CHAPTER II (ROCHE) - CHARACTER DIALOGUE
CONTENTS
DANDELION: I see you've finally decided to relax. Have I ever told you I think you lead a very unhealthy life?
GERALT: You've mentioned it.
DANDELION: Evidently not enough for you to take it to heart. Anyway, the whores are quite decent here.
GERALT: Maybe some other time.
DANDELION: You worry me.
DANDELION: Here to visit your old friends?
GERALT: Just looking around. You?
DANDELION: A lengthy stay in Henselt's camp and one is likely to become somewhat Kaedwenized. I'd like to avoid that.
GERALT: Rightly so.
GERALT: I wonder what Síle's doing in Henselt's camp.
DANDELION: You're not alone, because she's wondering what you're doing at the king's side.
GERALT: How do you know?
DANDELION: She asked me about you.
GERALT: What did she want to know?
DANDELION: I have no idea. I realized right off she was sniffing and told her she could smell my fingers if she wanted, but that'd be all she'd get.
GERALT: And she gave up?
DANDELION: Mhm. See how careful I am?
GERALT: Have you tried to, uh... approach Ves?
DANDELION: I've thought about it. On the one hand, I've never rogered a soldier, but on the other, the cling-clang of steel against steel at an intimate moment could put off even the most attentive lover. Why do you ask?
GERALT: I just like to know.
DANDELION: I heard you dueled each other.
GERALT: You heard right.
DANDELION: Be honest, you let her win.
GERALT: Why would I do that?
DANDELION: That's what I'd have done. A happy woman is much more willing to drop her knickers.
GERALT: Let's just say I didn't fight her like I'd fight Letho.
DANDELION: I knew it! Did she think to thank you?
GERALT: She told me off.
DANDELION: Tough cookie, that one.
GERALT: I noticed.
DANDELION: Really? You slept with her?
GERALT: Mhm.
DANDELION: And how was she? Spill it!
GERALT: Well, there was no cling-clang of steel.
DANDELION: You came out on top in the arena... Maybe you should try her in, uh, another setting?
GERALT: Could be interesting, I guess.
DANDELION: Really? You slept with her?
GERALT: Mhm.
DANDELION: And how was she? Spill it!
GERALT: Well, there was no cling-clang of steel.
GERALT: Heard anything about Letho?
DANDELION: They say he's hiding in the ravines. He's not alone.
GERALT: I know.
DANDELION: I fail to comprehend exactly why you have it in for him. He escaped. So what? You're no king and as such are hardly in danger.
GERALT: I'm tired of having to explain that I'm not the kingslayer.
DANDELION: Henselt believed you.
GERALT: But he's still not sure. And I don't want him doing me any favors.
GERALT: Letho knows a lot about me. There are certain things that probably only he can explain.
DANDELION: I'm not so certain you really want to know them.
GERALT: We'll see.
GERALT: Letho is responsible for two regicides. I want to know why he did it. Or rather, for whom.
DANDELION: Is that so important?
GERALT: Witchers don't step into political quicksand for no reason. I don't like the principles that govern the world, but so far nobody's come up with anything better. Murdering kings solves nothing. Quite the contrary.
DANDELION: Let's say you catch him... What then?
GERALT: First we'll have a talk, then he'll pay for his crime.
DANDELION: Punishments vary.
GERALT: But there's only one punishment for murder.
GERALT: I'll decide once I've heard him out, learned the truth. Maybe I'll see his point. Or maybe I'll just cut off his head.
GERALT: Henselt's camp is abuzz with rumors about the events three years ago.
DANDELION: When you burn a sorceress at the stake, rumors spread faster than the seed of a lascivious baron.
GERALT: I know you primarily value sorceresses for their firm busts, but I'm curious – what do you think of Sabrina Glevissig?
DANDELION: Sorceresses complain about feeling under-appreciated, persecuted, even. But lemme tell you, Geralt - you live by the sword, you die by the sword. If they didn't meddle, they wouldn't be burned at the stake. They keep whining about the horrors that took place on Thanedd Island - about the order of the world being destroyed. But let me ask you, who brought that about if not them and their scheming?
GERALT: My memories and feelings seem inextricably linked. I seem to be recovering both... I believe Yennefer's alive and I'll eventually find her.
DANDELION: Triss... Yennefer. That's some life you lead, my friend.
GERALT: First off, we have no idea if Yennefer's still alive. Second, we have no idea if Triss is alive.
DANDELION: Hm, true. You seem to have two women, when in fact you don't even have one.
GERALT: Their kind doesn't die easily. I'll find Triss as soon as I've dealt with the assassin.
DANDELION: What about Yennefer?
GERALT: I won't know what to do about her until I see her.
GERALT: My memory's coming back... It's just bits and pieces so far, but I can feel them coming together, forming a whole.
DANDELION: What have you remembered?
GERALT: A voyage. An endless trek south. I was following Yennefer and the Wild Hunt. I have no idea how long. It got cold... Only old people were left in the villages I passed through. But they all refused to tell me what had happened to the young... To their children...
GERALT: I finally pressed a man for information. He blamed it on wolf packs, on an outburst of drowners and rotfiends... No one mentioned the Wild Hunt.
DANDELION: Did you catch up to the Hunt?
GERALT: I don't know.
DANDELION: What are you going to do?
GERALT: Go on searching. I remember you mentioned some elven poems about the Hunt.
DANDELION: I believe I said they could exist. And they'd be old. I don't know any, but look around - you're pretty good at finding things.
GERALT: I found a poem titled "The Song of the Hunt."
DANDELION: You're kidding!
GERALT: Mh-mh. Written by an elven Sage.
DANDELION: What did he, uh, scribble down?
GERALT: A lot more than I understood. Decipher this for me: "Looking glass images without heart or mind haunt the worlds in the name of those who have preserved blood from blood, and who feed on unrestrained lust."
DANDELION: The heartless bit is probably about cruelty. But "looking glass images?" The Hunt's cruel riders must resemble someone.
GERALT: But in a looking glass, they could only resemble themselves.
DANDELION: Not necessarily. The metaphor might be deeper. In any case, somebody commands them. They feed on unrestrained lust - sounds like some tyrant.
GERALT: There's gotta be some truth behind these convoluted sentences. And I wonder why elves are more interested in the Wild Hunt than humans.
GERALT: I found the notes of Morten Collis. He was a scholar - focused on studying the Wild Hunt.
DANDELION: You don't say... Interesting. What's he got in there?
GERALT: The Wild Hunt moves along orthogonal trajectories that accord with...
DANDELION: Chrrr... Zzzzzz....
GERALT: You asleep, Dandelion?
DANDELION: Sorry, but when I hear words like "trajectories" - yadda-yadda something, my eyelids just turn to lead. We can talk about poetry, but scholarship? I dunno. Talk to someone who cares...
GERALT: We need to talk.
DETHMOLD: What? No 'hello', 'good morning', 'pucker up and kiss my arse'? Nothing?
GERALT: Uh, hello.
DETHMOLD: Good morning, White Wolf. Will you take some tea? It's a fortifying beverage.
GERALT: Some other time, maybe.
GERALT: You must know a lot about the Wild Hunt... as one of the reigning majesties among mages...
DETHMOLD: Ugh, I simply cannot concern myself with folktales about corpses flying about on intensely emaciated steeds.
GERALT: The Wild Hunt's no myth.
GERALT: These should interest you. I found some notes of a scholar of the Wild Hunt.
DETHMOLD: Perhaps they should. But you know what I'll tell you? They don't.
GERALT: I dunno why you refuse to talk to me about the Hunt, but I find it interesting.
HENSELT: Greetings, witcher.
GERALT: The sight of your camp must instill fear in your enemies' hearts. I'm certain the stench does.
HENSELT: Normal military conditions, witcher. Boiling cabbage, stale sweat and the smell of fear. They're constant companions in the expansion of any great empire.
GERALT: Thanks for the history lesson. I take it you'll wait until the last minute to bring the remaining troops across.
HENSELT: Nothing sinks defenders' hearts more than steady increases in their enemy's ranks. Though I'll say these Vergen sons of bitches are worthy foes and won't flee so easily. It's good having a neighbor who knows how to fight.
GERALT: I'm not sure the people of Aedirn share that sentiment.
GERALT: Dethmold was kind enough to help me - I may be able to lift the curse sooner than I thought.
HENSELT: Details don't interest me. I expect results. That said, master Geralt, what would you say to a long-term offer? Protection, for instance?
GERALT: If it involves eliminating monsters, then yes.
HENSELT: That's perfect - my regal person is at all times threatened by potential... monsters.
GERALT: Not the same. I'm ill-suited to being a bodyguard.
HENSELT: You tread upon a slippery meadow, witcher. Beware - it's strewn with the nastiest cow pies. I'm not one to be refused.
GERALT: Still...
HENSELT: I've had people beheaded for more pleasant answers.
GERALT: I won't change my mind.
HENSELT: Fine response! I see there's truth in what they say about the size of a witcher's privates. I'm glad to see you're no pushover and have a mind of your own. If only I had more men of your ilk and not the kind of arse-munchers that infest my court!
GERALT: It would run counter to witcher rules, Your Majesty. I don't meddle in politics. I agreed to lift the curse, because that's a part of my profession.
HENSELT: And I usually get what I want.
GERALT: I still refuse. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it. And a bodyguard with moral dilemmas is not likely to provide the best protection.
HENSELT: Seems logical, though I'd even say it contains a hint of a threat. Congratulations, witcher, you've managed to piss me off and entertain me at the same time.
ROCHE: Here to spy on us?
GERALT: Who would I be spying for?
ROCHE: For Henselt. For Dethmold. I heard they hired you.
GERALT: It just so happens we have common aims. But don't worry, observing Vernon Roche isn't one of them.
ROCHE: In that case, to what do I owe this pleasure?
ROCHE: Greetings, Geralt. What brings you here?
GERALT: I was wondering what you're actually doing here, Vernon.
ROCHE: The Blue Stripes never want for work. Especially in a hotbed like this.
GERALT: You're not about to tell me, are you. And here I thought we had something special.
ROCHE: I've got my finger on the pulse. And I've not forgotten what I came here for, Geralt.
GERALT: Foltest's assassin.
ROCHE: Precisely. He's holed up like a rat and he'll meet a rat's end.
GERALT: He was hiding.
ROCHE: I don't follow.
GERALT: Letho and his witchers tried to kill Henselt. His two accomplices were killed, but Letho escaped.
GERALT: I've stepped in many mires in my time, but this one seems especially deep.
ROCHE: I couldn't agree more. Henselt's invasion, an old curse, discord in the camp... A right mess.
GERALT: I wonder what'll come of it.
ROCHE: If not for that damned battle of ghosts, Henselt would already be ploughing Aedirnian whores.
GERALT: Three years ago he went home with his tail between his legs and his army decimated.
ROCHE: He lost to magic, not to an army. And that makes a difference. Say all you want about Henselt, but he's the best commander I know. A popular uprising won't stop him.
GERALT: Looks like the Nilfgaardians are supporting him.
ROCHE: Shilard's clever that way - does everything to create the impression that the party he's negotiating with and the Empire are already allies.
GERALT: I did hear that Kaedwen and Nilfgaard are about to sign a treaty.
ROCHE: Huh, they're negotiating. From what I know, the people of Kaedwen dislike the idea of an alliance with the Black Ones. As would I.
ROCHE: Kaedwen is strong enough without Nilfgaard. Temeria is kingless and in turmoil. Things are not well, Geralt. I'd be comforted to see Henselt break his teeth on Vergen. But I don't believe some maiden can halt him.
GERALT: Any idea what's happening on the other side of the battle of specters?
ROCHE: I expect not much has changed. A bunch of dwarves, elves and peasants are trying to figure out how to save Aedirn.
GERALT: Saskia's an exceptional woman.
ROCHE: But just a woman, nonetheless. Besides – how would you know?
GERALT: Just a hunch, and there's all the talk. Besides, to assemble an army of elves, dwarves and humans who fight side by side, you pretty much have to be extraordinary.
GERALT: I've met her.
ROCHE: When?
GERALT: Henselt sent me over as an envoy.
ROCHE: You'll not persuade me some woman will defeat Henselt in battle.
GERALT: You're forgetting one thing - Kaedwen's just fighting for a better life, Aedirn's fighting for life itself.
ROCHE: Motivation's important, I grant you, but it can't trump knowledge of the art of war. Temeria's my only concern. And I'll be glad to see Henselt's forces tied up here. That's a good thing.
GERALT: Think he wouldn't stop after conquering Aedirn? What if he quickly deals with Saskia and turns his army west?
ROCHE: It's possible. But I hope it won't come to that.
GERALT: You need to be careful - Dethmold can't learn that you're holding a Kaedweni spy.
ROCHE: He won't. Don't you worry none.
GERALT: Dethmold has an excellent net of his own spies.
ROCHE: That spy we caught at Loredo's - Arnolt? He's prancing around in the next world.
GERALT: Why did you kill him?
ROCHE: What else was I to do?
GERALT: On the boat, you said he was living proof of Henselt's conspiracy against Temeria.
ROCHE: I didn't plan it... He just... didn't survive the interrogation.
GERALT: Maybe you shouldn't've keelhauled him.
ROCHE: If he'd been cooperative, I wouldn't have had to.
GERALT: Did he spill anything interesting?
ROCHE: He was tough, but waterboarding can be incredibly effective. Eventually he coughed up that Henselt was trying to bring the border towns to a boil.
GERALT: Henselt's not stupid. He wouldn't want to wage war on two fronts.
ROCHE: That rat Loredo was supposed to stir unrest in Flotsam. Luckily, you rearranged his intestines with your blade.
GERALT: You miss your old friend, Iorveth?
ROCHE: If the gods are kind, he'll yet fall into my hands. That said, I wonder what the scoundrel's up to.
GERALT: He and his Scoia'tael are encamped outside Vergen. He's in good health and enjoying Saskia's favor.
ROCHE: How do you know?
GERALT: I met him there.
ROCHE: Then so will I. This idea of an assault on Vergen - I like it more and more. Iorveth's likely to bruise the Kaedweni army and Henselt might wipe out the Squirrels.
GERALT: What news of good old Flotsam?
ROCHE: Thanks to us, it still is good, old, Temerian Flotsam. If I hadn't sniffed out Loredo's treachery, a Kaedweni garrison would be stationed there already.
ROCHE: Constable John Natalis has appointed a new commandant to Flotsam. Let's hope he doesn't turn out to be another whore.
SÍLE: Greetings Geralt.
GERALT: It's pretty obvious you and Dethmold don't exactly get along.
SÍLE: Dethmold is an overgrown baby - a fine match for King Henselt. The problem is that he's as jealous as he is childish. He claims I wish to steal his position at the Kaedweni court. Nothing could be more absurd.
GERALT: I'd assumed that after killing the kayran, the Pontar Valley would hold no further interest for you.
SÍLE: You know nothing about me, witcher. I'm here because two northern monarchs were murdered. It's quite probable Henselt is next on the list. We don't need another country descending into chaos. King Henselt cannot die. I'll make sure of that.
GERALT: Foltest's killer forced Triss to teleport him to Vergen. They're somewhere nearby.
SÍLE: That nosy little meddler Triss used my megascope to accomplish that. But I suppose I should be grateful - after all, I might've been the kingslayer's victim. Even if Triss is in Vergen, I cannot locate her. This damned fog prevents any kind of magical probing.
GERALT: A sorceress like you must know bundles about paranormal phenomena.
SÍLE: Any mage's knowledge has little to do with superstitions.
GERALT: The Wild Hunt's no superstition.
SÍLE: Indeed, the phenomenon exists.
GERALT: I want to know everything about it. Including what you know.
SÍLE: You're out of luck. I've never concerned myself with it. I'm also not interested in whirlwinds or hailstorms.
GERALT: I have proof suggesting that the Wild Hunt is a vast accumulation of the Power. Strange that mages aren't interested.
SÍLE: To the mere mortal, anything that is not immediately comprehensible is suspect, the product of a conspiracy. And where there's a conspiracy, well, it's obvious mages must have hatched it.
GERALT: I'm a mortal, though probably not a "mere" one. I found the notes of a man who spent his entire life...
SÍLE: Try the apothecary. Paranormal phenomena apparently interest him. Perhaps he'll satisfy your thirst.
GERALT: I dunno why you don't want to help me. But I just might find out.
GERALT: Dethmold refused to talk to me about this as well.
SÍLE: I suppose that leaves you with the apothecary.
GERALT: We'll talk about that later.
GERALT: Know how to remove a tattoo?
SÍLE: No problem. I'd need some green mould, white myrtle petals and wolf's aloe.
GERALT: I'll be back once I've found the ingredients.
GERALT: I've got the necessary ingredients.
SÍLE: Let's get to it, then. Though it seems strange to want to erase a work of "art"...
GERALT: Mhm. Just get rid of it.
GERALT: I think you changed my mind.
SÍLE: It's your choice...
VES: Greetings, Geralt.
GERALT: Greetings, Ves. What news from the Blue Stripes?
VES: They're keeping their eyes open, as always.
GERALT: Henselt thinks he'll take Vergen easily.
VES: A regular army will always win against a popular uprising. I know this, Henselt knows it, I don't understand why Saskia doesn't.
GERALT: Maybe she'd rather die than surrender. Or she has a surprise in store for Henselt.
VES: Possibly... Henselt keeps the precise plans of his campaign a secret.
GERALT: Why haven't you set up in the Kaedweni camp? Information becomes more available the closer you get to the source.
VES: Henselt doesn't trust us and I don't blame him. If not for this damn fog, we'd have moved even further south.
GERALT: We've lost the assassin's trail.
VES: The trail led us here. If it goes no further, the assassins must be in the vicinity. I see two possibilities - either Henselt hired them... or he's their next target.
GERALT: We'll find out soon enough.
GERALT: Could Henselt himself be behind the assassinations?
VES: You don't think it's possible? Consider the Pontar Valley - Temeria, Kaedwen and Aedirn have been disputing it for generations. Only now, Temeria and Aedirn are kingless.
GERALT: True, Henselt might profit from the deaths of Foltest and Demavend, but covert assassinations aren't his style.
VES: I suppose you're right. The Kaedweni king seems to love a good war. Just take a look around. Perhaps that's his ruse. When the cheese goes missing from the larder, no one thinks of blaming the cat...
ZOLTAN: Greetings, Geralt, in these humble, foreign walls.
GERALT: Greetings.
ZOLTAN: My heart rejoiced to see that dear, old noggin of yours emerge from a sea of unknown faces.
GERALT: I see you prefer the company of Vernon and his men.
ZOLTAN: The soldiery in Henselt's camp looks at me like I'm a lump of rotten meat.
GERALT: You think they suspect you of being a spy?
ZOLTAN: Who the fuck knows what's in their bloody heads. You know what? I regret I'm not a spy. I feel like the last bloody cunt here. Somewhere nearby, my brethren are sharpening their axes, just waiting for the fog to dissipate so they can blunt them on some Kaedweni necks.
GERALT: You've been around. Heard anything about the kingslayer?
ZOLTAN: Just that Henselt is shitting himself for fear that his head is about to be separated from his shoulders. For me, the assassin's hiding out in the ravines. An ideal place for his kind.
ZOLTAN: Anyway, I've been wondering. Why the fuck do you care so much about this cunt that you're ready to stick your neck out to find him?
GERALT: Because I'm innocent.
ZOLTAN: The wise know that, and I didn't think you'd trouble yourself about what the fools think.
GERALT: As long as Letho is free, I'll remain a suspect. I can only prove my innocence by presenting the culprit. No other way.
GERALT: Letho knows a lot about me. There are certain things probably only he can explain.
ZOLTAN: But is it worth sticking your neck out to know what was in your head before?
GERALT: It is to me.
GERALT: Letho is guilty of two regicides. I want to know why he did it. Or rather, for whom.
ZOLTAN: What's the difference?
GERALT: A witcher doesn't step into political quicksand for no reason.
ZOLTAN: Every king has so much shite under his collar that taking a knife to his throat is always justified.
GERALT: I don't care for the precepts that govern the world, but I've yet to find anyone who's found a better way to do things. Killing kings solves nothing. Quite the contrary.
ZOLTAN: What will you do when you find him?
GERALT: A crime carries punishment. And there's only one punishment for murder.
GERALT: We'll see when I talk to him, when I learn the truth. Maybe I'll see his point. And maybe I'll just cut off his head.
GERALT: All rested after the boat trip?
ZOLTAN: Don't remind me of that! My stomach churns at the very thought.
GERALT: You could have traveled here on foot.
ZOLTAN: If I'd known it'd be four days of rocking, I would have. And if they'd told me I'd be eating dried and salted cod three times a day, I'd have clobbered myself with my own hammer before boarding that boat.
GERALT: You're spending all your time in Roche's camp. Have you two become chums?
ZOLTAN: Chums? That's a bit rich, but he doesn't piss me off as much as he used to. Either he's changed or I've grown accustomed.
GERALT: Maybe both.
ZOLTAN: Maybe. Besides, the camp has loads of other attractions. His men cheat me at cards and there's a tit or two to hang the gaze upon.
GERALT: If that's what you're after, there's a regular whorehouse in Henselt's camp.
ZOLTAN: How can you compare a whore's tits to Ves's? I could buy myself the others, but hers are just to be admired.
ZOLTAN: I heard you had a bit of fun with Ves...
GERALT: Did she tell you?
ZOLTAN: No. Is there anything to tell?
GERALT: Ask her.
ISIDOR: What? Surprised to see a dwarf on human leash? Got a well-thought out slur ready and waiting? Go on, surprise me.
GERALT: You're a little tense.
ISIDOR: Tense, heh, heh, that's a good one. I, odd-looking human, am a prime mercenary, a sapper. I'm not tense by definition.
GERALT: A sapper?
ISIDOR: Not that kind of sapper. I build field fortifications and war machines. I can fuckin' throw a boat-bridge across a river in half a day. Digging ditches is relaxing - that's what I meant.
GERALT: Hm, got any spare parts from those war machines? The decommissioned ones, of course. I need some to make monster traps.
ISIDOR: Sure. Why wouldn't I, if I do?
LASOTA: Yeah...?
GERALT: You're the quartermaster's assistant?
LASOTA: Yeah.
GERALT: Great. I want to see the best equipment you have. I've got the coin - the army stands to gain, not lose by me.
LASOTA: I should think so... So?
GERALT: You sure you're the quartermaster's assistant?
LASOTA: Yeah.
GERALT: I ask, because assistants are usually pretty glib.
LASOTA: I'm glib.
GERALT: No you're not.
LASOTA: My gal left me.
GERALT: How do you know?
LASOTA: She wrote me a letter... Wait a minute. Dammit, she can't write! The bastards! Beavers, not friends. I'll show them soon as I get home. Snot-nosed scribes, counting barley all day. They get bored, look for diversions! I'll give 'em diversion...
GERALT: A-hem.
LASOTA: Many thanks! At first I thought, "Go away, emo," but now I see you're a good fellow.
GERALT: So, will you help me?
LASOTA: I should think so!
LASOTA: Godspeed.
MYRON: I am Myron, master apothecary in King Henselt's service.
GERALT: Geralt.
MYRON: Geralt... provenance and profession known only to him. So be it. How can I help you?
GERALT: I want to stock up on herbs and medicine...
MYRON: Got a prescription?
GERALT: A prescription?
MYRON: I jest. We have supply shortages, so I can only sell you certain medicaments.
GERALT: I'm looking for information about the Wild Hunt.
MYRON: Odd, mysterious phenomena fascinate me as well.
GERALT: You must know a lot more than I do.
MYRON: Unconnected trivia. You should look into Morten Collis. He researched the Hunt - devoted his life to it. His notes would be invaluable, the details we would find...
GERALT: I found some writings by Morten Collis.
MYRON: I wouldn't mind comparing notes with you - him.
GERALT: He doesn't cite many documented facts. Mentions a lot of myths and legends, though.
MYRON: Very true. Where shall we start?
GERALT: First and foremost, Collis looked into the Hunt's movement, its direction.
MYRON: The Wild Hunt moves from north to south, always, never in the opposite direction. That is known.
GERALT: Mhm. That's what I remember, and Collis confirms it. I just don't understand why that is.
MYRON: By virtue of its trajectory, the cavalcade slips into our world at the North Pole. Thus, it has no way to go but south.
GERALT: According to the notes, the Hunt's arrival can be predicted by observing the Orkan nebula.
MYRON: Solar eclipses affect how frequently it appears. Whereas it invariably makes its advent on the winter solstice - though not every year.
GERALT: Collis calculated that the Hunt appears in those years when the nebula is in the eastern sky.
GERALT: When I trailed the Hunt, I passed through many abandoned villages on my way.
MYRON: The Wild Hunt kidnaps youths.
GERALT: Why?
MYRON: It may need workers, warriors... or meat.
GERALT: Collis seems to favor the slave theory.
GERALT: Most mages refuse to discuss it.
MYRON: It's an awkward topic. Since the Council and Conclave banned the use of mind spells, it has almost been taboo to speak of the Wild Hunt.
GERALT: Think there's a connection between the retinue and mental spells?
MYRON: Both seem to addle the brain. All who have dealt with the Hunt seem mentally unstable. Many have gone mad, others have experienced amnesia. The specters emit a magnetic field that distorts perception, impedes brain functions.
GERALT: They say the Hunt's appearance is an omen of war.
MYRON: That's pure coincidence. The Hunt arrives in the winter, and most campaigns begin in spring.
GERALT: Let's summarize...
MYRON: Through his observations and by calculating the retinue's trajectory of movement, Collis formulated two equivalent conclusions. The first states that the Wild Hunt are knights who perished in different worlds and have assembled as a cavalcade of vengeance.
MYRON: His second hypothesis is that some unknown and powerful force multiplies the specters whose task is to move between worlds and capture slaves. Both theories seem probable.
GERALT: If an encounter with the Hunt and its magnetic field addles the mind, then a second encounter should reverse those effects.
MYRON: Indeed, someone who lost their sanity or memory to the Wild Hunt could be healed upon meeting the cavalcade again. But that is pure speculation. Anyone who's succeeded in escaping the wraiths' grasp would rather perish than see them again.
GERALT: So, the Wild Hunt could cause you to lose your memory, but it could also help you get it back...
MYRON: Might you know something I don't?
GERALT: I have amnesia. But for some time now, memories have been coming back.
MYRON: Do you recall when this began?
GERALT: Mhm. Right after I killed a certain specter - the King of the Wild Hunt.
GERALT: I found a poem - "The Song of the Hunt."
MYRON: I will gladly discuss science with you, but poems interest me not. Speak to someone who can decipher them.
GERALT: Godspeed.
MYRON: Good luck with... whatever it is you do.
RAYMOND: Browse and choose.
GERALT: I want to stock up on provisions.
RAYMOND: "Seek and ye shall find." As the prophet Lebioda would say.
GERALT: He was a shepherd, had experience in seeking and finding.
RAYMOND: You know the Good Book, that's worthy of praise.
GERALT: Any discount on account of that...?
RAYMOND: No.
GERALT: The prophet Lebioda encourages the giving of discounts.
GERALT: Does that mean I get that discount?
RAYMOND: Find a watermelon, and half of it is yours. For free. So?
GERALT: Oral tradition.
RAYMOND: Hm...
GERALT: "And if your neighbor offers you a basket of apples for a ram, say you shall take but half a basket, for ten more neighbors will come."
GERALT: "And five of them will offer you two baskets of apples for the ram so many covet."
RAYMOND: An endless source of wisdom.
RAYMOND: Come back, like that cat from the Good Book.
GERALT: Greetings.
SAMBOR: Welcome an opportunity when it comes.
GERALT: They say you run a traveling pawn shop. Heard you even have books.
SAMBOR: No song, no supper.
GERALT: Nobody mentioned you speak in proverbs.
SAMBOR: A willful man must have his way.
GERALT: Ah, you're doing this on a bet. How long do you have to go on like this?
SAMBOR: Lost time is never again found.
GERALT: What happens if you lose the bet?
SAMBOR: Crows do not pick crow's eyes.
GERALT: Good luck anyway.
SAMBOR: Fortune is easily found, but hard to keep.
GERALT: I wish you persistence, then. Can I see your goods? I'm mainly interested in those books.
SAMBOR: Better to ask the way than to go astray.
SAMBOR: Easy come, easy go.
SPARK: Oh, another traveler! From where? Wait, let me guess... Hm...
GERALT: From Temeria.
SPARK: Had it at the tip of my tongue! So, what brings you to Vergen? Wait, I know...
GERALT: Business.
SPARK: Just what I thought. And you're...
GERALT: A witcher.
SPARK: Well, well. We don't often see witchers here. Uh, what do witchers do, anyway?
GERALT: We solve problems.
SPARK: Oh, I have a problem with my boyfriend.
GERALT: Did you find his entrails strewn on the porch, and his head a few paces away? Because those are the kind of problems I solve.
SPARK: Ahem.