinks of vinegar! I have to find a thick sack.
LETHO: Go on, quit complaining. There's no time.
[Geralt puts the other crystals in the viewer to look at.]
[The silver crystal shows a dwarf running away from something, trying to reach a door.]
BALTIMORE: ...by the gods, they're closer and closer... They'll not catch me... To the workshop... They'll not find it there... Over my dead body, whoresons! Ye'll never fathom Master Baltimore's secrets! It's not far now...
[The blue crystal shows Iorveth contentedly smoking a pipe while sitting at a table piled with food, while a pig roasts in the nearby fireplace. No one else appears to be in the room.]
IORVETH: Esseat'h maonne! Tall aeste imn pae'donne. Iluren, meth ilurien! Feredain oel daommas!
[The green crystal shows Saskia laying back on a pallet and stretching.]
PEASANT: You're as beautiful as an elf, m'Lady.
SASKIA: Come to me, my hero. Let's fuck in the barn.
PEASANT: Ah, the luck. To think I wanted to play dice with the others...
SASKIA: Call them, too. It'll be lovely.
[The red crystal shows a view from high above; the edge of a huge wing can be seen. The dragon turns its head and looks down to reveal a castle wall with three tiny figures on it - as it flies closer, it becomes clear the figures are Geralt, Roche, and Foltest at the castle of the La Valettes, just before Geralt and Foltest made it to the solar.]
[Geralt brings the dragon's dream back to Philippa.]
GERALT: I found a stolen dream. It seems powerful. I think it's a dragon's dream.
PHILIPPA: Excellent! That should do nicely. Come back and see me when you have the remaining ingredients.
GERALT: I found something else in the harpy lair.
PHILIPPA: What?
GERALT: It looked to me like the kingslayer's dream.
PHILIPPA: And what did you see?
GERALT: Foltest's killer... He mentioned Demavend's death... And Síle.
PHILIPPA: Síle de Tansarville?
GERALT: It looks like your colleague knows a lot more than she's prepared to admit.
PHILIPPA: A dream proves nothing, though we also cannot dismiss it. You must be careful if you run into Síle. She's a powerful sorceress. But without specific, material evidence, I can accuse her of nothing.
[In search of information about immortelles, Geralt finds Zoltan, Cecil, Yarpen, Sheldon Skaggs, and Dandelion around a table at the inn.]
YARPEN: Geralt, sit down! We haven't yet celebrated your raid into the mist!
YARPEN: Ah, sorry, sorry, where are my manners... Sheldon Skaggs, veteran of the battles of Sodden and Brenna...
SHELDON: ...And all inns along the way!
ZOLTAN: You've already met Vergen's elder.
CECIL: Greetings.
DANDELION: Gentlemen! Not sure about you, but my throat's parched from all these greetings.
GERALT: Funny - those were the first words out of your mouth.
SHELDON: Master Dandelion's right! A round for everyone – on me!
GERALT: I'll gladly wash the road's dust from my throat. Especially in such good company.
YARPEN: Ah, too bad Caleb Stratton's not here. May he rest in peace.
DANDELION: A worthy dwarf he was. Here's to him.
ZOLTAN: Sheldon, you're lagging behind.
SHELDON: I've got a little screw coming tonight.
YARPEN: More reason to drink! Makes you more vigorous.
SHELDON: My prick withers like an old crone's tits if I drink.
ZOLTAN: Then tie a carrot to it.
CECIL: So, what brings you here, Geralt?
GERALT: I'd gladly drink, but Saskia was poisoned and time is of the essence.
ZOLTAN: How can we help? Speak!
GERALT: Have you ever heard of a plant called the dwarven immortelle?
SHELDON: Have we? Do pigs have tight arses?
ZOLTAN: To tell the truth, I've no idea, Skaggs.
SHELDON: It's just a saying.
YARPEN: You're the only one using it.
SHELDON: Witcher, the immortelle... it appears most often near anthracite and aluminosilicate deposits.
GERALT: Philippa needs it to heal Saskia.
SHELDON: A rare curio, but there's a mine nearby and who knows... You might find it deep underground.
GERALT: Ever heard of a unit called the Dun Banner? Apparently they left their standard behind during the last war. I need to find it if I'm to lift the curse.
CECIL: Aye, the standard lies in a crypt with the those of the unit who perished here.
GERALT: Where's this crypt?
CECIL: Not the easiest place to find... Turn right past the market and look for a passage carved right through the rocks. That'll lead you to a valley filled with tombs and crypts.
DANDELION: To the fallen!
GERALT: Why are you dwarves fighting for Saskia?
YARPEN: If I had a knack for business, I'd be sitting on my arse in my own inn, not giving a shit for this war. But what's my trade? Axe-swinging, that's what. And if I could get killed, I'd rather know what I'm risking my neck for.
SHELDON: The woman's cuckoo. Ready to spit in the emperor's face, even. But I have to admit, she knows all about warcraft and, dammit, she's right. Free Vergen, no matter if you're a dwarf, man or mangy elf.
ZOLTAN: Do you hear him, Zigrin? Down on the elves already, but I bet he wouldn't sniff at thirty additional archers in battle.
GERALT: Is the mine far?
SHELDON: Not at all! It's in Vergen itself, in the town's upper quarter.
CECIL: You're eager for this expedition, but nobody told the witcher that the mine's closed!
SHELDON: Closed, that's true, but it's long overdue a cleaning. Weed out all the underground shit!
GERALT: What are you talking about?
CECIL: Not a month ago, miners started disappearing. Must've tapped the wrong vein and woken some scum from the deep. We wanted to send a crew of stout fellows in, but Saskia said she needs all the soldiers she can find up top and ready to defend the town. We closed the shaft, fearing the filth would emerge and overrun us all.
ZOLTAN: Looks like we arrived just in time, eh Geralt?
GERALT: So it seems. Let's go.
YARPEN: Right on! With this crew, we needn't fear any monster! How about you, Sheldon? Coming with us, or staying around to get your fuck?
SHELDON: Another chance like this won't come around in a hurry. Fucking can wait - I'm with you!
GERALT: Let's meet at the mine's entrance.
[Geralt meets the four dwarves at the mine's entrance.]
CECIL: The witcher's on board, we can go.
GERALT: I'm not ready to go in yet. I'll be back soon.
ZOLTAN: Hurry 'fore we start crapping to kill the time.
GERALT: Let's get to work, my bearded friends.
CECIL: Open the shaft, Skaggs.
CECIL: If you kill off those monsters, the whole of Vergen will be grateful. I'm sure some coin would be found.
ZOLTAN: We'll keep that in mind, Cecil.
YARPEN: So, Sheldon? You opened the shaft yet?
SHELDON: Keep your pricks in your trousers, you can't just plough forward all the time. A mine is like a lover, you need to be gentle, so she accepts you moist and hot.
YARPEN: You and your musings, Sheldon.
[Geralt and the dwarves enter the mine. Just inside the first door lies a dwarf's corpse.]
ZOLTAN: Poor son of a bitch... He almost got away.
YARPEN: I think I heard something.
GERALT: Yeah, they're close.
[Inside the next door is a pack of rotfiends, which Geralt and the dwarves defeat.]
SHELDON: Damned carrion. That was close...
ZOLTAN: What was that?
GERALT: Necrophages. With this many appearing, they must have a nest nearby.
YARPEN: Come on, show yourselves, I'll let you taste my axe...
SHELDON: Ooh, you're makin' them shit bricks.
YARPEN: Even then they'd stink less than you.
[Geralt and the dwarves continue through the mines, fighting rotfiends. As they go, Geralt collapses the rotfiends' tunnels with grapeshot bombs for Cecil.]
ZOLTAN: The miners tried to collapse this passage. I wonder what's down below?
YARPEN: Maybe some shit–filled necrophage cesspit?
SHELDON: Or they hide the corpses they drag in down there.
GERALT: Hey! Gentlemen, let's focus on finding a dwarven immortelle, please.
[As they approach the final passageway, Geralt's medallion vibrates. A bullvore is guarding the patch of immortelle.]
GERALT: Heads up, they approach.
[Geralt and the dwarves defeat the bullvore.]
YARPEN: Seems it was the last one.
ZOLTAN: Let's grab what we need and get out of here.
[Geralt picks the immortelle, and they leave the mine.]
ZOLTAN: Right, Geralt, looks like it's all over.
GERALT: Thanks for your help, Zoltan.
ZOLTAN: Say nothing of it.
YARPEN: Enough yapping, time for some vodka!
SHELDON: First, I want to see if my fuck date's still waiting.
YARPEN: Just don't strain yourself. It takes energy to drink with us, too, you know.
[Geralt can also talk to Cecil if he collapsed all the necrophage tunnels, finishing the sidequest "Hey, Work's in the Mines."]
GERALT: We killed most of the necrophages.
CECIL: Most?
GERALT: The passage to the lower level collapsed. They won't get out. In time, they'll die off and you can restart work.
CECIL: Thank you, witcher, the whole of Vergen thanks you. Here's your coin. Chivay, Skaggs and Zigrin will get the same.
[Geralt returns to Philippa with the herb.]
GERALT: I've found an immortelle.
PHILIPPA: Excellent.
[Geralt goes to talk to Stennis about getting some blood.]
STENNIS: Pray tell, what compels you to disturb the Prince of Aedirn, witcher?
GERALT: I have a few questions.
STENNIS: And you believe I should answer them instead of setting my dogs on you?
GERALT: I think Your Royal Highness has enough foes. Here, abroad, in Vengerberg.
STENNIS: The intricacies of succession are not something I wish to discuss with an itinerant monster slayer.
GERALT: Succession is the topic of choice in about every inn in the country. I don't know for sure, but I think the hangman of Vengerberg was the last to claim the throne.
STENNIS: My patience has its limits and, at present, only my respect for Lady Saskia restrains my anger. Come to the point or leave me be.
GERALT: Saskia's body is extremely resilient. She'll recover soon.
STENNIS: I heard the poison was deadly. How could the girl survive so long?
GERALT: Toxins can lose their potency, and this is hardly the first time Saskia's demonstrated an iron will. Besides, magic might be at play.
STENNIS: Magic?
GERALT: I'll explain once I've confirmed it.
GERALT: Don't change the subject, Prince.
GERALT: Then tell me what you're doing so far away from the capital. Why aren't you in Vengerberg being crowned?
STENNIS: Well sadly, my position is not strong there. My father emboldened the nobles. The great families have decided, in this hour so critical for the realm, to revolt.
GERALT: Your title to the throne is indisputable.
STENNIS: Aedirn has become a lawless land ruled by those who wield might, by those whom people follow. I intend to show just how worthy I am of the crown and thus claim what's mine.
GERALT: By returning to Vengerberg a hero. There should be no shortage of opportunities here.
STENNIS: I don't like your tone, witcher.
GERALT: Tell me, why are you here and not in the capital?
GERALT: And your opponents are seizing the opportunity.
STENNIS: The Umraut family, in addition to being wealthy and influential, is closely related to the royal line. They could halt my coronation and put forward their own candidate. The families that remain undecided are the key - they must back me. They will do so only once I've shown myself to be a strong candidate. And greatness is something I can achieve only here, at the center of events.
GERALT: And in the process, steal a little fame from the Dragonslayer of Vergen.
GERALT: You might be surprised, Prince, but I have more political experience than I'd like.
STENNIS: The famous Geralt of Rivia! Invited to the table by Calanthe, Foltest's little favorite. I've heard you've even parleyed with the emperor of Nilfgaard. Think I'm impressed?
STENNIS: Calanthe is dead. Meve curses your name when she hears it. Foltest was murdered before your very eyes. And the emperor? As I heard it, he thought you insignificant.
GERALT: Are you going somewhere with this?
STENNIS: Indeed. You should know that a king sometimes needs a hired thug to take care of dirtier deeds. If the thug is naive enough, instead of reaching into his purse, the king buys him with virtuous words, the flash of his rings, pledges of friendship. And when, having done his deed, the thug departs, swaggering proudly like a peacock, the king discreetly giggles. Truly, I never thought you could be so pitiful.
GERALT: I need royal blood.
STENNIS: As you know, I've yet to be crowned.
GERALT: But blood of your royal ancestors flows through your veins.
STENNIS: True, but that doesn't mean I'll shed a drop for some vagabond. Are you a witcher or a vampire?
GERALT: I need it to save Saskia.
STENNIS: I need it to live. Don't bother me with such audacious proposals.
[Geralt begins gathering information about the symbolic magical artifacts necessary to deal with the curse, starting with Philippa.]
PHILIPPA: You wanted to discuss something?
GERALT: At the council you mentioned artifacts were needed to undo the curse.
PHILIPPA: Mm. But I can't look for them now.
GERALT: I can do that.
PHILIPPA: Why?
GERALT: I have my reasons. Tell me something...
GERALT: What happened here three years ago?
PHILIPPA: Henselt attacked Aedirn, but met his match. Nobody won that war. Sabrina Glevissig got into a conflict with the commander-in-chief of the Kaedweni forces and this led to both armies being routed. Fireballs turned the battlefield into a flaming tomb. Henselt accused Sabrina of using a forbidden weapon.
GERALT: And Sabrina cursed Henselt?
PHILIPPA: I think so. I suspect the curse got out of hand because of the circumstances.
GERALT: Circumstances? The stars weren't right, wrong phase of the moon? There's always an excuse for simple bungling...
PHILIPPA: She placed the curse while burning at the stake, her hands and feet nailed to a wagon wheel. I'd say she did a good job, considering.
GERALT: Did you notice? Not all the ghosts were aggressive.
PHILIPPA: Yes... Most just disappeared when they touched the aura of a living person.
GERALT: I think the curse corrupts the ghosts of the fallen and turns them into draugirs.
PHILIPPA: Is that the witchers' professional name for wraiths?
GERALT: Draugirs are demons of war. They arise at sites of exceptionally vicious, bloody battles. They're bloodlust and hatred in condensed form.
PHILIPPA: Can you kill them by conventional means?
GERALT: A silver sword is enough for a draugir. But as long as the curse remains active, new ones will arise. The soldiers' ghosts are the key. If I could turn the tide of the battle...
PHILIPPA: For that you'll need symbols of war belonging to those who fell in battle. Hatred, death, courage, and faith - all artifacts must be magically active and connected to the fallen or they won't lure the ghosts.
GERALT: Right, I'll look around.
PHILIPPA: Finding two will be enough. Get the symbols of hatred and death and leave the rest to me.
GERALT: I'd prefer courage and faith...
PHILIPPA: Don't fuss.
GERALT: I'll see what I can do. Cecil seems to know a lot about the area...
GERALT: I know who has the symbol of hatred.
PHILIPPA: Yes...?
GERALT: Saskia has the sword of 'The Visitor' - Vandergrift, the worst son of a bitch to ever come out of the Kaedweni wilderness.
PHILIPPA: Perfect. I'm sure she'll give you her favorite toy... As soon as she's cured.
GERALT: Know anything about blood curses?
PHILIPPA: Do you?
GERALT: We're dealing with a fourth level curse, also known as "The Curse of the Arch Mistress."
PHILIPPA: Well, well... I'm impressed.
GERALT: Thing is, until now I thought it was only a myth, that such a curse couldn't be cast.
PHILIPPA: You thought wrong. There are six confirmed cases of this curse being inflicted.
GERALT: What about confirmed cases of it being lifted?
PHILIPPA: One. Achieved by a team of sorcerers led by Arch Mistress Francesca Findabair - hence the curse's other name. Sabrina Glevissig was on the team...
GERALT: Small world.
PHILIPPA: That's not all. The curse investigated by Francesca and Sabrina was designed to end the Thyssen dynasty, the rulers of Kovir. They were cursed by Scarlet Rodallega, a complete madman, but very talented. An eclipse and wraiths also accompanied his curse.
GERALT: So, Sabrina's curse is just a knock-off Rodallega.
PHILIPPA: Exactly.
GERALT: Can Francesca's experience help us?
PHILIPPA: Certainly. I know the symbols and the workings of the curse thanks to her.
GERALT: Care to explain? I'm the one risking my neck.
PHILIPPA: You'll have to re-live the battle and change its course at the right moment. I don't know exactly what will happen. Nobody does.
GERALT: Mm... I'll look for those artifacts.
GERALT: I'm good for now. I'll let you know when I learn something.
[There are a few different people Geralt can talk to about the battle at Brenna. First is Yarpen.]
GERALT: Did you fight at Brenna?
YARPEN: Ah, fuck, I knows you've got amnesia, but you coulda remembered that!
YARPEN: Ah, it was a beautiful day. On one side, six and forty thousand Black Ones - on the other, us, the Nordlings together. The Redanians led by De Ruyter on the left, the Temerian regiments in the middle... And us on the right, the Mahakam Volunteer Army - all dwarves. Even the likes of Coehoorn must've shit his britches at the sight of us.
GERALT: He hardly lacked courage, as I heard it.
YARPEN: A right brave bastard, that's true. Preferred to die than run like a rat. I don't believe I've ever seen a bigger melee, except maybe three years ago, here at Vergen. We'd have managed that day, too, even without the magic - that burning shit that fell from the sky. Why, even the Dun Banner knelt before us when we brought our battleaxes down.
GERALT: Some say not one of the Dun Banner survived. Any truth to that?
YARPEN: Biggerhorn nabbed the survivors as they fled south, but most men of the Banner lie in the catacombs - along with their standard. The Dun Banner - what the hell kind of name is that for a unit anyway? It's as if they couldn't get their fuckin' flag clean.
[Stennis also has some information about the battle.]
GERALT: I'm trying to figure out where this fog came from. What exactly happened here three years ago?
STENNIS: Henselt's mages committed mass murder. A dark day for the knighthood and all people of honor. But it was honor that allowed us to survive. There was no defeat, no victory. Honor stood against wickedness. Virtue against black magic.
GERALT: You took part in that battle?
STENNIS: My father stayed in the capital. He was to defend Vengerberg. I took to the field. I wanted to stop Henselt before he crossed the Pontar, but I was too late. So I decided to await him at Vergen.
STENNIS: Henselt's army was exhausted. We would have triumphed, if not for that heinous act. Henselt had mages with him, and they cast a treacherous spell on the entire battlefield. A fiery rain fell from the heavens - destructive, murderous embers which brought the battle to an end. I gathered the few survivors and withdrew deep into the country. The soldiers were terrified, but Henselt showed no desire to pursue.
GERALT: You wrote Vergen off.
STENNIS: There's a place in Kaedwen where orphans are subjected to cruel experiments. Nine out of ten boys perish from the pain. Sound familiar? They say that sacrifices are necessary to create one witcher, one hero to defend the people against monsters.
GERALT: Not the best analogy.
STENNIS: You know nothing of military strategy and you've never been responsible for a nation's fate. Which is why I forgive you your ignorance.
GERALT: Only a master mage could've cast such a powerful spell. And I suspect he could not have accomplished it alone.
STENNIS: I remember Sabrina Glevissig. Through the flames I saw her observing the carnage from her mount, dressed in a hunting suit - straight-backed, dispassionate.
GERALT: Sabrina... If I remember correctly, she's Henselt's advisor.
STENNIS: Was. Henselt condemned her to death for casting that spell. The Kaedwenis roasted in their armor just the same way the Aedirnians did. You know what struck me when all hell broke loose, what I found astonishing and even amusing?
STENNIS: Going into battle we sang our Aedirnian songs. They intoned their Kaedweni hymns to Kreve. But when fire descended from the sky, our cries of pain were no different. We all wailed as humans. For an instant, the magnitude of the tragedy brought together our two warring nations.
GERALT: I still have no idea where the spectral fog came from.
STENNIS: I'm afraid I don't know either.
[Finally, Geralt can go speak to Cecil.]
GERALT: Cecil, do you know anyone who fought in the war three years ago?
CECIL: I did.
GERALT: Did you fight here at Vergen?
CECIL: Course.
GERALT: Philippa claims you know a bit about the battle?
CECIL: That old kook Henselt, called king by some, thought that Aedirnians were bumpkins who'd shit bricks as soon as his troops crossed the river.
GERALT: Why did he attack Aedirn?
CECIL: According to Henselt, Upper Aedirn is the ancient legacy of the Kaedweni crown and must be returned to the mother country. Brazen farter.
GERALT: That brazen farter had a point. If you read some history, you'll know that three hundred years ago this land belonged to Kaedwen.
CECIL: Load of crap! Seven hundred years ago the elves reigned here! And a million years ago these lands were the domain of the worms! If things worked that way, every king could invade a neighboring land and claim his right to do so because an ancestor took a dump there!
GERALT: All right... Henselt wanted to conquer Upper Aedirn. What then?
CECIL: He rolled in, got hammered, and rolled out.
GERALT: Cecil, that doesn't help me much...
CECIL: It wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. If I try speaking of it, I'll see it all again... I don't want...
GERALT: The ghosts of the fallen fight in the mist. They turn into horrible creatures called draugirs. Aedirnians, Kaedweni... men, elves... And dwarves too.
CECIL: Bloody hell. No peace even after death.
GERALT: I want to help them. But I need to know more about the battle.
CECIL: Very well, listen...
CECIL: A beautiful day... that grew hot later. Very hot. When Vandergrift attacked in the afternoon, he sent the Dun Banner at the fore. Many of our lads shit themselves at the mere sight of their standard. But we had a surprise of our own. Under the cover of night we'd prepared fire pits. Our archers lit them up at the right moment. I still can't believe we managed to fool their scouts. If it wasn't for that ambush, we wouldn't be speaking today. There likely wouldn't be an Upper Aedirn at all.
CECIL: We decimated the Dun Banner, but that was only the beginning. Seltkirk was our commander. Everywhere he appeared, the Kaedwenis gave ground. He wreaked havoc among them. Hearts rose at the mere sight of his armor. Then Vandergrift himself entered the fray. Seltkirk met him in the middle of the field. In the end, Vandergrift killed Seltkirk. A terrible death that sent the Aedirnian ranks into disarray.
CECIL: I thought it was the end of us... Then the sky fell. As if the stars themselves had decided to avenge the death of a great knight. Fire covered the battlefield. Nobody sought the enemy. They were all looking for somewhere to flee.
CECIL: Yeees... There were no more friends and enemies, only the living and the dead. They say it was the doing of a Kaedweni sorceress who wanted revenge on Vandergrift. Could be true, as Henselt had her executed right after the battle.
GERALT: Remember anything from before the battle?
CECIL: As if it was yesterday. Henselt's troops crossed the Pontar the third day after the autumn equinox. Aedirn had good spies, so we were ready for them, and Seltkirk lined up our troops along the hills.
CECIL: Our hearts rose at the sight of the banners of Vengerberg, Aldersberg and Gulet fluttering in the wind... Knights and armored infantry side by side in our ranks... Even the peasants had their regiments. The dwarves were on the left flank. Over five thousand strong we were. Nobody caring about race or background. Like never before. Only King Demavend was missing. But he must have had more important business than defending his country.
GERALT: You saw the Kaedwenis cross the river?
CECIL: From afar. I saw Vandergrift leading four thousand heavily armed men. Many a heart sank when we saw the elite Bear Heads or the armored banners from Ard Carraigh. The Dun Banner was in the middle - veterans of Brenna.
CECIL: As soon as he set foot on Aedirnian land, Vandergrift climbed a hill and surveyed the area, as if it was his fief. Son of a bitch was as sure of himself as ever. Upon spying him, I remember the dwarves all dropped their trousers and showed him their arses.
CECIL: Then Seltkirk stepped out in front of us. His white armor shone in the sun. We were afraid a Kaedweni arbalist would shoot him, but they, too, stood as if frozen. And Seltkirk just looked at them and bowed ever so slightly.
GERALT: Did you see the duel between Seltkirk and Vandergrift?
CECIL: I stood half a furlong from them. Never seen a fight like it. Probably never will again.
CECIL: They'd already met once. At a jousting tournament in Ard Carraigh. Seltkirk won there. He beat on The Visitor so hard he broke his sword. Seltkirk was a true knight, the last of his breed. Vandergrift was so pissed off after that tournament he hanged the smith who made his sword and ordered a special one, from a sorcerer. I bet he cut down Seltkirk with that new sword.
GERALT: Vandergrift is dead. What happened to his sword?
CECIL: Saskia's got it. Good thing, too. Only her hand can tame the hatred enchanted in that sword. After the battle, when the flames abated, the scavengers came. They stole everything. Imagine - not a single keepsake of Seltkirk in the whole of Aedirn. His brother babbled something about a gauntlet, but he's a lying dog.
GERALT: You captured the Dun Banner's standard?
CECIL: Henselt's choice troops and not a one survived. The Visitor sent them to their deaths. Refused to give them reinforcements. He was a monster in human form. The men of the Dun were real swaggerers. Killed a lot of our lads, but for every Dunner there were seven Aedirnians... They had no chance.
CECIL: Aye, we captured their standard. We buried what was left of them in the crypts beyond Vergen. Their standard lies with them. Worthy foes are to be respected, even in death.
GERALT: I'm going to need that standard.
GERALT: Thanks. Cecil, that was helpful. I think I know what I need to lift the curse now.
CECIL: Madame Eilhart claims you need four symbols... The standard symbolizes death, Vandergrift's sword stands for hatred. What about the other two...?
GERALT: I have a feeling Philippa has a handle on the rest.
CECIL: Here's hopin' you're right.
[Geralt goes to the the dwarven catacombs and makes his way to the burial place of the Dun Banner. As he enters the room, a wraith manifests.]
GHOST OF EKHART: Who are you and what do you seek?
GERALT: Geralt of Rivia. I seek the standard of the Dun Banner. Who are you?
EKHART: Ekhart Henessy - ensign and color bearer of the Dun Banner, the best force to issue from the land of Kaedwen.
GERALT: Go back where you belong, corpse.
[Geralt banishes Ekhart's wraith.]
GERALT: You may not remember me, but I remember you.
EKHART: Where from?
GERALT: I served in the Dun Banner.
EKHART: Liar!
GERALT: I fought beneath its standard at Brenna and at Vergen...
[The ghost decides to test Geralt's knowledge of the battle to prove his claim.]
EKHART: You wear the wool coat of the Dun Banner. If not for that, you would be a dead man. Try once more.
EKHART: If not for the beaver cap you wear, I would speak to you no longer. Try once more.
EKHART: You lie! You are not of the Dun Banner and you must die!
EKHART: The Battle of Brenna... The Nordlings shoulder to shoulder against the Black Ones. The Redanians led by De Ruyter on the right... Natalis leading Temeria on the left. A splendid sight, was it not?
GERALT: You're mistaken. The Redanian regiments were on the left, the Temerians took the center.
EKHART: Correct. Perhaps you speak the truth...
GERALT: Try me again.
EKHART: Tell me, for this you must know... Who was chief commander of the Nilfgaardians at Brenna?
GERALT: Menno Coehoorn.
EKHART: I'm beginning to believe you. Menno Coehoorn... The repulsive head hound of the Nilfgaardian pack. But a great commander. He will again let the Nordlings' blood. Would you agree?
GERALT: Your memory has suffered after death. Coehoorn perished. At Brenna.
EKHART: You are vigilant. I could not deceive you.
GERALT: Because I am of the Dun Banner.
EKHART: Perhaps you did fight at Brenna... It was so long ago... I may have forgotten you... But Vergen is another matter...
GERALT: I can't answer for the state of your memory.
EKHART: You are right... Memory often fails us after death. I cringe to admit I've forgotten who commanded the armies during the Battle of Vergen, perhaps the most important day of my life. And the last... Be so good as to remind me...
GERALT: Seltkirk led Aedirn, Vandergrift led us.
EKHART: Well done. Not all know that. Some believe that the kings commanded the armies during the battle... Or that their mages did...
GERALT: Do you believe me yet?
EKHART: Not yet, but I shall when you tell me how you survived the massacre at Vergen.
GERALT: Most men of the Dun died, the survivors withdrew south. The fires blocked our way back to our lines and we fell into Biggerhorn's trap.
EKHART: I know the cowardly bastard.
EKHART: You have proven that you served in the Dun Banner.
GERALT: May I take the standard?
EKHART: Why do you desire it so?
GERALT: It will help me lift a curse.
EKHART: Curses are of no import to me.
GERALT: This one should be. It has stopped King Henselt's army from advancing.
EKHART: The Unicorn has returned?
GERALT: He stands at Vergen's gates. With your help, he'll avenge the Dun Banner.
EKHART: The standard lies in the sarcophagus. Take it. You will also find the sword of Colonel Gondor. Now, it is yours.
GERALT: Thank you.
EKHART: Where have you left your mount?
GERALT: There are no horses here.
EKHART: True. I would gladly drink with a brother from Brenna, but I am an unfettered soul, strong drink means nothing, tastes of nothing. Perhaps I miss that most in death. Guard the standard. I grasped it firmly even as they cut me down.
[Geralt retrieves the standard and the Dun Banner sword from the sarcophagus and leaves.]
[Geralt goes to ask Philippa if she has any leads on Triss.]
PHILIPPA: You wanted to discuss something?
GERALT: I'm looking for Triss. Letho forced her to teleport near Vergen.
PHILIPPA: Letho?
GERALT: Foltest's killer. Perhaps Demavend's, too. Will you help me find her?
PHILIPPA: Certainly. We sorceresses must stick together. We have too many enemies.
GERALT: Triss contacted you through Síle de Tansarville's megascope while in Flotsam.
PHILIPPA: And I haven't heard from her since.
GERALT: Can you locate her?
PHILIPPA: A megascope responds to a person's aura. If I had something of hers I could find her. You were close to her, maybe you have something?
GERALT: No, I don't have anything.
PHILIPPA: Not good... Wait... A local drunkard claims he saw a redhead fall out of the sky. This could be a lead.
GERALT: Drunkards say all sorts of nonsense. One claimed his dog was writing poetry.
GERALT: There are many redheads.
GERALT: I never heard of flying women before.
PHILIPPA: Perhaps they're just drunken delusions. It's possible, however, that an unstable teleport ejected Triss near the town.
GERALT: As it's our only lead, I'll talk to this drunkard. Do you know him?
PHILIPPA: I'm not used to associating with drunkards, but you'll likely find him in the inn.
GERALT: Thank you.
PHILIPPA: Come back as soon as you learn anything.
[Geralt goes to the tavern to talk to the drunkard, Martus Birut, who is hanging around by the innkeeper's counter.]
MARTUS: Let me tell you about the woman who fell from the sky...
INNKEEPER: Ah, you've told that story a thousand times! I've heard enough of flying women!
MARTUS: It was very unusual...
INNKEEPER: What would be unusual is if you returned home sober for once. You won't trick me into buying you a round.
GERALT: I heard you saw something interesting.
MARTUS: As clearly as I see you! Amazing! I look into the sky...
MARTUS: But wait... You must buy a fellow a drink for such a story.
INNKEEPER: Will you shut it already?! We could all recite this bullshit now.
MARTUS: I'm a client and I'll say what I want. Pour me some Mahakaman mead, and no cheating! This noble wayfarer will pay.
GERALT: I'm not about to buy a pig in a poke.
MARTUS: Not a pig, but a beeeautiful woman, and not in a poke, in the sky. You won't regret it.
GERALT: Innkeeper, you said you could recite the story. Tell me.
INNKEEPER: If you pay for two bottles of mead this drunkard guzzled.
MARTUS: The innkeeper's too dumb to tell such a beeeautiful story.
GERALT: But he's sober. How much for those bottles?
INNKEEPER: This is no luxury establishment - just look at the clientele. Same price you'd see anywhere.
INNKEEPER: A few days ago, a redheaded woman and a huge man appeared in the gullies, as if they'd fallen from the sky. The man left, while a troll found the woman and took her deep into a ravine.
GERALT: That's all?
MARTUS: No! I told you this tongue wagger would ruin my story!
INNKEEPER: That was exactly your story. Just not embellished.
MARTUS: If you want to know the whole story, you'll have to pay for my mead.
GERALT: I know all I need. Godspeed.
MARTUS: Such a fine liquor, and my arse has no taste. You won't regret it.
GERALT: Speak.
MARTUS: Last week I was passing by the gullies. I like to take a hike from time to time...
GERALT: Get to the point.
MARTUS: Hush... So I'm walking and suddenly there's a flash... a crack... I'm thinking, "a storm's coming," but nary a cloud in the sky.
INNKEEPER: You hit the ground with your arse so hard, you saw a flash. You were that drunk.
MARTUS: Then I saw people lying in a gully, as if they'd fallen from the sky! A man and a woman. The woman was so beautiful, I wished she'd fallen down on me.
GERALT: What did the woman look like?
MARTUS: A redhead. Wearing a vest and high shoes, with pert tits and a round arse... Just waiting to to be grabbed and... mmmhff.
INNKEEPER: Sounds just like your old lady.
MARTUS: Shut your mouth!
GERALT: Did you get a good look at the man?
MARTUS: Huge fellow! His mug cut up like he shaved with a scythe while drunk.
GERALT: What happened then?
MARTUS: Well... the woman was hurting, couldn't get up. The man clearly disliked her 'cause he didn't help her. Just stood there, menacing and talking. And then he left and the redhead stayed.
INNKEEPER: Noticed her tits, but didn't even try to help her, you sod.
MARTUS: I was about to do exactly that, when a troll came out of the gully. Ugly as shit after blueberries!
GERALT: Did it attack her?
MARTUS: Not at all. I hid and saw everything. First he sniffed her, so I though he'd eat her. But he didn't... He threw her over his shoulder like a sack and returned to the gullies.
GERALT: Is that all?
MARTUS: Yes. Didn't waste your money, as you'll agree.
[Geralt heads out. He finds the troll in the ravines, stirring a cauldron surrounded by elf bones.]
TROLL: Who there?!
GERALT: A witcher.
TROLL: Bumpkins wisha send to me kill? So be. Kill. Quick. No pain.
GERALT: First tell me - where's the woman you kidnapped?
TROLL: Kidnap none! I troll!
GERALT: A dwarf saw you carrying a human woman.
TROLL: Midge stupid. Sick she - me carry. Her help, feed, pet, but she run go... Missus first run go, redhead then. All gone. Soup only stay.
GERALT: Why do you want to die?
TROLL: Live why? Me missus me want no more. Be lone - be terrible.
GERALT: What's in the pot?
TROLL: Soup - elf and onion. Gooood. Want try?
GERALT: I don't really care for onions.
TROLL: Stupid wisha. Elf good taste with onions... Tomato like.
GERALT: Where did you get the elves?
TROLL: Missus bring from gullies, like I bring redhead...
GERALT: The redhead's in the soup, too?
TROLL: No. Redhead run go. Missus run go. All gone, only soup stay.
GERALT: Tell me, troll. What happened here?
TROLL: Me in gullies, missus in gullies. Bones found, nice to gnaw. Then wham! Humies from sky fall!
GERALT: You're lying, troll. People don't fall from the sky.
TROLL: Troll true tell. Flash! Crack! Two humies drop where dumbles' ship. Humie man, big as troll, and womyn. I go see...
GERALT: Was the man bald? Did he have a scar?
TROLL: Wisha man likes man? See I from far. Bald, yes. Scar no see. Run he go to gullies, leave redhead humie... Dumb.
TROLL: See I go. Redhead groan. Her pain. Closer I creep. Run she not go. Leg her grow. Take me humie womyn, go home.
TROLL: Missus angry. Call humie wench thinbones. Hungry missus, yap and yap, then run go own for food. Give water redhead humie. Leaves cover leg. Humie redhead nice, pet she when sleeps. Redhead have kerchief, nice to sniff...
TROLL: Missus come back, elfs in hand. Drop thinwench, idgit, she call. Missus yap "Rag give." Troll say not - nice to feel, stench troll like. Missus say: "She or me." Nice redhead, nice rag stench. Troll missus tell. Missus troll with log beat and run go. Even left elfs...
GERALT: What happened to the redhead?
TROLL: Redhead wrongpain, redhead stay. Pain gone, redhead run go. At night - troll sleep. Windhowl empty.
GERALT: Do you still have the redhead's bandanna?
TROLL: No. Missus take away. Old bug leave elfs, rag steal, and run go.
GERALT: Where did she go, your...wife?
TROLL: Gullies. Missus gullies like, gullies me like...
GERALT: Why don't I look for her?
TROLL: Wisha missus no kill. Good old bug. Little batty.
GERALT: I won't hurt your woman.
TROLL: Missus tell come back. Be lone - be terrible. Windhowl empty.
GERALT: Fine. I'll tell your mate to come back. But I need the redhead's bandanna.
TROLL: Missus have. Missus good, she upgive. Soon as she back.
GERALT: I can't promise you that...
TROLL: Good troll be. Redhead run go. Missus get come back.
GERALT: You could've petted and sniffed the redhead a little less...
TROLL: Troll care, troll help! Wisha now help. No wisha help, troll kill!
GERALT: Out of my way.
TROLL: Wisha to soup!
[Troll attacks, and Geralt kills him.]
[Geralt continues through the ravines looking for the she-troll. Ahead he hears sounds of fighting, and comes on the she-troll being attacked by heavily-armored mercenaries. Standing by and watching are Adam Pangratt and another mercenary.]
PANGRATT: She's wounded. Let her bleed.
MERCENARY: Better lunge at her all at once. She's weakened.
PANGRATT: Not worth the risk...
GERALT: What are you doing here?
PANGRATT: We're mercenaries, currently on King Henselt's pay. We were sent here on reconnaissance. Barely escaped with our lives from that mist of specters. Now we're up against a furious she-troll. Who are you?
GERALT: Geralt of Rivia.
MERCENARY: The White Wolf! We could use professional help, witcher.
PANGRATT: Will you help us?
GERALT: I can't let you kill her.
MERCENARY: Since when does a monster slayer take their side?!
GERALT: None of your business. I need her. And you need to leave.
PANGRATT: She killed two of my men.
GERALT: Walk away - and nobody else will get hurt.
PANGRATT: You won't help? Fine. Just don't disturb us. We'll manage ourselves.
GERALT: The troll needs to live.
PANGRATT: The troll will die.
GERALT: Then you'll have to kill me, too.
PANGRATT: In that case - adieu, witcher.
GERALT: Yeah, I'll help.
PANGRATT: Excellent. Let's make it quick.
[Geralt either helps them kill the she-troll, or fights Adam's mercenaries.]
MERCENARY: She's breathed her last. What now?
PANGRATT: Enough! We surrender. Throw down your arms, men! Spare us, witcher, the king will pay our ransom...
GERALT: I'm not looking for a ransom. Leave the troll alone and go your way.
PANGRATT: You'll let us go?
GERALT: You can't return through the mist, it's certain death.
MERCENARY: We're soldiers of fortune, we're not afraid of death.
PANGRATT: Neither do we foolishly seek it. The witcher's right.
MERCENARY: Commander, we were to find a witcher...
PANGRATT: A bald one, with a snake medallion. This one's white haired, with a wolf on his neck...
GERALT: You're looking for Letho.
PANGRATT: You know him?
GERALT: You could say that. I'm looking for him, too. What do you know about him?
PANGRATT: Síle de Tansarville told us to search the ravines for this Letho. All we found was a camp strewn with dead Scoia'tael. This Letho was responsible for the bloodbath, and he did not act alone.
GERALT: Where was this?
PANGRATT: On the other side of the wraiths' mist.
GERALT: What were you to do with him?
PANGRATT: Kill him. And anyone with him.
GERALT: Anyone? Are you sure?
PANGRATT: That was the order.
GERALT: Do you know where Letho is?
PANGRATT: Somewhere on the other side of this mist. We found a trail, but then the mist descended. We got lost and emerged from it here.
GERALT: I advise you to surrender to the rebels.
PANGRATT: That would be new to me. I am Adam Pangratt, known as "Adieu."
GERALT: You won't survive for long out here.
MERCENARY: They'll hang us. They know Henselt hired us.
GERALT: Go to Cecil Burdon. He'll treat you fairly. But don't count on him outbidding Henselt.
PANGRATT: Hear that boys?! Let's meet the Dragonslayer. The witcher claims we'll be safe and sound. Gather the wounded, stop buggering and move out!
[If Geralt killed the she-troll, he loots Triss' bandana from her corpse and, if he didn't already kill him, has to kill her mate on the way back as well. Otherwise, the she-troll comes to thank him.]
SHE-TROLL: Humies troll see, to kill humies itchy. Would kill troll, sure. You other. Goood you help. Troll you help.
GERALT: I know you've got something that belongs to my friend. The redhead.
SHE-TROLL: Troll got redhead rag. Idgit it sniffed. Here. Take. Stink rag. Humie run go. Troll be lone.
GERALT: If you want to help me, go back to your old man.
SHE-TROLL: No! Idgit humie redhead grope!
GERALT: He's alone now. He misses you.
SHE-TROLL: Tell him, "Too late!"
GERALT: Know anything about the woman who was in your lair?
SHE-TROLL: Troll know! Humie ugly, humie stinks!
GERALT: Return to your husband if you want to repay me.
SHE-TROLL: Troll don't want, but troll will. For you other, you good.
[Geralt and the she-troll return to her mate.]
TROLL: Missus back! Gooood. Troll like.
SHE-TROLL: Me back for wisha asked. Stay away if wisha not ask.
TROLL: Missus wise.
SHE-TROLL: Idgit you. Humie womyn grope.
TROLL: No more. Never 'gain.
GERALT: Give me the bandanna.
SHE-TROLL: Here. Stupid old buck.
TROLL: Troll give horn. In danger, wisha blow - troll come.
GERALT: Thanks, I'll remember that. Now go to your mate. Maybe pick her some flowers first.
TROLL: Flowers no, flowers stench. Troll bring bird dung.
SHE-TROLL: Idgit! What troll do in lair?
TROLL: Nothin'...
SHE-TROLL: Me see! Stench!
TROLL: Stench will run go...
SHE-TROLL: Humie stench! Sleep no me!
[Geralt returns to Philippa and gives her Triss' bandana.]
GERALT: I've got Triss's bandanna.
PHILIPPA: Have you learned anything?
GERALT: Triss was here. Letho forced her to teleport...
PHILIPPA: Who's Letho?
GERALT: The kingslayer. I pursued him to Flotsam, but he gave me the slip, kidnapping Triss as he did. He forced her to teleport him here, to Vergen.
PHILIPPA: Why would he? There are easier ways to travel.
GERALT: Two of Letho's comrades, probably those responsible for Demavend's death, were hiding among the Scoia'tael. When it became evident in Flotsam that the kingslayer wanted to dispose of Iorveth, the Scoia'tael leader gave the order to eliminate them. Letho had to reach the unit before the elven messengers did. He could only do that by teleporting.
PHILIPPA: I assume that Triss wanted to teleport to me, but she missed the mark and they ended up in the gullies. What happened next?
GERALT: Letho left her in a gully, wounded. He probably thought that she'd diversify the local trolls' diet. He himself went to see the elves and massacred the unit with his comrades. They're somewhere on the other side of the fog.
PHILIPPA: What about Triss?
GERALT: She escaped from the troll... Everything suggests she's somewhere in the area.
PHILIPPA: I can assure you she is not in Vergen...
GERALT: She has to be here. Locate her.
PHILIPPA: I'll try, but it will take some time. Have you learned anything else?
GERALT: Síle ordered Letho and Triss killed.
PHILIPPA: I can't believe that.
GERALT: Believe it. I ran into some mercenaries she enlisted to kill Letho and anyone found with him.
PHILIPPA: She must have meant the other kingslayers. Are you sure she knew Triss was with him?
GERALT: Are you so sure of Síle? There was something going on between her and Triss... I sensed a lot of tension.
PHILIPPA: A misunderstanding.
GERALT: Maybe. Let's find Triss and clear everything up.
PHILIPPA: I need some time...
GERALT: Nothing worth mentioning.
PHILIPPA: You're lying – there is something else.
GERALT: Stay out of my head.
PHILIPPA: I'm sorry, I acted on instinct... In a few hours I should know what happened to Triss.
PHILIPPA: What's going on out there?
GERALT: Let's see.
[Geralt and Philippa leave her quarters to find a noble on her doorstep.]
PHILIPPA: What's going on?
NOBLE: The peasants want to take pitchforks to King Demavend's son!
GERALT: Why?
NOBLE: The Dragonslayer's servant is spreading rumors that Stennis poisoned Saskia. The commoners are in an uproar - they want to dispense justice.
GERALT: Where's the prince?
NOBLE: Barricaded himself in his room, guarded by nobles. For the moment, the peasants are still respectful, but they are feverish. A fight is inevitable. Help us out, the situation is dire. I'm going to inform the other nobles.
GERALT: Dogs growl at cats. Cats hiss at the dogs. A noble's a wolf to a peasant...
PHILIPPA: Forget those animalistic similes and take care of it. I'll try to locate Triss.
GERALT: I'm not sure if Prince Stennis is guilty, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was involved.
PHILIPPA: Power - the object of dark desire.
GERALT: Let's go, before this dark desire becomes too strong and someone gets hurt.
PHILIPPA: You go, I'll locate Triss.
PHILIPPA: And should anything happen to Prince Stennis, remember... We need his blood.
GERALT: I remember.
[Geralt heads to the Castle of the Three Fathers, where Stennis' quarters are.]
NOBLE 1: The commoners claim it's our prince's doing!
NOBLE 2: Such judgment is above their station!
NOBLE 3: I believe it's Henselt's provocation. He wants to drive a wedge between us!
[Outside Stennis' doorway, a mob of humans and a few dwarves are camped out.]
DWARF 1: Serfs and lords will never be on the same side!
DWARF 2: Humans only care how their arses rise as their stations do!
DWARF 1: They're playing into Henselt's hands! If they start at each others' throats, we'll have to face the entire might of Kaedwen alone!
DWARF 2: You can't mix water with fire.
DWARF 1: Saskia could!
DWARF 2: And you see what they did to her!
KALTEN: Give us Stennis!
NOBLE 1: The prince does not grant an audience.
PEASANT 1: Then we'll see how you like the pitchfork and get the bastard ourselves!
SKALEN: Move along! Go in peace!
PEASANT 2: Oh, there's no peace if the criminal walks freely!
NOBLE 2: Judging the prince is above your station!
NOBLE: You won't get the prince!
KALTEN: A flail could hit your head, too!
NOBLE: That would be murder! Murder of royal blood!
KALTEN: Not murder. Plain justice! I'll remember you. You'll squeal and beg me to shiv you swiftly.
[Geralt approaches the mob.]
DANDELION: Geralt! It's good to see you!
ZOLTAN: The commoners claim Stennis is involved in Saskia's poisoning. They're looking to slaughter him.
GERALT: What's stopping them?
DANDELION: The knights. Aedirnian noble lords...
ZOLTAN: Not easy to raise a hand against a blue-blood.
GERALT: A peasant by the name of Kalten was at the council. He didn't seem to respect anything or anyone.
ZOLTAN: Kalten's a blackguard! He'll use any excuse to raid and plunder.
DANDELION: He has a taste for noble blood. They say he buries gold looted from the lords in some gorge.
GERALT: Nobody to keep things peaceful?
ZOLTAN: Skalen Burdon and his dwarves are trying to contain the mob, but they're badly outnumbered.
DANDELION: The plebs'll yell a lot, beat someone up and go home. As peasants do.
ZOLTAN: Don't be foolish. They're not serfs anymore. The days of them humbly sowing and reaping are gone.
DANDELION: Looks like things are getting nasty.
[Skalen and the nobles confront the mob.]
SKALEN: Hear me!
KALTEN: Whaddaya want?
SKALEN: I'm Skalen Burdon. I keep order in Vergen.
KALTEN: Oh, doin' a nice job, then! Where was you when they poisoned Saskia?!
PEASANT: Give us the prince! Get the flails!
[Iorveth shoulders his way into the fray, flanked by Scoia'tael.]
IORVETH: Stop!
PEASANT: Iorveth...
NOBLE: Squirrels...
IORVETH: Everyone who wants to leave this yard in one piece - keep your hands off your weapons. I don't care if you're a serf or a lord. I'll kill you all if need be.
GERALT: What's going on?
KALTEN: The servant carrying wine during the feast said that Prince Stennis and Olcan poisoned Saskia! We want justice!
GERALT: You want revenge. It's not the same thing.
KALTEN: We don't care! Saskia's fallen as if dead, while the poisoning prince and noble lords rush to herd us onto the field and sell us to Henselt. We won't let them!
NOBLE: You lie, Kalten. Nobody's being sold out. The poisoner must be caught and tried by law.
KALTEN: Your law? What then? He'll pay a fine and get spanked on his arse? We'll spank him all right - with an axe to the throat!
GERALT: Where's this servant?
IORVETH: Safe. The Scoia'tael keep an eye on him.
KALTEN: Why is the prince hiding in his house if he's innocent?!
IORVETH: Enough! I'll shoot the first to reach for a weapon. Then heads will start falling.
KALTEN: There's more of us. You can't kill every...
IORVETH: Then you'll be first. Now back off!
KALTEN: Go get the lads! We won't stand for this.
PEASANT: Aughhhh...My hand!
IORVETH: I'll cut the block off the next man who dares try his luck.
[Iorveth comes up to Geralt.]
IORVETH: We need to act quickly.
GERALT: We?
IORVETH: The mob's akin to a forest after a drought. One spark and the fire will be unstoppable.
GERALT: I'm no peacekeeper and definitely no judge.
IORVETH: We're both in it, whether you like it or not.
GERALT: Why are you getting involved?
IORVETH: For her, Gwynbleidd. Certainly not for this rabble...
GERALT: What's your plan?
IORVETH: I'll frighten them a little, bleed them if need be... I'll buy you some time, but be swift, I can't hold them off for long. Question the peasants and the nobles, and talk to the dwarves. Maybe you can get to meet Stennis.
GERALT: Even if he's guilty, I'm sure he's prepared a suitable story.
IORVETH: You'll know how to sort the sheep from the goats. Also, find the servant who started talking so suddenly. You won't have time to talk to everyone though, that's for sure.
GERALT: Anything changed?
IORVETH: Not really. The peasants keep hollering. The noblemen stubbornly guard their chieftain.
[There are several groups of people Geralt can talk to, though in-game not all of them can be spoken to before the mob boils over. These groups are Dandelion and Zoltan, a noble hanging out by himself, the nobles outside Stennis' door, the trio of dwarves, the peasant mob, and Stennis himself.]
[Geralt talks to Dandelion and Zoltan.]
ZOLTAN: Saskia's on the bier with Henselt at the gates. Wraiths fill the mist and commoners and nobles are at each others' throats... Lovely.
DANDELION: This is nonsense. What would the prince gain with the Virgin's death?
ZOLTAN: I can tell you what he lost with her life - power! As I see it, every princeling likes to scheme.
DANDELION: Guilt must be proven! Otherwise it's vigilante justice!
ZOLTAN: I'll grant you that, rhymester.
ZOLTAN: Things look bad - the peasants are furious. They finally have a chance to strike back for all the wrongs.
DANDELION: The noblemen won't yield.
ZOLTAN: They're a cowardly lot.
GERALT: They know their heads will follow Stennis's.
DANDELION: It's a deadlock. With the prince's guilt still to be proven.
ZOLTAN: Yarpen says it's someone from Aedirn. Sheldon, on the other hand, would shave his beard if it's not Henselt's spies.
GERALT: Anyone reached the prince in his chamber?
DANDELION: Not even close! The nobles guard him like a matron does her ward's heinie.
ZOLTAN: If the rabble slaughters the prince, there'll be no stopping them. They'll start doing things their own nasty way.
DANDELION: That's why the nobles will support the prince even if they believe he's guilty.
ZOLTAN: I'm sure Stennis's hands are dirtier than a peasant girl's fucked in a barn.
GERALT: Why would Sheldon suspect Henselt?
DANDELION: He'd sooner reach an agreement with Stennis than Saskia. Her death would be very convenient...
GERALT: Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: I'm wondering how anyone could manage to poison the wine. Saskia's a quick-witted lass. She doesn't let just anyone near. Someone she knew must have done it.
GERALT: Has Yarpen got any evidence?
ZOLTAN: No... Yarpen's an old kook and says he's got a "feeling." Ploughing soothsayer.
DANDELION: He might be right with those feelings. After all, not just anyone can pass through the wraiths' mist. It has to be someone local.
ZOLTAN: So it never crossed your mind that Henselt might have sent someone here before those ghosts appeared?
GERALT: How are things over there?
DANDELION: Nothing new. The serfs, like young wenches, are eager but scared.
ZOLTAN: Everyone's talking through their hats and the prince is still locked away.
[Geralt talks to the single noble leaning against the wall.]
LONE NOBLE: Witcher! Come here, I need to talk to you.
GERALT: What do you want?
LONE NOBLE: We of noble birth always had to protect the plebs from their own stupidity. If not for us, the world...
GERALT: I don't have time to listen to songs praising the nobility.
GERALT: Know anything about the attempt on Saskia's life?
LONE NOBLE: No I don't, but whatever the truth, the mob cannot lynch one of royal blood.
GERALT: So truth means nothing to you. That's what makes us different.
LONE NOBLE: I didn't say I don't care about truth! Just keep in mind, there's a world order that mustn't be destroyed.
GERALT: An order that allows injustice...
LONE NOBLE: If the prince turns out to be involved in this attempted murder, he should face a tribunal. The rabble doesn't understand the principles ruling the world.
GERALT: Or they do understand them and simply don't like them.
LONE NOBLE: Saskia is a wise woman, but there's one thing she doesn't take into consideration: this war will be over one day. Who will sow the crops and milk the cows, then? Saskia called the serfs to arms. Do you think they'll want to plough fields again?
GERALT: You may be right. But it's certainly not my business who'll plough your fields. Farewell.
LONE NOBLE: The prince is only the beginning... Kalten and his like won't respect anyone or anything.
LONE NOBLE: The world order, witcher. Keep it in mind!
[Geralt talks to the nobles outside Stennis' door.]
PEASANT: Give us this whoreplougher!
NOBLE: Roll in dung, you surly dog!
PEASANT: You'll change your tone when we put a sickle to your throat!
NOBLE: Save your threats for your hog-smelling woman!
GERALT: I'd gladly hear your opinion on the situation.
NOBLE: Finally, someone reasonable! It's obvious Henselt bribed some serf, who then did what he was told.
GERALT: The local peasants love Saskia.
NOBLE: Those surly dogs would gleefully accept a heavy pouch. Show me a serf with any sense of honor!
GERALT: Henselt couldn't possibly reach Vergen.
NOBLE: Doesn't he have sorcerers at his court? Or perhaps he hired a witcher to break through. There's no other explanation!
GERALT: That's interesting.
NOBLE: Just think it through. The prince couldn't have done it, the wine was in plain sight. Only the servants touched the decanters and who are they? Commoners! Then that same commoner incited his folk to stand against the nobles and the prince!
GERALT: Something to think about...
NOBLE: It's Henselt's doing!
[Geralt talks to the three dwarves.]
DWARF 1: It's good to see someone's taking care of it!
DWARF 1: The prince has it coming, me thinks.
DWARF 2: Good! Bloody bastard poisoned the Virgin.
GERALT: Can we have a word?
OGDEN: Why not... I'm Ogden, a founder - I cast mugs, plates, chalices... You need any, witcher?
GERALT: No, thanks. The tableware in the council chamber is your handiwork?
OGDEN: It is. Made it back in Mayor Farragut's time! Since then, each and every goblet has hit the floor dozens of times, and what happened? Nothing! Because they're steel! My goblets are indestructible, impervious to both the fury of sovereigns and servants who are all thumbs.
GERALT: Saskia's chalice was new.
OGDEN: Aye, it was. Back in Mayor Farragut's day, I venture Saskia was no more than an itch in her da's britches.
GERALT: Who ordered the goblet from you?
OGDEN: That goblet was a gift, a way for the folk of Vergen to pay tribute to Saskia. I got the honor of casting and presenting it to our lovely leader... The lass liked it so much, she's not used any other vessel since she received it.
GERALT: Was the order for a normal goblet?
OGDEN: Not a chance! It was supposed to be a gift! I ornamented it richly, even on the inside. Not terribly practical, that, as it's hard to get clean, some scum is bound to remain. But I wanted it looking downright regal - worthy of our Saskia.
GERALT: The other chalices were not ornamented on the inside?
OGDEN: Course not!
GERALT: Any chance there could've been two identical goblets?
OGDEN: Why there's no craftsman that comes close to me in Vergen!
GERALT: Could someone have tried to copy your handiwork?
OGDEN: Hah! I know of one who's been trying for years, but he's a fumbler, a screw up. He's not produced one decent vessel - they all look like the work of a drunken elf. Thorak's his name.
GERALT: See you at the inn, we'll grab a beer.
[Geralt talks to the peasants.]
PEASANT: Kill!
PEASANT: Give us the prince!
PEASANT 1: Why is he lingering about? Like the stench in a dwarven hovel...
PEASANT 2: Those witchers be cravin' gold. This one's sure to say the prince is innocent, then sting Stennis for a pouch.
PEASANT 1: He'd better search for our lad who served the Virgin instead of pissing around.
PEASANT 2: Once done with the prince, he'd better take care of the magnates. Throwin' their weight about too much, they are.
GERALT: You know Saskia's servant?
PEASANT 2: Willy of the Oblates. He handled the wine, indeed, but loves the Virgin like a sister and mother put together.
PEASANT 1: He'd gladly get quartered for her!
GERALT: Where's this Willy of yours?
PEASANT 2: Hiding in his shack. Afraid of them lords. Squirrels guard 'im.
GERALT: The prince stood right next to Saskia during the council. Did he have access to the wine cellar beforehand?
PEASANT 1: How should I know?
GERALT: Why flap your mouth, then?
PEASANT 2: The prince is a wealthy lord. Bribing a skivvy to poison the wine is nothing to him.
GERALT: Just because someone can afford gold teeth doesn't mean they'll pull their healthy ones.
GERALT: What's it really all about? Who's backing you?
PEASANT 2: We want justice!
PEASANT 1: We don't need no one backing us. We knows what to do.
GERALT: How would you punish the prince?
PEASANT 2: If a lad counts hens wrong, he'll be flogged. What should we then do with a man poisoning others?
PEASANT 3: Kill him!
GERALT: A land without a ruler is a nightmare.
PEASANT 2: We have a ruler! The Virgin of Aedirn!
GERALT: It's not certain she'll live.
PEASANT 2: Then we'll choose another who'll manage. But he must be one of us lads. That way he'll understand us.
PEASANT 1: And all people is gonna be equal. Our way.
GERALT: And the nonhumans?
PEASANT 1: We have enough dung on the fields. Let nonhumans find a nonhuman land.
PEASANT 2: Away with 'em!
[Geralt gets past Stennis' guards to talk to Stennis.]
GERALT: I want to speak with the prince.
GUARD 1: You're unique, then. Everyone else wants to tear him limb from limb.
GUARD 2: We won't let you in.
GERALT: I hope you won't regret that.
GERALT: Only I can help your prince.
GUARD 2: Are you mad?!
GUARD 1: Silence! I'm in command here and I grant the witcher leave to enter.
GUARD 2: Please, master.
[Geralt enters the prince's quarters.]
STENNIS: Are you here to kill me, monster slayer?
GERALT: I'm here for your help. You can save Saskia.
STENNIS: Do you hear them? They want my head. They equate the words of some village idiot with mine. I am the heir to the Aedirnian throne, the rightful ruler of this land, descendent of Demavend and Virfuril.
GERALT: Prince, if you help me heal Saskia, the people will forget...
STENNIS: If...? So, if I don't help you, they'll kill me... This is blackmail!
GERALT: This is a deal.
STENNIS: What do you want?
GERALT: I need royal blood for a potion that will heal Saskia.
STENNIS: Do you mock me?
GERALT: You owe Saskia your life. She carried you away from the wraiths' battle.
STENNIS: It was her duty - as it would have been of any Aedirnian. Besides, my realm is falling part, and she is responsible. Saskia and her rebels routed the royal forces at Gulet and on the banks of the Dyphne. For practical purposes, the Aedirnian army no longer exists.
GERALT: Those rebels are the last hope you have of stopping Henselt.
STENNIS: And what then? A pig herd will be crowned and appoint a shoeshine his secretary of state?
GERALT: Don't think that far ahead. Your Highness, just a few drops of your blood will cure Saskia. Vergen can defend itself only if she's in command.
STENNIS: I've already said, I owe this girl nothing. I'll not yield to blackmail even if it costs me my life. I'll go to the axe, my head held high. And I'll certainly not surrender even a drop of royal blood to save a peasant girl.
GERALT: Did you poison her?
STENNIS: Of course not. Even if I had, do you think I would boast about it? Don't be a fool.
GERALT: I'm trying to help. Not only Saskia, but you, Your Highness.
STENNIS: I won't yield to that rabble! Never! One smear is all they needed to lay siege to my doorstep... Do you really think I should plead my innocence every time some village idiot says, "The prince did it?" Or maybe go out there and beg them for mercy? Never!
GERALT: You merely need to convince them that you're innocent. Prove it wasn't you, and they'll walk away.
STENNIS: And if I am innocent, yet lack proof thereof? You claim you wish to help me... Do so - convince the people to believe me. You'll not regret it.
GERALT: You're trying to bribe me.
STENNIS: I want only to make a contract. Think about it.
STENNIS: Guards!
GUARD 1: What is it, Sire?!
STENNIS: Show the witcher out.
GUARD 2: Is everything in order, Sire?
STENNIS: We had a chat, but we are through.
STENNIS: Think on what I told you, Geralt.
GERALT: I will.
[After talking to the dwarves and the peasants, Geralt can leave the Castle of the Three Fathers and follow up on the leads they gave him.]
[Geralt goes to where the Scoia'tael are guarding the servant Willy Oblate.]
SCOIA'TAEL: If it was up to me, I'd line them all up against the wall.
SCOIA'TAEL: Guarding a peasant – some mission that is...
SCOIA'TAEL: Anyone so much as twitches...
WILLY: What should I do...? Nobody'll believe me anyway...
GERALT: I've been looking for you.
WILLY: I don't know you.
GERALT: You caused quite a commotion. Afraid of something?
WILLY: No, nothin'.
GERALT: You're lying.
WILLY: I didn't do nothin'! Didn't say nothin'. Don't know nothin' and didn't see nothin'!
GERALT: I don't want to hurt you, I really don't. But I'll cut your arm off if I have to.
WILLY: N..No... Please...!
GERALT: So tell me what you saw.
GERALT: Crap. Shut up already.
GERALT: What priest?
WILLY: Olcan. The one killed.
GERALT: So there's no way I can check if you're lying.
WILLY: I swear on my mother's grave, I speak the truth!
GERALT: What else did you hear? Tell me!
WILLY: Um... I was puttin' Saskia's room in order when the priest came to the prince's chamber next door. They wasn't speakin' loud, but I heard the priest say, "Just clear the servants from the kitchen." Nothing more. Reverend Olcan - only he could tell you how it was, beginning to end.
GERALT: The dead aren't very talkative.
WILLY: What about what they leave behind? There may be clues or some such...
GERALT: Maybe...
GERALT: Tell me everything you know about the attempt on Saskia's life.
GERALT: Nah. Just your imagination...
[Geralt heads to Cecil to find the location of Reverend Olcan's rooms.]
CECIL: They lie in wait for their lord and prince. Humans are on odd lot... I certainly hope Skalen can clean up this mess.... What can I do for you, witcher?
GERALT: I need to know where Reverend Olcan used to live.
CECIL: Hmm... Simple - let me show you on the map. It's about right here.
[Geralt enters the priest's room to search it.]
GERALT: Strange aura...
[On Olcan's desk, Geralt finds a schematic for a goblet similar to the one Saskia used.]
[Geralt goes to find Thorak.]
THORAK: Welcome, witcher, to my humble home.
GERALT: I have a few questions.
THORAK: Ask away.
GERALT: Anyone order an exquisitely adorned goblet from you?
THORAK: I get the occasional commission for tableware, sure. But what exactly are you talking about?
GERALT: Saskia's goblet. Was that your handiwork?
THORAK: That ugly bucket? Did you intend to offend me? Whoever made that thing should be whipped. I certainly hope Saskia orders her vessels from me next time.
GERALT: If she gets a chance to order anything again.
[Geralt notices that a nearby door resembles the one he saw in the dream of the terrified dwarf Baltimore and asks Thorak about it.]
GERALT: I'm looking for a dwarf by the name of Baltimore. Does he live here?
THORAK: Master Baltimore vanished some time ago.
GERALT: Who was Master Baltimore?
THORAK: He was our runesmith. The greatest specialist the world has ever seen. A lot of water has flowed down the Pontar since he disappeared, yet me and my apprentices still can't recreate all the runes he could inscribe.
GERALT: How did he vanish?
THORAK: One day he just up and disappeared. He had his fears, even paranoia, but that comes natural with great artists... Thought someone was out to kill him, then he vanished 'thout a trace in mysterious circumstances. After a month long search, we held a funeral - without his body - to honor the memory of the great master.
GERALT: Is that all?
THORAK: Baltimore's best apprentice became the new runesmith and... life goes on.
GERALT: Who lives here now?
THORAK: Yours truly. As Baltimore's best apprentice, I became the new runesmith. Got this house, along with the honor of continuing the great master's work.
GERALT: Can you tell me something about that mouldy door?
THORAK: That's the entrance to Baltimore's old workshop.
GERALT: Mind if I take a look?
THORAK: Not at all. Only, ye won't find anything but scrap metal and cobwebs.
[Inside the workshop, Geralt brings down a wall using Aard and finds a key and some notes with directions from Baltimore.]
THORAK: I heard a rumble, witcher... Everything all right?
GERALT: Yeah, just some rubble.
THORAK: Find anything?
GERALT: I found this...
THORAK: I can't read it. That's Elder speech, right?
GERALT: Correct. The text describes how to get to a certain place.
THORAK: What place?
GERALT: Don't know. The clues mark out a route of some sort.
THORAK: Could be where Baltimore hid his notes! Please, come to me if ye find anything. It's very important.
GERALT: Not a thing.
THORAK: Poor Baltimore lost his mind before his death and must have destroyed all his notes.
GERALT: Why are you so sure he's dead? You didn't find a body. Maybe he just... departed.
THORAK: Well... If he departed, he's as good as dead to us. A decent dwarf don't leave his settlement. Tell me... why are ye so interested in Baltimore?
GERALT: That's my business.
THORAK: Ye're wrong. Everything about a master's heritage is his successor's concern, which means it's my business. Baltimore's legacy belongs to us dwarves, so we'll be keeping an eye on ye.
GERALT: Curiosity, nothing more.
THORAK: Curiosity can be dangerous. It's led many a man astray.
GERALT: Are you threatening me?
THORAK: On the contrary... It's more of a warning. See ya.
[Geralt follows Baltimore's notes to his secret workshop. Once he finds it, Thorak and two thugs arrive.]
THORAK: Witcher, wait!
GERALT: What are you doing here?
THORAK: I been shadowing ye since the first time ye asked about Baltimore.
GERALT: Don't you mean "we"?
THORAK: Pay them no heed, they're my apprentices. I've an offer for ye. Before you explore that chest, allow my apprentice to take Baltimore's notes. The rest is yours.
GERALT: And I have an offer for you. Get out of here or I'll cut your head off.
THORAK: I knew kindness would lead nowhere. Get him, lads!
[The dwarves attack.]
GERALT: What's in those notes that you care about them so much? Why can't I see them?
THORAK: Baltimore was quirky in his old days. The chest may contain documents disgracing people who hold important posts in Vergen. I can't allow anyone to read them. Even if they're the creation of a sick mind. That's why, as I said, ye'll let us search the chest before you do. We'll take the notes, ye'll likely get a pouch full of orens - as well as a discount in my rune shop for life.
GERALT: So be it.
THORAK: Gamp, search the chest.
THORAK: Wise choice, witcher. If you need any runes, come see me. I never forget a favor.
THORAK: I knew you were hiding something from me, witcher.
GERALT: I wasn't the only one to hide something. Baltimore's notes state that the master will return from the grave to meet with you.
THORAK: Nobody returns from where we sent him.
GERALT: You just admitted to murder.
THORAK: Aye - but what of it? No one besides you knows, and you'll not leave here alive. Get him, lads!
[If Geralt kills Thorak, he loots a key off of him and goes to report the crime to Cecil.]
CECIL: By the pricks of the male gods! Master Baltimore's notes! Where did you get them?!
GERALT: I discovered his vault near the trolls' lair. By the way... Thorak, your new rune master, is dead. He and his two apprentices have left for a better world.
CECIL: What?! How did it happen?
GERALT: Thorak murdered Baltimore. There's enough evidence in the notes I just gave you.
CECIL: Thanks, witcher. A reward for your labors. It's not much, but I'll be needing funds to appoint and equip a new rune master now.
[With Thorak dead, Geralt can use his key to unlock a box in his workshop and find a receipt from Reverend Olcan ordering the duplicate goblet.]
[Geralt returns to the Castle and finds things escalating rapidly.]
NOBLE 1: If not for that damned Iorveth, the serfs would probably be hanging the prince by now.
NOBLE 2: He cannot be trusted. If he found proof of Stennis's guilt, he'd point his bow the other way.
NOBLE 1: But if it wasn't for him, we could not defend the prince.
NOBLE 1: Who will the witcher side with?
NOBLE 2: He's on very good terms with that damned elf.
NOBLE 1: Maybe he has good intentions? After all, he defended the prince.
KALTEN: Enough of this charade!
SKALEN: Try to be reasonable, folks! Sit down and talk in peace!
KALTEN: We've talked enough! Come on lads, let's drag the prince from 'is hovel!
GERALT: Vergen's not a cesspit for anyone to shit in. There are laws to abide and Skalen Burdon's job is to uphold them.
SILGRAT: There's no law allowing a serf to threaten a king's scion! I, Silgrat, brother of Seltkirk, the greatest knight to walk Aedirnian land, say so!
GERALT: Does it matter who was born in a castle and who in a pigsty!? Any fool can prejudge and condemn. It's easier to accuse than to prove guilt.
SILGRAT: A peasant servant claims that Prince Stennis supposedly attempted to kill Saskia. Why would the prince do such a dastardly deed?! Bear in mind how eminent is his lineage!
KALTEN: That's why! The mongrel covets the crown!
SILGRAT: Do you even remember how valorous he was towards Saskia during the negotiations with Henselt?!
KALTEN: Pretending to be with her he was, sly fox! Taking the simple peasants in! But us lads ain't so dumb as you lords think!
SILGRAT: See for yourselves how the commoners hate the prince, spitting venom like adders! They hatched a plot to dispose of him.
PEASANT: Saskia's servant said that...
SILGRAT: Where is this servant, might I ask? If he's got something to say, why does he hide like a thief?! The answer is simple - he's a fraud!
KALTEN: He's hidin' to save his skin from you whoresons! Squirrels have to guard him!
SILGRAT: One last question: how could the prince poison Saskia? It's a known fact that servants taste wine from the barrels before the Virgin sips it!
GERALT: No need to poison the wine. Smearing the poison inside the chalice would be enough.
SILGRAT: I never heard of anyone poisoning a chalice.
GERALT: You haven't heard much, then. One of the emperor's forebears died after sampling some lamb. He was always scared of poison and ate supper with his cook. The murderer spread poison on one side of a knife. Then he cut the meat so that only a small piece was poisoned.
KALTEN: The witcher's right! Give us Stennis!
SILGRAT: Saskia's got her own chalice!
GERALT: It was commissioned from one of the dwarves. The order came with a very detailed drawing.
SILGRAT: Even so - how did it come into Saskia's hand?
GERALT: A good point. We can't be sure if the prince poisoned the wine.
GERALT: It's not clear how the prince poisoned the wine, but that doesn't mean he didn't do it.
KALTEN: Stennis is blowing hot and cold. Everyone knows that!
SILGRAT: You were supposed to prove his guilt, not insult him, yokel!
KALTEN: Tell us who else would do it?! A peasant wanting to hurt the miss? Never! It's 'cause of her you noble dogs can't ignore us! A pig won't cut it's own throat. A peasant's not foolish enough to raise his hand against his savior!
SILGRAT: Perhaps it is no peasant's deed. However, that doesn't mean the prince is guilty, fool.
KALTEN: Answer me this: was not Stennis's room next to Saskia's? Do not the wines come from his own lice-ridden cellar? Can he not enter the Virgin's kitchen at will?! Yes, his serene dumbhead the prince can, curses on his kin! Nobody in Vergen wants to kill Saskia! And even if they wanted, nobody but Stennis could do it.
GERALT: You're wrong, Kalten. Reverend Olcan wanted to get rid of Saskia. He thought she was a monster at heart.
KALTEN: Olcan was on Stennis' leash, like a dog.
SILGRAT: How dare you, lout! Do you imagine if someone sits next to a married lady he's surely fucking her?
GERALT: The priest tried to convince Prince Stennis to join the conspiracy.
KALTEN: Is Stennis some dimwit foundling that he dances to a lousy priest's tune?! Olcan got what he deserved when Henselt cleaved his head. Now it's Stennis's time!
SILGRAT: There is no proof the prince agreed!
GERALT: The priest asked him for admittance to the kitchen.
KALTEN: So he didn't poison the Virgin himself, but allowed her to be poisoned.
GERALT: It appears Stennis would benefit the most from Saskia's death.
GERALT: Those are just words. Too much guesswork and not enough evidence. You can't convict anyone based on that.
[Stennis emerges from his rooms to confront the mob.]
SILGRAT: Your Highness... This is dangerous...
STENNIS: I am not afraid. Fear is a commoner's trait, unfit for one with royal blood running in his veins. What do you want? To judge me? Is a prince a common thief who steals a dozen eggs at the market?
STENNIS: You stand before royal majesty! And you raise your hands against it! In this world there are crimes that can be forgiven! And crimes that, by any means, cannot! Just as a mother killing her own child or a man slitting his own brother's throat cannot be forgiven... A crime against one anointed by the gods themselves also cannot be condoned! He who raises hand against divine right is not worthy to walk this world.
KALTEN: And what about he who poisons the Virgin of Aedirn?
STENNIS: Firstly, Saskia is alive, so no one can blame me for her death. Secondly, you have no proof that it was I who tried to murder her! And thirdly, I assure all gathered here, I won't rise above the law. However, only she, the Virgin of Aedirn, can judge me.
KALTEN: Canny! And if Saskia won't get well, who's gonna judge you?
STENNIS: I believe she can be cured. But if the gods decide otherwise, we'll summon a coven of the wise who can pass just sentence.
SILGRAT: Those are words worthy of a true sovereign!
STENNIS: I am the one you should look to for guidance. Let my deeds be the flame that lights up your darkness.
GERALT: So you've forgotten how you tried to bribe me when I was at your house?
KALTEN: How about that, snout-face?!
SILGRAT: This is slander!
STENNIS: There are no witnesses, witcher.
GERALT: You didn't say a word about your guilt or innocence. You demand justice, you want to summon a coven of the wise. But who will sit on that coven? Any peasants? No, only people you'll nominate yourself. Lords whom you'll reward with lands for reaching the right decision? Such men are to decide if you're guilty? No. You are guilty, Prince. You know you are.
GERALT: The prince has a right to a fair trial, no matter if he's guilty or not. We can't deny him that.
GERALT: What will the peasants do if we hand them the prince? Will they hear him out? No. They'll hang him from the nearest tree, or tear him limb from limb.
GERALT: What will happen if we allow a lynching? What if people see that might makes right? Who'll guarantee they won't desire to avenge their wrongs? Real and imagined... Who'll protect people whose only fault is noble birth from the exasperated mob? And where will it lead...?
[If Geralt advocates for a trial, two dwarves take Stennis away to prison; otherwise, the peasant mob beats him to death on the spot and Geralt collects a vial of royal blood from his corpse.]
IORVETH: The peasants are furious.
GERALT: They didn't dare mount a frontal attack.
IORVETH: But they haven't forgotten about Stennis. And won't. It'll be that way until Saskia regains consciousness.
GERALT: She won't keep order by strength alone.
IORVETH: Unless it's a great strength.
GERALT: We need an authority figure. And royal blood.
IORVETH: Five quarts go to waste in the dwarven dungeon at the moment.
GERALT: There's also Henselt.
IORVETH: Going into that haunted mist is madness. Stealing Stennis away would be easier.
GERALT: No. Anything involving Stennis will cause a riot.
IORVETH: I've had enough of the peasants and nobles barking. Saskia's the best leader I know, but she can't hope to defeat Henselt's army with this rabble. Which is why I'm going to get reinforcements.
GERALT: Where?
IORVETH: Four Scoia'tael units await in hiding to the east. Time to summon them.
GERALT: You'll make it in time?
IORVETH: I must.
GERALT: The nobles won't forgive them that.
IORVETH: They're a cowardly lot. Yelping's all they're good at.
GERALT: And backstabbing.
IORVETH: By Stennis's example. His filthy life wasn't taken in vain - Eilhart will get royal blood, and Saskia will be cured.
GERALT: We need to hurry, we can't keep peace in Vergen with strength alone.
IORVETH: Anything's possible using strength. One just has to know how to use it.
GERALT: That's your credo?
IORVETH: Saskia's the best leader I know, but she can't hope to defeat Henselt with this rabble.
GERALT: What do you intend to do?
IORVETH: I'll get reinforcements. The Scoia'tael are more numerous than you think. Time to summon them. I'll leave shortly.
GERALT: You won't get through the fog.
IORVETH: I don't intend to. Mountains may stop human armies, but not the Scoia'tael. I'm going south.
GERALT: Will you be back in time?
IORVETH: I have to. Va fail, Gwynbleidd. Don't lose hope.
[Geralt can have a conversation with Stennis in prison where he further discusses the crime (possibly unimplemented.)]
STENNIS: Have you come to humiliate me further?
GERALT: Give it a rest. Your feelings aren't exactly my biggest problem right now.
STENNIS: We've nothing more to discuss, witcher.
GERALT: I think I understand why you poisoned her. There's just one thing that still doesn't make sense.
GERALT: What did you really want to achieve? You know you couldn't take Saskia's place. These people would never follow you.
STENNIS: I'm next in line for the throne. My blood is royal blood.
GERALT: That's not enough. Though you've always sought it, you never actually gained recognition. None respected you - not your father, not the great families, not your subjects.
GERALT: You've hated Saskia since you first set eyes on her, because people loved her. That hurt more than all the other claims to the throne combined.
STENNIS: I trust you are nearing some conclusion?
GERALT: Mhm. I actually came here to thank you. You've made me realize something important.
GERALT: I've been wondering why the kingslayers murdered your father, yet didn't come after you. They didn't need to - it was evident you'd either never be crowned or bring about your own downfall. Someone sent those killers. Someone who knows you very well and knows people in general. That information is in itself priceless.
GERALT: This is where our paths diverge, Stennis. Farewell.
STENNIS: Get out.
[After dealing with Stennis, Geralt returns to Philippa to see what she found out about the bandana. He stops at her door and again hears moaning; he chuckles to himself and opens the door. This time, Cynthia is on all fours on the bed as Philippa uses a riding crop. They stop as Geralt comes in.]
PHILIPPA: I tried locating Triss, but the mist disrupts the megascope. There's a weak signal nearby. Probably on the other side...
GERALT: In the Kaedweni camp?
PHILIPPA: You'll have to pass through the mist.
GERALT: The mist is full of wraiths.
PHILIPPA: I'll help you.
GERALT: There's no time to lose.
PHILIPPA: I'm continuously scanning the battlefield, I'll show you the way through. I'll find you when you enter the mist.
GERALT: Farewell, then.
PHILIPPA: We still need royal blood...
GERALT: I know - Henselt.
PHILIPPA: We need his blood, not his death.
GERALT: How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a kingslayer.
[Geralt enters the mists from the Vergeni side. The owl swoops down from above.]
PHILIPPA: You're finally here. Ready?
GERALT: As I'll ever be. Let's go.
PHILIPPA: We'll speak when we get there. I shall cover you, but you must nevertheless be vigilant.
[Geralt and Philippa traverse the battlefield the same way they did when the curse arose, with Philippa providing a magical shield. They exit the mist on the Kaedweni side and she transforms back into her human form.]
PHILIPPA: I can go no further. If Dethmold senses my presence...
GERALT: How will I get back to Vergen?
PHILIPPA: I'll wait nearby. Hurry!
[Geralt heads towards Henselt's fortress. Still some distance away, he finds a corpse, which he crouches to examine. He finds a strange, Nilfgaardian-style figurine on the body, which he pockets. He stands up to see Vernon Roche and a Blue Stripe approaching him.]
ROCHE: I knew it... Damn! I knew it was you. When the mist started whirling, I told the boys - it's Geralt of Rivia or my name isn't Vernon Roche.
ROCHE: Friend of yours?
GERALT: Just found him. He was already dead.
ROCHE: Interesting. Dressed like a Vergeni... He almost made it through the fog. What's your business here?
GERALT: None of yours, Roche.
ROCHE: Is that so? When the Kaedweni realise you came from Vergen they'll cut you into shreds.
GERALT: Triss is somewhere nearby.
GERALT: Saskia's been poisoned. The antidote can't be made without a rose of remembrance. I came here to get one.
ROCHE: Dogs are at each others' throats even though a bear tests their bounds? No roses bloom here, Geralt. Tell the truth.
GERALT: I gave such a rose to Triss.
ROCHE: Still looking for your sorceress? If she came here I'd know about it.
GERALT: She's got to be here. Philippa Eilhart located her.
ROCHE: It seems you met the whole menagerie. Will you abandon them, too, when things get hot?
GERALT: In that case, you either know nothing, or you're lying.
ROCHE: Plough yourself, son of a bitch. I owe you nothing.
GERALT: Roche, it's really important. Only you can help me.
ROCHE: Now you want my help? I'll gladly return the favour... Oh, wait, you did nothing for me!
ROCHE: You made your choice. Fled with the elves, while Ves almost died at that whoreson Loredo's house!
GERALT: Is Ves all right?
ROCHE: What do you care? We could've all died while you played at being a Squirrel.
GERALT: I'm not one of your men, Roche. I didn't betray you.
ROCHE: I didn't say that.
GERALT: But you thought it. You and your men against the whole world. Those not on your side are against you.
GERALT: I refuse to explain myself – to you or anyone else.
ROCHE: You saved a group of thieves and bandits!
GERALT: Deride them if you will, but they're ready to die side by side with the simple people of Vergen. They've got better reasons to fight than orders.
ROCHE: Don't you care about Foltest's death any more?
GERALT: The assassin kidnapped Triss, remember? Help me find her and I promise I'll keep the word I gave you in the dungeons of La Valette Castle.
ROCHE: Argh. I don't know why I'm doing this.
ROCHE: Right, if Triss is anywhere in the area, it can only be one place. At the rear, near the riverbank, the Nilfgaardians have set up their camp. Nobody can enter it.
ROCHE: You can get there either via some caves or by sneaking through the main camp. I'd forget the gates... Believe it or not, the whorehouse is where you need to go to enter the caves. The ladies thought they'd use that passage to service the knights and nobles, but some monsters have their lairs there.
ROCHE: If you've had your fill of whores and monsters, to the east there's a path that leads along the riverbank. That'll get you near the canteen. You'll have to sneak the rest of the way from there.
GERALT: Thanks, Roche.
ROCHE: Hey! I'll hold you to your promise!
[Roche and his man leave. Geralt can either sneak through the camp as Roche suggests, or ask the brothel madame, Carole, about the cave passageway.]
CAROLE: Well, well, a witcher. Girls, prim yourselves! How can I help you, handsome?
GERALT: I wanted to talk.
CAROLE: We're no strangers to the art of conversation, but it'll cost you just as much as a good plough.
GERALT: Sounds all right.
CAROLE: Ask away, then. What would you like to talk about?
CAROLE: That'll cost you more than straight ploughing.
GERALT: Thanks.
CAROLE: Although we've not used it for some time. There's something down there, something evil, horrible.
GERALT: I'm sure I'll manage.
CAROLE: The entrance is inside the tent.
[If Geralt goes through the caves, it turns out the evil presence is a pack of rotfiends and bullvores. Either way, he arrives at the Nilfgaardian camp, where he's stopped by a guard.]
GUARD: Evgyr, Nordling! Where do you think you're going?
GERALT: To see the ambassador.
GUARD: With all that steel on your back?
GERALT: Have you seen a redheaded sorceress anywhere?
GUARD: You didn't seem to understand my delicate suggestion, Nordling. Drop your sword.
GERALT: I'm here for Triss Merigold.
GERALT: I'm not looking for trouble.
GUARD: Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen is waiting.
[The guard brings Geralt to Shilard's tent.]
SHILARD: Met nare ravnewaart, hetmel.
SHILARD: Geralt! I'd hoped we wouldn't meet again.
GUARD 1: We caught him sneaking through the camp, Excellency. We disarmed him.
GUARD 2: Ester garemnyth.
GUARD 1: He tried a charm on us.
SHILARD: I remember you telling Foltest you'd like to return to hunting monsters.
GERALT: Triss Merigold was kidnapped.
SHILARD: Foltest's advisor? I heard she arrived at Vergen and hoped we would meet, but if she was kidnapped... Now I understand why you couldn't just stand by. But there are other reasons, too.
GERALT: Foltest is dead. Some still believe it's my fault. I have to find the real killer.
SHILARD: I see. You may be a killing machine, but a murderer's infamy is bad for business.
GERALT: It's not like that. Now it's personal.
SHILARD: Ah! Of course, that changes things. It seems, however, that something more is at stake.
GERALT: Why are you so interested in me?
SHILARD: They told me you were in league with the Scoia'tael. With Iorveth himself, no less... Is this true?
GERALT: More or less.
SHILARD: Have you heard of the slaughter of Aen Seidhe at the Ravine of the Hydra? The kings of the North effectively forced the Empire to condemn and execute the war criminals of the Vrihedd Brigade. Iorveth was among those condemned.
GERALT, NARRATING: September 13, 1269 – The Ravine of the Hydra. Following the Peace of Cintra, 53 officers of the Vrihedd Brigade were brought here and executed, their throats cut. The elves’ bodies were dropped into the chasm. I don’t know what the riders of the Hunt were looking for.
SHILARD: Amusing that the Scoia'tael believe the Emperor betrayed them. In fact, the kings of the North demanded the massacre at the Ravine of the Hydra. Do you feel well?
GERALT: I feel fine.
SHILARD: I'm sorry, I can't give you more of my time. The long road to Loc Muinne awaits me. The Council and the Conclave are waiting, and Triss Merigold, as always, arrives in the nick of time.
GERALT: What are you talking about?
SHILARD: The figurine. He must have it on him.
[The guards grab Geralt and tie his hands behind his back.]
GERALT: What's the meaning of this?!
SHILARD: I want to introduce someone to you. This is Vanhemar, my personal sorcerer. He sensed Triss approaching our camp, though she was to arrive in different company.
[The Nilfgaardians find the figurine on Geralt and give it to Shilard. He smashes it to reveal a tiny figure of Triss inside.]
SHILARD: Before you die, witcher... Would you be so kind as to explain how you got your hands on this figurine?
GERALT: I found it on a man's corpse.
SHILARD: And you finished his mission. For the Emperor's glory.
GERALT: Triss! What have you done to her?
SHILARD: She'll be all right, Geralt. She can't hear, see or feel, but she is alive.
GERALT: If you hurt her, I'll find you. Even in Nilfgaard.
SHILARD: Triss will help us find those wenches that betrayed the Empire. I don't know whether you killed Tarvik or found him dead. It's irrelevant now.
SHILARD: I'd prefer not to sentence to death a man previously pardoned by the Emperor himself. Unfortunately, I have no choice.
SHILARD: Vanhemar, once you're done with him, convey my congratulations to Cynthia. Leading Philippa Eilhart up the garden path is no small feat.
SHILARD: Farewell, witcher.
[Geralt watches the Nilfgaardians depart in their ship. Vanhemar and a guard stand over him.]
VANHEMAR: This is a good place. Are you ready, Geralt of Rivia?
GERALT: I am.
VANHEMAR: I'd prefer to face you in combat, but that cannot be arranged.
GERALT: Plough yourself, Nilfgaardian.
VANHEMAR: Your words mean nothing now.
[Vanhemar raises Geralt's steel sword, preparing to execute him, when the guard behind him falls to a crossbow bolt. Geralt looks up to see Ves and Roche fighting Nilfgaardians; he headbutts the mage, knocking him over, and incapacitates him with a kick to the face. Roche comes and cuts him loose; the three of them kill the Nilfgaardians remaining in the camp.]
ROCHE: Just like the good old days... Haven't killed a Nilfgaardian for years! I knew you'd get in trouble.
GERALT: You've a talent for getting me out of it.
GERALT: Shilard has Triss. He's taking her to Loc Muinne.
ROCHE: Now I understand the commotion. Ambassador Shilard kidnaps Foltest's former advisor... This stinks horribly, Geralt. It would seem the Nilfgaardians want to be present at the Conclave's restoration.
GERALT: What will happen at Loc Muinne?
ROCHE: Apparently, a lot more than I thought.
GERALT: Destination Loc Muinne, then.
ROCHE: I should have known.
GERALT: Only Triss can lead us to the kingslayer. I need to save her.
ROCHE: Not only her, Geralt... All the other leads point to the same place.
ROCHE: Sile managed to locate the killers' hideout. They were hiding nearby, in the gullies. Dethmold sent his men there, but Foltest's killer fled. Two other witchers were covering him. One was taken alive. Before he died from torture, he revealed that our bruiser went to Loc Muinne.
ROCHE: The mages want to resurrect the Council and the Conclave that once represented all the sorcerers and sorceresses of the North.
ROCHE: King Radovid, the ruler of Redania, is also invited. As Loc Muinne lies in Kaedwen, Henselt is likely to arrive, too. But a Nilfgaardian delegation...?
ROCHE: Triss, Nilfgaard, Radovid, a bunch of mages and the kingslayer... too many eggs in that basket.
GERALT: One more thing, Roche.
[The paths diverge here depending on whether Stennis is alive or dead.]
GERALT: I need to see Henselt.
ROCHE: Why?
GERALT: I need a few drops of Henselt's blood. Someone poisoned Saskia's wine, and his blood is an ingredient of the cure.
ROCHE: Saskia's a rebel, a wench from who knows where. She only speaks of knightly honour...
GERALT: Says Vernon Roche, blue-blooded prince, heir of Temeria...
ROCHE: All right... enough. Ah, plough it!
GERALT: You think I want to kill him?
[Continues the same as "Saskia will die without his blood."]
ROCHE: I hope I won't regret it. Henselt should be in his tent. I'll distract the guards, then it's up to you.
GERALT: I owe you, Vernon.
ROCHE: That's not even funny anymore, Geralt.
ROCHE: So, ready?
GERALT: Let's go, Roche.
[Geralt and Roche approach the first set of guards; Geralt hides behind a bunch of crates.]
ROCHE: Hey, you! Come over here!
GUARD: What do you want, Temerian?
ROCHE: Those Nilfgaardians are beating up our lads!
GUARD: What? Whoresons will regret that!
[Geralt sneaks around to the back of the royal tent; he uses Aard on a stack of barrels to distract the guards in front.]
GUARD 1: What the devil happened here?
GUARD 2: Henselt will skin us alive!
[Geralt gets into Henselt's tent and sneaks up behind the king, putting his sword to his neck.]
HENSELT: Who are...? Have you come to kill me?
GERALT: Since I'm here, perhaps I should think about it.
HENSELT: You wouldn't dare.
GERALT: I'm here for your blood.
HENSELT: You sneak in here like a villain and you want my blood? Fight me and try to spill it.
GERALT: Calm down, Your Highness. I need only a drop.
HENSELT: Who are you?
GERALT: Geralt of Rivia.
HENSELT: Foltest's favourite witcher, I've heard of you.
GERALT: Someone holding a sword to your throat, Your Highness.
HENSELT: Why do you need my blood?
GERALT: Saskia, the Virgin of Aedirn, was poisoned. Royal blood is one of the antidote's ingredients.
HENSELT: What superstitious nonsense! The wench wants royal blood? She should bite Stennis, Aedirn's heir, in the arse!
GERALT: That, Sire, doesn't concern you. My hand is numb, so I could end up with an excess of your blood.
HENSELT: If you kill me, you won't leave the camp alive.
GERALT: Listen, Your Highness. Give me your blood voluntarily, or I'll open your veins myself. I prefer the first choice - it would work out better for both of us. If I spill your blood myself, I'll have to break through the entire camp again. Who knows, maybe one of your soldiers will get lucky and kill me.
HENSELT: I sincerely hope so, satchel-mouth!
GERALT: But then, the wraiths' mist will hang on the border until your knights become weary of warring.
HENSELT: What are you talking about? You know how to open the way for my army?
GERALT: Yes, but I can't do it dead.
HENSELT: You'll get my blood... But promise you'll disperse the mist.
GERALT: You have my word, King.
[Geralt lets Henselt go, and the king slits his own palm and provides Geralt a small bottle of his blood.]
HENSELT: Remember our deal.
HENSELT: My men will lead you out of the camp. I wouldn't want one of the soldiers to "get lucky."
HENSELT: Tell me though - how did you pass the mist?
GERALT: I'm a witcher.
HENSELT: Then I need an army of ploughing witchers.
[Henselt's guards escort Geralt to the border of the camp.]
GERALT: I have to go back to Vergen. Philippa may know something more about Triss.
ROCHE: It won't be easy. The camp's in uproar. I bet you mauled somebody while breaking through to Shilard.
GERALT: Could be.
ROCHE: Right. We'll pretend you're my prisoner. I'll get you out of here, but remember - our goal is Foltest's killer.
GERALT: I'll remember, Roche.
ROCHE: So, ready?
GERALT: Let's go, Roche.
[Geralt and Roche head into the main part of the camp with Geralt's hands tied.]
GERALT: I'm not sure it'll work...
ROCHE: If we just avoid the officers.
[They are stopped at the gate of the camp.]
SOLDIER: Who goes there?!
ROCHE: Vernon Roche, I've got a prisoner.
SOLDIER: What kind of freak is he?
ROCHE: The King ordered him questioned. Outside the camp.
SOLDIER: Outside, eh? Ha-ha... Don't let me keep you, then.
ROCHE: We should be safe here.
GERALT: Thanks for everything, Vernon. I owe you.
ROCHE: You never ceased to owe me. Remember my proposal...
[Roche heads back towards the Blue Stripes' camp.]
[Geralt returns to where Philippa is waiting.]
PHILIPPA: Finally, you're back! Where is Triss?
GERALT: The Nilfgaardians have taken her to Loc Muinne.
PHILIPPA: What?
GERALT: They cast a spell on her. Turned her into a figurine.
PHILIPPA: Artifact compression. They must have a powerful mage.
GERALT: They had.
PHILIPPA: Without him, Shilard won't be able to lift the spell. However, Loc Muinne will be full of sorcerers...
GERALT: That's not all. They got Triss because of Cynthia.
PHILIPPA: Cynthia?
GERALT: She lied to you.
PHILIPPA: Back to Vergen. At once.
[Geralt and Philippa cross the mists again. He meets her in her quarters in Vergen; she is furious.]
PHILIPPA: The plague! I was so foolish! Cherish this rare moment, witcher. Philippa Eilhart's been had by a cheap Nilfgaardian bitch! When I find her we'll have it out like never before. She'll regret her mother didn't abort her.
GERALT: Wait! The rose of remembrance is gone.
PHILIPPA: Not necessarily. That viper, Cynthia, was in a hurry and left her bric-a-brac... Ah, yes, here it is - Triss Merigold's rose of remembrance. Time is running out, Geralt. This flower is dying.
GERALT: Then what are we waiting for?
[Geralt gives Philippa all the ingredients she asked for.]
GERALT: Your turn, sorceress. I have all you need to cure Saskia.
PHILIPPA: Let's get to work.
[Geralt and Philippa go to Saskia's house, where the Scoia'tael have been guarding her.]
PHILIPPA: Scoia'tael, stand aside.
[Inside Saskia's quarters, Philippa administers a glowing blue potion to the unconscious woman, then injects her with a hypodermic before casting a spell. Geralt, a dwarf, and the two Scoia'tael guards look on. Finally, Philippa kisses Saskia with a petal from the rose held between her lips.]
DWARF: My favorite type of magic – Lesbomancy.
[Philippa steps away, and Saskia sits up.]
PHILIPPA: What is your name?
SASKIA: Saesenthe...
PHILIPPA: What do they call you?
SASKIA: Saskia...
PHILIPPA: Do you remember what happened?
SASKIA: Poison. They poisoned me... What day is it? What of the battle? Henselt and his army?
PHILIPPA: Calm yourself, you will have your battle yet. I shall go and announce that you're once again among the living.
SASKIA: Do I owe you my life?
GERALT: And Philippa.
SASKIA: Thank you, Geralt. I promise to return the favor. Have you succeeded in lifting the curse?
GERALT: No, but we're almost ready to try. Vandergrift's sword – it's one of the conveyors of the Power...
SASKIA: You should have taken it. It's scrap iron to me – a sword like any other.
GERALT: The Scoia'tael wouldn't let anyone but Philippa near you. And they wouldn't have let even her take your famous sword. I'll try to remove the curse soon.
SASKIA: Why do you aid me?
GERALT: I'd like to say I'm doing it for you, for a cause... But the truth is far less lofty. A certain elf prophesied that I'd recover my memory during this battle.
SASKIA: I had no idea you believed in prophecies.
GERALT: I don't. But I also don't have a choice. I need to try. If my amnesia was magically induced, the elf's prophecy is just common sense.
GERALT: When I lift the curse, a shock wave will roll across the battlefield, a wave of pure, uncontrolled Power looking for an outlet. As soon as it finds one, a strong field of antimagic will arise. Who knows what might happen to someone subjected to these extreme conditions, but something's gotta give. I'm fresh out of alternatives.
GERALT: Let's say it’s a question of ideals – I espouse the same ones you do.
SASKIA: You may yet prove a revolutionary.
GERALT: No, not bloodthirsty enough. Speaking of which... ever stopped to wonder that all your commanders are natural born killers?
SASKIA: It has crossed my mind. The truth is, many find peace far harder to bear than war.
GERALT: Can I ask you a personal question?
SASKIA: Mhm.
GERALT: How did you get caught up in this?
SASKIA: It's the way I was raised. I should say, it's how my father raised me. My mother died in childbirth. I knew my father – or at least, bits and pieces of him. He was a little like you – never wore out his welcome...
SASKIA: But he did succeed in teaching me two things: honor, and how to be free. My choice was to spit on those ideals or to fight.
GERALT: I'm a witcher. Curses are my hobby.
SASKIA: I see, the famous neutrality...
GERALT: That, too. Besides which, I don't believe any revolution can ultimately be successful. A very important rule: no ideal is worth dying for.
SASKIA: I understand. Good luck with the curse. And thank you again.
SASKIA: Good luck, witcher. We await your return.
[With Vandergrift's sword received from Saskia, Geralt goes to ask Philippa for the last two artifacts needed to lift the curse.]
GERALT: I'm ready to lift the curse. I've got all the artifacts.
PHILIPPA: Get to work then, witcher.
GERALT: I'll need your help. I need to find the right ghosts, somehow.
PHILIPPA: They will find you. The aura of the artifacts will lure them. Let them think, speak and act. Then you'll know what to do.
PHILIPPA: Geralt, there is something else out there... I scanned the battlefield and noticed The Visitor's ghost. It's different from the others - it has changed.
GERALT: A draug. I expected as much.
PHILIPPA: Good luck, witcher.
[Geralt enters the mist. One of the specters possesses him.]
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 1: It's warm...
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 2: A lovely autumn. I bet the fruit is plentiful.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 1: We won't be the ones pickin' it.
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: You'll be picking enemy heads. Today.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 1: No reason to wait. Slaughter the Kaedweni mutts!
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: Wait! The time's not right.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 2: Sometimes I forget what we're fighting for.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 3: Powerful kings have no choice but to wage wars.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 2: Then why don't Demavend and Henselt duel to settle things?! My brother-in-law is from Kaedwen. A decent fellow.
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 3: Once I was at a market there. Quality goods - cheaper than our merchants', too.
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: Bloody hell, shut it! Every Kaedweni is a bastard! Do you know what they'll do to our women if we lose this battle?!
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 1: Have you forgotten that they've come to pillage, burn and steal our land?! Are we to give it away?!
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 3: Whoresons' seed! At 'em!
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: No! Wait for the signal!
AEDIRNIAN SOLDIER 3: There's no time to lose!
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: Silence! Archers! Light your arrows! Aim at the first ditch!
[The arrows fly.]
AEDIRNIAN OFFICER: Get them! Capture the enemy standard!
[Across the field, a draug made of the enemy's standard bearer assembles itself. Geralt, in the form of the Aedirnian soldier, defeats it. The ghost leaves him, and a Kaedweni ghost possesses him next.]
KAEDWENI OFFICER: The standard's in enemy hands! We're sitting ducks here! You need to tell the commander we were ambushed. We can't hold without reinforcements!
KAEDWENI SOLDIER: I'm to tell him?!
KAEDWENI OFFICER: No, Princess Syphilis! Move it, imbecile, before they slaughter us to a man!
KAEDWENI SOLDIER: I shan't make it... First battle... Killed my first man... Got blood on my hands...
[Arrows rain down on the Kaedweni soldiers.]
KAEDWENI OFFICER: Take cover! They're shooting!
KAEDWENI OFFICER: Run, you fool! Deliver the message!
[Geralt, in the form of the soldier, runs across the battlefield to the commander.]
KAEDWENI OFFICER: Cease shooting! He's one of ours!
[Geralt approaches a massive draug, created from the ghost of Vandergrift, the Visitor.]
GERALT: My Lord, the leader of the Dun Banner sent me. We were ambushed! We can't hold!
VANDERGRIFT: Weren't your scouts keenly watching the battlefield, captain?
KAEDWENI SOLDIER: Yes, sir! They must have dug those ditches in the night, the field was clear by day. Lady Glevissig scanned it with her magic during the night.
VANDERGRIFT: Ten lashes to each scout, hang every third one.
GERALT: My lord, we need support.
VANDERGRIFT: There will be no reinforcements. You must hold. And you, Glevissig... I'll settle this after the battle. The King will learn of your incompetence.
SABRINA: Battles are won or lost by the commanders, not by sorceresses. Remember, I'll make a report, too, and...
VANDERGRIFT: I've finished talking to you, witch. Time to win this battle. My Lords, to your banners! We enter the fray!
SABRINA: Maybe you've finished with me, but that doesn't mean I've finished with you.
[The soldier's ghost releases Geralt, and he watches as Sabrina steps away and casts a spell, planting her staff in the ground.]
SABRINA: Nadovessiveg.
[Philippa, Síle, and two other sorceresses manifest.]
PHILIPPA: How can we help you, Sabrina?
SABRINA: My place at Henselt's court is threatened. Furthermore, if Vandergrift wins the battle, nothing will stop Henselt from taking Upper Aedirn.
PHILIPPA: The balance of power in the North will be upset. What do you intend?
SABRINA: I shall summon Melgar's Fire to the battlefield. It will kill Vandergrift and weaken both sides.
PHILIPPA: Any use of unconventional weapons may be severely censured.
SABRINA: I'm aware of that.
PHILIPPA: Henselt's hegemony is counter to the Lodge's plans. We will help you, but remember... in the event that you fail, you'll be on your own.
SABRINA: I am ready.
[The ghost of Seltkirk dispatches a Kaedweni soldier.]
SELTKIRK: That's all you've got?! You're dying fast, like roaches under my boot! Is there a Kaedweni to match Seltkirk of Gulet on this field?!
[Seltkirk's ghost possesses Geralt. He fights his way through Kaedweni wraiths until he reaches an open field where the Kaedweni standard bearer awaits. Geralt tears free from the ghost's influence.]
SELTKIRK: The Visitor! I've long awaited this meeting.
GERALT: Leave, ghost.
SELTKIRK: I'll not give up an opportunity to duel Vandergrift.
GERALT: He will kill you.
SELTKIRK: Seltkirk does not fear death.
GERALT: When you die, your soldiers will die every day afterwards. Forever... Leave! This is a task for a witcher, not a knight.
SELTKIRK: I do this solely for my men.
[Seltkirk leaves, and Geralt defeats the standard bearer.]
KAEDWENI STANDARD BEARER: Mercy...
VANDERGRIFT: You have failed me.
GERALT: Who are you?
VANDERGRIFT: Hah! Your nightmare!
[Geralt defeats the draug. Around the battlefield, Sabrina's meteors begin to fall.]
SELTKIRK: Should have stayed at home, Vandergrift. Cursed mages! To die after such a victory! Gods! We can't fight such sorcery.
CHREST: It's sorcerous hail! Unclean fire! We're doomed!
KAEDWENI SOLDIER 1: Why are they doing this?!
CHREST: As the prophecy sayeth, "And the time will come when sorceresses turn on men, flaming balls rain from the sky and destruction will be unleashed!"
KAEDWENI SOLDIER 2: What should we do? Wait here for death?!
CHREST: I shall lead you, as a shepherd leads his flock, safely from the dark abyss!
[Reverend Chrest's ghost possesses Geralt. He leads the Kaedweni soldiers to King Henselt's position near the edge of the mist.]
CHREST: Stop firing! Our men are dying! A massacre! Save us, Sire!
HENSELT: Sabrina, is that your work?
SABRINA: Order your troops forward, Your Majesty. The Aedirnian army is routed.
HENSELT: Not only the Aedirnian. Look at that terrified horde - this very morning they were the finest of my knights.
SABRINA: They'll make it if they're reinforced.
HENSELT: Who allowed you to use magic?
SABRINA: Sire, if you strike now, Lormark will be yours!
HENSELT: You've tainted my honor, brought death to dozens of knights...
SABRINA: Sire, the battle was lost...
HENSELT: You put me to shame before Demavend. His troops fought like men of honor should - to the end. Sabrina Glevissig, I sentence you to death. You shall burn at the stake.
HENSELT: I will return to claim my birthright...
[Geralt experiences a flashback.
GERALT, NARRATING: July 25, 1270 – The forests of Angren. "No mighty mortal, no heap of meat or strongman can parry the strike of the slyzard's tail..." Letho couldn’t either, but by some miracle, he survived. I helped him. After all, witchers on the Path should help each other. The Hunt continued south, and Letho of Gulet knew where it was going. He had two comrades, brother witchers from the School of the Viper. He knew where the hellish chase would end.]
[Geralt awakens in Philippa's quarters.]
PHILIPPA: You're finally awake.
GERALT: Am I dead or hallucinating?
PHILIPPA: You wouldn't meet me in the beyond.
GERALT: I don't remember coming here.
PHILIPPA: Because you didn't. Don't forget, we sorceresses have our ways.
GERALT: In that case, thanks for your help.
PHILIPPA: You're too valuable to let die. You did the impossible. I don't know anyone who could deal with such a powerful curse.
GERALT: Neither do I.
GERALT: You never said I'd face certain death.
PHILIPPA: I never stopped believing in you.
GERALT: I can't wait for people in every village to start recounting tales of my heroic deeds.
PHILIPPA: Now tell me everything that happened.
GERALT: I can't remember, either how I left the mist, or what happened within.
GERALT: I saw Henselt sentencing Sabrina to death. I killed the draug...
PHILIPPA: You must have, since the curse is gone.
GERALT: I saw Vandergrift... I saw a rain of fireballs and death all around me. Everywhere.
PHILIPPA: Henselt is a criminal. He used the circumstances to kill Sabrina. He hated her.
GERALT: That's why you sided with Aedirn? For vengeance?
PHILIPPA: It's not about vengeance, it's about a better world. A world without Henselts.
GERALT: That's utopia.
PHILIPPA: Passing through such a concentrated mass of the Power opens the mind.
GERALT: Cedric was right. The Power of the wraiths' battle restores memory.
PHILIPPA: And what have you recalled?
GERALT: Letho... Foltest's murderer. I saved him once, and he helped me find the Wild Hunt. I just don't know if we managed to save Yennefer.
PHILIPPA: Did you learn anything else about the Hunt?
GERALT: When I killed the King of the Hunt, I killed a wraith... In my memories, I fight the Hunt's riders... Blood flows from their wounds, and they cry out in pain.
PHILIPPA: Which means you do not yet know all.
GERALT: Not to worry - I will.
PHILIPPA: You lifted the curse, but there's no time to rest. Henselt's army will attack at any moment.
GERALT: How's Saskia feeling?
PHILIPPA: Completely recovered. She can't wait to deal with Henselt. She will personally command the defense of Vergen. She's in her element.
GERALT: A siege can't be her element if she never faced one.
PHILIPPA: You underestimate her. Keep in mind she's got allies: a famous witcher and... me.
GERALT: Perhaps I helped Henselt and put Aedirn in danger by lifting the curse, but I had no other choice.
PHILIPPA: Sometimes you need to amputate the leg to save the body.
GERALT: Time to decide the outcome of this war.
PHILIPPA: High time. Zoltan and Yarpen are setting up the troops. They're waiting for you.
[Geralt heads to the main gate where the dwarves are preparing.]
SASKIA: Zoltan, prepare the main gate's defenses. I'll cover the wall.
ZOLTAN: The defense will be so strong, Henselt's stick will go limp.
ZOLTAN: Let's get on those walls, lads! The Kaedweni are coming. We'll greet them in a neighborly manner.
GERALT: You're quite the general, Zoltan.
ZOLTAN: Why not call me a bloody marshal?! Saskia's got it into her head it's either me or Yarpen. We drew straws and I lost.
ZOLTAN: It's good you're up. Henselt will be here any minute.
GERALT: Why? Would he be disappointed not to see me?
ZOLTAN: He'd be bloody depressed!
GERALT: How are preparations to greet our visitors going?
ZOLTAN: Have no fear. We'll give 'em a taste of what's due to anyone who's as welcome as warts on the arse. We'll give them a royal welcome. The dwarves are eager for a scuffle.
GERALT: Henselt's experienced at waging wars, too.
ZOLTAN: Experienced my arse! Once they stand beneath the walls, we'll douse them in hot oil and set them ablaze.
ZOLTAN: Just do your part, and Kaedweni heads will fly like fattened horseflies.
[The camera shifts, showing a unit of Kaedweni soldiers charging towards Vergen's main entrance.]
DWARF: The Kaedweni are coming!
ZOLTAN: They multiplied or what?
GERALT: Time to give them a taste of hot oil.
ZOLTAN: There are valves on the cauldrons' sides. You need to clear them. I'll take the left side, you get the right.
[Geralt heads up onto the walls towards the valves, fighting Kaedweni soldiers as he goes.]
ZOLTAN: Hurry up, Geralt! If we don't cover them in oil, they'll cover us with their Kaedweni arses!
ZOLTAN: Aaaargh! Come on!
GERALT: Together!
ZOLTAN: All right, it's done!
GERALT: That hot oil was a great idea!
ZOLTAN: Well... Now they'll sear a bit!
GERALT: They sure won't feel cold.
ZOLTAN: They fry up lovely!
[Geralt returns to Zoltan. Behind the barricade, Dethmold is visible at the head of the advancing unit. He blasts through the barricade with a spell.]
ZOLTAN: Fall back behind the second gate or they'll kill us to a man!
GERALT: Fall back!
[Geralt and the Vergeni fall back to the inner gates; Sheldon closes the gates behind them.]
ZOLTAN: Stop farting around. To the walls, like a shot!
GERALT: At once, brave leader!
[Geralt and Zoltan join Saskia on the walls.]
SASKIA: Hold the lines!
SASKIA: Show them how Aedirnian soldiers fight!
SHELDON: Upper Aedirn!
DWARF: Saskiaaaa!
[The Kaedwenis bring ladders to the walls; Geralt and the Vergeni forces repel a wave of soldiers coming up.]
ZOLTAN: We repelled those Kaedweni rags!
GERALT: They won't give up easily.
ZOLTAN: They'll return if they're thick as bricks! To find bricks falling on their heads!
SASKIA: Another assault is coming! Get ready!
SASKIA: The day will be ours! It must be!
[The wall defenders defeat another wave of soldiers.]
ZOLTAN: Well... it wasn't easy, but seeing those ruffians run was worth the effort.
GERALT: They'll be back. They're as stubborn as a dwarven farmer.
ZOLTAN: Huh. But their balls are much smaller!
[Saskia approaches Geralt.]
SASKIA: I need your help, witcher.
GERALT: I'm hearing that more often lately.
SASKIA: Seems you're irreplaceable. Listen, tunnels run beneath the town and connect the keep with the dwarven mines.
GERALT: Who knows about them?
SASKIA: Almost no one, but I decided to secure them anyway and sent a detachment of scouts. None of them returned.
GERALT: If Henselt discovered the passage, he's got us.
ZOLTAN: A bloody gentle way to put it!
SASKIA: If they attack from two sides, we won't hold the fortress.
GERALT: Then I'll take a little excursion beyond the town walls.
ZOLTAN: Now's the perfect time. Henselt's men lick their wounds like flogged bitches.
SASKIA: They'll need about an hour to regroup troops and set up formation for another assault. Let's not waste time. I'll come with you.
GERALT: You shouldn't go. It's too dangerous.
SASKIA: I thought you more keen. Since when do I avoid danger? The defenses are well prepared. Everyone knows their task. Besides, we'll make it in time...
GERALT: I'd rather you assigned me an able troop of men.
SASKIA: I won't reform ranks now. This formation is effective. If they don't strike suddenly from the mines, we should hold through the siege.
GERALT: You're in charge. Lead on.
[Saskia and Geralt head towards the tunnel.]
SASKIA: You surprise me more and more. I thought witchers stayed out of politics.
GERALT: I'm not interested in politics.
SASKIA: Yet you stand on our side.
GERALT: I stand on Zoltan's side... Yarpen's...
SASKIA: Would you join them if they fought under a Kaedweni banner?
GERALT: No dwarf would fight for Henselt.
SASKIA: Let's hurry!
[Geralt and Saskia enter the tunnel.]
GERALT: I'll take the lead. Stay behind me, Saskia.
SASKIA: A chivalrous witcher? Another surprise...
GERALT: The world's upside down.
[Geralt and Saskia find mercenaries in the tunnels; they fight their way through several groups of them before coming upon a final group led by Dethmold.]
DETHMOLD: If that's so, you'll be richly rewarded.
EVALD: My information is certain. I won't disappoint you.
DETHMOLD: You'd better not. Or you'll lose your head.
DETHMOLD: Vergen is in danger and the Virgin of Aedirn roams the caves with a witcher! I understand... your cherry is aching and thoughts turned to pleasure before death!
DETHMOLD: Kill them.
[Saskia and Geralt clash with Dethmold's men. Dethmold hits Geralt with a firebolt that incapacitates him. Saskia gasps and begins to glow unearthly white, then transforms into a dragon. Dethmold flees into a portal and Saskia's dragon form dispatches the remaining mercenaries. Geralt manages to get to his feet as Saskia transforms back.]
GERALT: I know a woman is flighty. But to that scale?
SASKIA: Now you know my greatest secret. I had no choice - they would've killed you.
GERALT: Now I understand how you could combat such a powerful toxin.
SASKIA: Philippa is a great sorceress.
GERALT: Even she couldn't have saved you if you were human.
SASKIA: You're a witcher, so you know a lot about us.
GERALT: Only golden dragons have the power to assume any form.
SASKIA: My father was a knight with bright eyes. He treated life like a beautiful adventure. He loved humans and tried to understand them. Thanks to him, I believe every man is equal and liberty shouldn't be peddled. Father claimed the world to be filled with chaos and order. Chaos equals aggression, order is the defense against it.
GERALT: What happened to him?
SASKIA: He taught me to live among humans and moved on. Dragons do that.
GERALT: A dragon appeared during the siege of the La Valettes' castle...
SASKIA: I was helping Aryan La Valette.
GERALT: Why?
SASKIA: He fought against tyranny and its transgressions. I understood him very well. Vergen could have used someone like him.
GERALT: Does anyone else know?
SASKIA: Dethmold.
GERALT: I meant allies. Iorveth...?
SASKIA: Iorveth invented the whole 'Dragonslayer' story. He believes Aedirn needs someone like me. And someone like me needs a legend. He was right.
GERALT: If a dragon helped Vergen's defenders... Henselt wouldn't stand a chance.
SASKIA: I thought about that. But what would happen to Upper Aedirn when the dust settles?
GERALT: You'd have to leave.
SASKIA: Yes. The people of Aedirn know me as the Dragonslayer. That's why they respect me. Maybe not the only reason, but if they learned I'm a dragon, they'd feel betrayed.
GERALT: They'd have a point.
SASKIA: I didn't want to deceive anyone. And then it was just too late...
GERALT: But if Vergen falls, your ideals will be vanquished. Maybe averting that is worth the sacrifice?
GERALT: You can't foresee everything.
SASKIA: You know how the world treats freaks as well as I do.
GERALT: But if Vergen falls, your ideals will be vanquished. Maybe averting that is worth the sacrifice?
SASKIA: Let's, for a moment, assume I revealed my dual nature. Who would lead Upper Aedirn? Do you see a replacement for me?
GERALT: It's hard to imagine one that compares to you.
SASKIA: Dwarves will support their own candidate, elves theirs, and humans will start looking for a king. That's why I must ask you to keep this knowledge to yourself. We'll have to deal with Henselt without a dragon's help.
SASKIA: And we will. Also thanks to you. I'll never forget what you're doing for Aedirn, no matter your reasons, witcher.
GERALT: Let's go. The defenders need you.
[Geralt and Saskia leave the tunnels, where they find Zoltan waiting for them.]
SASKIA: What happened while I was gone, Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: The fun is about to begin. Herdsman Henselt personally leads all his cattle here.
SASKIA: We'll win. Is that all?
ZOLTAN: Ah... We've got unexpected guests.
SASKIA: Who?
ZOLTAN: I think one of them's a she. Ugly like shite after winter, but she's got tits. You should have seen our lads' faces when those eyesores entered the courtyard.
SASKIA: Did they say why they want to help us?
ZOLTAN: Wizer good. Wizer's foe is troll's foe.
GERALT: I met this pair. They can be of use.
SASKIA: Good! We want to create a land without prejudice.
ZOLTAN: You won't believe it. Pangratt and his cutthroats offered to help us.
GERALT: Can we afford them?
SASKIA: I won't turn down any help, especially from a hero of Brenna, but my coffer's empty.
ZOLTAN: I was bloody surprised, but they don't want any money!
SASKIA: Even better, then. And worse for Henselt.
ZOLTAN: When news that Henselt will personally lead the assault spread, the spirit of our lads fell into the gutter.
GERALT: Tell them, Zoltan, that if they don't believe in victory, they might as well fly a white flag.
ZOLTAN: I tried, but they still look down.
SASKIA: Gather the defenders, Zoltan.
[Back on the walls, Vergen's forces look despondent. Saskia addresses them.]
SASKIA: Why so quiet?! I thought you'd be merry! King Henselt himself will honor us with a visit!
DWARF 1: We're all gonna die...
HUMAN: We can't repel the attack!
SCOIA'TAEL: Henselt is invincible...
SASKIA: We won't be fighting mere minions, but their King! And the King himself will have to recognize our victory! Could a soldier dream of better than defeating a monarch?!
SASKIA: Or maybe you're afraid to fight? Maybe we should fly a white flag? It's so simple... Henselt will quickly set up his order here.
SASKIA: Inns will be marked 'Humans only'. Dwarves will choke in the mines, elves will perish, hunted in the forests! Lords will slaughter peasants because they didn't bow low enough!
SASKIA: Is that the land you want to leave to your children?!
DWARF 2: No!
HUMAN: Never!
SASKIA: You're shitting bricks because Henselt is coming! Who is he?! A god?!
SASKIA: No... He has arms... Legs... And blood. As red as any of ours! If he dares to cross these walls... Then we'll gladly spill some of it!
DWARF 3: Yes!
DWARF 1: Get Henselt!
SCOIA'TAEL: Long live Saskia!
SASKIA: Many of you won't see the light of dawn again. Many won't return to your women or drink with friends. But we will care for and honor their graves when they enter the earth. Aedirnian earth! Those who survive will live with their heads held high! For only such a life makes sense!
SASKIA: Now, to arms and to the walls! Let's show Henselt real war!
[The defenders cheer. Below the walls, Dethmold begins building a fireball, which he casts at Vergen's gate.]
ZOLTAN: They're coming! Let's kick a few more Kaedweni arses!
GERALT: Henselt will pay dearly for this siege.
HENSELT: Men of Kaedwen! Attaaaaack!
[Across from the inner walls' defenders, on the outer wall, Iorveth emerges. Dozens of elven archers appear behind him and launch a barrage of arrows onto Henselt's forces.]
GERALT, NARRATING: Terrorists, murderers, a death squad, or freedom fighters, in an uneven battle, noble in their suffering. It all depends on your point of view. I helped Iorveth. I gave him my trust. I joined Saskia and took the side of the rebels, their new values and ideals. Time will tell if I was right. One thing is sure: elves are the best archers who have ever walked this earth.]
SASKIA: Iorveth! That's what I call an entrance!
GERALT: I have to admit, the Squirrel has style.
SASKIA: Not all is lost! We need to cut off Henselt's escape!
GERALT: What are you talking about?! He looks as if he likes it here!
SASKIA: He'll change his mind! Join Iorveth and shut the main gate.
GERALT: Yarpen says Dethmold's magic damaged it.
ZOLTAN: Yarpen knows fuck all about gates. Cover my arse and I'll close it!
SASKIA: The fate of the battle hangs on it, dwarf.
ZOLTAN: There's no bloody gate that Zoltan Chivay can't close!
[Geralt and Zoltan climb down from the wall and head around towards Iorveth and his archers.]
ZOLTAN: Pull up the ladder!
DWARF: Yes, sir!
GERALT: Iorveth! We need to get to the main gate! Now!
IORVETH: Admit it - you thought I wouldn't come back, Gwynbleidd...
GERALT: You're hellishly good. We need to stop Henselt from retreating.
IORVETH: And then force him to try it.
ZOLTAN: There's no time to waste! To the gate!
[Geralt and Iorveth cover Zoltan as he goes to close the gate.]
ZOLTAN: Done!
IORVETH: They're cut off like sitting ducks.
GERALT: Maybe they'll surrender.
[Henselt and his men are left trapped between the two courtyards as the Scoia'tael continue to fire into their ranks.]
SOLDIER: Sire... Your orders...?
HENSELT: We surrender.
[Philippa and Saskia descend to negotiate with Henselt.]
SASKIA: The battle is over, King.
HENSELT: You won. And the victors state their terms.
SASKIA: You know my terms. You will relinquish Aedirn and sign an act of unconditional surrender in which you'll promise your troops will never cross the Pontar.
HENSELT: Is that all?
SASKIA: You'll pay war reparations and recognize the free realm of Upper Aedirn with Saskia of Vergen at its head.
HENSELT: What about me and my men? What awaits us?
SASKIA: Freedom. It's a great thing. Look how many of my soldiers died defending it.
HENSELT: How much do you want?
PHILIPPA: We'll discuss the war reparations in detail at Loc Muinne. Before esteemed witnesses. There's one thing Saskia didn't mention.
HENSELT: I'm listening.
PHILIPPA: Since the dawn of time, wars were, are and will yet be. One side wins, the other loses. But military conflict should be carried out under chivalrous rules and laws.
HENSELT: What's your point, sorceress?
SASKIA: War criminals, including Dethmold, must be punished.
HENSELT: I need an advisor.
SASKIA: War criminals must be punished.
PHILIPPA: You'll have a new advisor - Síle de Tansarville.
HENSELT: Has this witch gone mad?!
PHILIPPA: It's a necessary condition.
SASKIA: Dethmold committed a crime and he must be punished.
HENSELT: As you wish.
SASKIA: Execute him.
DETHMOLD: Don't allow them to harass me like a dog.
[Two Scoia'tael take Dethmold away.]
DETHMOLD: You'll see how a real sorcerer dies, foolish whores.
[The Scoia'tael force him down over an anvil and a dwarf cuts off his head.]
PHILIPPA: Swear an oath and you'll walk free.
HENSELT: Who am I negotiating with anyway?
SASKIA: Philippa Eilhart and I speak with one voice.
HENSELT: Be wary of the sorceresses. They often forget whose perch is higher.
SASKIA: Philippa is my advisor.
PHILIPPA: We await your decision, King.
HENSELT: I, King Henselt, Lord of Kaedwen, swear before witnesses that I will relinquish Aedirnian borders. I recognize Saskia of Vergen's reign in the realm of the Pontar Valley. And I swear to pay war reparations in the amount agreed upon at Loc Muinne.
SASKIA: You're free.
PHILIPPA: Show the King the way out.
[A couple of dwarves lead Henselt away.]
PHILIPPA: It's time to go, Saskia.
SASKIA: Yes.
[Saskia and Philippa walk away.]
IORVETH: I don't like it.
GERALT: What?
IORVETH: Saskia, I know her well. She's never behaved like that.
GERALT: Her eyes look as if she's taken fisstech.
IORVETH: I assure you, she doesn't use it. Let's follow them.
[Geralt and Iorveth follow the two towards Philippa's quarters, but they disappear into a portal before entering the house.]
IORVETH: They disappeared.
GERALT: A teleport.
IORVETH: Let's search Eilhart's house. She was in a hurry, maybe she left something.
[Geralt and Iorveth comb through Philippa's rooms.]
IORVETH: Let's take a look.
IORVETH: Hmmm... I've got nothing. Except for women's finery.
IORVETH: If only this bed could speak...
GERALT: Iorveth! Over here. I've got something...
IORVETH: What is it?
GERALT: A tome of potion recipes.
IORVETH: We've no time to read books.
GERALT: Sorceresses carefully guard books like this.
IORVETH: Not that carefully. After all, she left it behind.
GERALT: She was in a hurry.
IORVETH: Could this book have anything to do with the Dragonslayer?
GERALT: Even if it doesn't, it's still very valuable.
IORVETH: I'm sure it's filled with recipes Eilhart used to send many to eternity.
GERALT: You're right.
GERALT: Most things in this land seem to have something to do with Saskia, the dragon.
IORVETH: How do you know?
GERALT: She told me.
IORVETH: Then keep your mouth shut, Gwynbleidd, because if...
GERALT: I know what will happen if they learn, Iorveth.
GERALT: I've found thaumador's recipe.
IORVETH: Eilhart already told us the ingredients for magepain. How is it relevant?
GERALT: Usually, the recipe for an antidote is right next to the one for the poison.
IORVETH: I can recite it exactly. Royal blood, an immortelle, a dragon's dream and petals from a rose of remembrance.
GERALT: Yet this book doesn't even mention a rose of remembrance.
IORVETH: I recall perfectly that Eilhart said a rose of remembrance, combined with an immortelle, heals the mind.
GERALT: What if she lied? Maybe it doesn't heal the mind but influences it. Philippa passed the flower to Saskia through a kiss - the symbol of love and perdition.
IORVETH: I'm confused.
GERALT: I think Philippa subjugated Saskia's mind by adding the rose to the antidote.
IORVETH: I'll kill that bitch.
GERALT: Philippa has magic and an obedient dragon at her command. She could have a strong influence on the conference.
IORVETH: But what does she want?
GERALT: We can only learn that in Loc Muinne.
IORVETH: Let's go then, Gwynbleidd...
[Zoltan and Dandelion are waiting for them outside.]
DANDELION: Geralt! Saskia's disappeared. People are getting riled.
ZOLTAN: Dwarves, too.
GERALT: Saskia's gone to the summit that's supposed to reestablish the Council and Conclave. She wants the kings assembling at Loc Muinne to recognize Vergen's independence.
ZOLTAN: The lass has got gumption.
DANDELION: But everything'll go to hell without her! We showed Henselt his place, but what of it if everything falls apart now? Someone's got to bring these folks together. Without that - it'll have been a hollow victory.
GERALT: Saskia's spellbound. Philippa controls her.
ZOLTAN: You're shittin' me!
DANDELION: I knew something was up! I could feel it! She ordered Dethmold executed, no trial, just like that... A gesture from Philippa is all it took!
ZOLTAN: That bastard deserved it.
DANDELION: I wouldn't be surprised if Zoltan had ordered it, as vengeful as he is. But Saskia...?
ZOLTAN: Where is she?
GERALT: Philippa's taken her to Loc Muinne.
GERALT: I'm going after Saskia, with Iorveth. Everything suggests those responsible for Foltest's death will be at Loc Muinne.
ZOLTAN: Some still say you killed him.
GERALT: I've gotta stop that drivel - don't have a choice. But you do.
DANDELION: The elite of the North is gathering at Loc Muinne. I couldn't forgive myself if I wasn't there - it'd be a sin against art!
ZOLTAN: The art of poking your nose in others' business.
IORVETH: You'll be needed here until Saskia returns. Order must prevail, there can be no strife. The victory over Henselt was an important step, but only the first on a long road.
DANDELION: The hymn I composed could help.
GERALT: Vergen'll need many more songs.
DANDELION: I certainly hope our paths will cross again, Geralt of Rivia.
GERALT: Stop dramatizing. You can be sure of that. We've got unfinished business of our own.
ZOLTAN: Huh? Oh, aye.
IORVETH: Let's go then, Gwynbleidd...
[Geralt and Iorveth leave Vergen. Iorveth takes one moment to look back over his shoulder, then the two of them depart.]