PROLOGUE
CONTENTS
- can'tseeme
- Prologue
- Interrogation, part 1
- By the King's Will
- Newboy's Amulet (Melitele's Heart)
- By the King's Will, Continued
- At the Fore
- Interrogation, part 2
- Aryan La Valette (At the Fore)
- Interrogation, part 3
- Trial by Fire
- Interrogation, part 4
- To the Temple
- Interrogation, part 5
- Blood of His Blood
- Interrogation, part 6
- Escaping the Dungeons
- The Riverboat
- Overheard Dialogue
Beginning narration
MONSTRUM - A PORTRAYAL OF WITCHERS, ANONYMOUS
[Geralt runs through a forest in the dark and the rain, while voices call out his name. He finally collapses into unconsciousness. We see Lambert and Berengar running towards his fallen body, while someone laughs in the distance.]
[Geralt comes back to consciousness hanging inside a dungeon cell while two Temerian guards play dice on the table outside.]
GUARD 1: Come on, sixes. Daddy needs you.
GUARD 1: Aw, shit!
GUARD 2: Hah! Twenty orens to granddad.
GUARD 1: Lookie there - he's awake.
GUARD 2: You daft? Don't go in there!
GUARD 1: Shut it. He's in chains, can't do a thing.
GUARD 1: Am I right, master Geralt?
[Guard 1 punches Geralt, knocking him unconscious again.]
GUARD 1: Roll again!
GUARD 2: Why?
GUARD 1: The dice didn't roll.
GUARD 2: Calling me a cheat? Take it back!
GUARD 1: Look... He's awake again.
[They enter the cell and begin tormenting Geralt.]
GUARD 1: I heard witchers all start out as roadside orphans taken in by mages. Mages who experiment on 'em.
GUARD 2: Folk say they plough witches come the equinox.
GUARD 1: That's how they get those spooky eyes.
[Vernon Roche appears.]
ROCHE: Enough. Take him down and put him in the interrogation room.
GERALT: I thought you'd died.
ROCHE: I'm not so easy to kill.
[The guards take Geralt down. He is next seen sitting at a table with hands chained behind his back. Roche enters the room.]
ROCHE: I don't believe we've been introduced... Vernon Roche.
GERALT: Walk around behind me if you want to shake.
ROCHE: How foolish of me. Ves! Unshackle him.
[Ves comes in and does so.]
GERALT: Geralt... of Rivia. Care to introduce us?
VES: No thanks.
ROCHE: Bring something to drink. We can't sit here cotton-mouthed.
GERALT: Fuck you.
ROCHE: Nasty... And after we've been through so much...
GERALT: Same side of the barricade then, opposite sides of the table now.
ROCHE: You can change that.
GERALT: You want me to sit on your lap?
ROCHE: Ves! Unshackle him.
ROCHE: You will tell me everything you remember, the entire assault... and all that happened in the solar.
GERALT: And if I refuse?
ROCHE: I shall have to beat you. I've commanded the special forces for a while. Got good at beating others. You're a witcher. You'd endure much.
GERALT: You better believe it.
ROCHE: Worst case scenario - you'll suffer through it, go back to your cell, and tomorrow...
ROCHE: They'll publicly gut you, skin you and hang you.
GERALT: Just like that? For nothing?
ROCHE: No. For Temeria.
GERALT: Downright praiseworthy. Where should I start?
ROCHE: It was a long day. I wish to hear the important bits.
GERALT: Just so we're clear on this, I was not eager to go into battle.
GERALT: But Foltest is not someone you refuse.
[Geralt wakes and sits up on a bed inside a tent. Triss is lying beside him, naked and still sleeping. He runs his hand up her body and she wakes up. They embrace, but are interrupted by a soldier opening the tent flap.]
TRISS: Witcher, are you up?!
GERALT: Pfff...
TRISS: His Majesty, King of Temeria, Pontar, Mahakam and Sodden, Senior Protector of Brugge... summons Master Geralt to appear before him.
GERALT: Tell him I'll be there shortly.
TRISS: Sorry to intrude like this, m'Lady, but the King...
GERALT: We heard you.
TRISS: A pleasant day to you, m'Lady, witcher.
[Soldier leaves.]
GERALT: Stupid war... It could've been such a beautiful morning...
TRISS: A war can never be stupid when waged by your king.
GERALT: A wise war is a contradiction, Triss.
TRISS: Then maybe you know just how I should advise our lustful monarch?
GERALT: Stop falling in love, sire no further bastards, and don't wage stupid wars.
TRISS: Genius. You know these bastards could vie for the throne in the future? Then we'd have an even more senseless conflict.
GERALT: Which doesn't change the fact that...
GERALT: They've cleared the forests, they're pillaging nearby villages, and they'll soon be murdering each other en masse. Why? Because Foltest's having a spat with the mother of his bastard twins...
GERALT: This is a really stupid war, Triss.
TRISS: Bastards or not, the children are still royal blood. The La Valettes are an old Temerian dynasty and the mix is sufficient basis to vie for the crown... History has known stranger contenders.
GERALT: Which doesn't change the fact that...
TRISS: I know, Foltest and the other northern monarchs are neither the smartest nor the most refined. But they're kings, one of whom we serve.
GERALT: And I'll see Foltest as summoned - protect him if need be - but once the castle falls, we leave.
[Geralt puts on his armor, not looking at Triss.]
TRISS: Did you dream of the Wild Hunt again?
GERALT: Mhm...
GERALT: One of the scouts swears he saw a dragon down by the river... Claims he ran into a Scoia'tael unit. That would've been it if the dragon hadn't swooped down. The elves apparently bowed in prayer and he escaped.
TRISS: A dragon? In the midst of civilization? Please... Besides, does it matter? Witchers don't hunt dragons. Or has something changed?
GERALT: Nothing's changed. And you're right, it's probably not a dragon. Although it could be a forktail or a slyzard, maybe even an overgrown wyvern...
TRISS: The scout ran into some elves and scurried away - that's how that story begins and ends.
GERALT: The unlucky assassin - how did the autopsy go?
TRISS: It was a nightmare. In the month since you killed him, the King's medics poked around in his corpse like a bunch of amateurs. What arrived in that cart... well, I wouldn't even call it a corpse...
GERALT: Foltest has some trust issues. Did you learn anything?
TRISS: His pupils suggested he could probably see in the dark as well as you. I couldn't put an age on him.
GERALT: The killer snuck past all the guards and nearly killed Foltest and me a month ago. And now you tell me he was a witcher?
TRISS: Possibly. I'm just saying what the autopsy showed. I haven't told anyone, nor do I plan to. I know what it could do to you if it got out.
TRISS: You might be a savior, a king's witcher now, but masters can be as fickle as the colts they ride...
GERALT: I get the feeling that dream's important. Running franticly through the forest, the Wild Hunt – they're the last things I remember.
GERALT: I wake up and try to relive the dream and the memory, hoping I'll find some guidance. Some clue to grab onto, something that'll help me recover my memory...
TRISS: Dreams can be very powerful. Some people claim they can even shape reality.
GERALT: People claim a lot of things. The problem is - it's often nonsense.
TRISS: We'll know in time, I'm sure of it.
GERALT: All right. Time to look to the lustful king and his stupid war.
TRISS: I'll join you later.
[On his way to see Foltest, Geralt comes across a circle of men talking to each other.]
DESBRUT: Word is, way up north there's a tribe of wild men who go into battle stark naked.
KENNET: Whereas you'll have your trousers protectin' your jewels, and that magic amulet! Hah! I wager you'll send the La Valettes running...
NEWBOY: I just know I'm gonna die... Shite, I don't wanna die on a bet.
KENNET: It's the Crinfrid Reavers' honor that's at stake here. This is no time to whimper.
DESBRUT: You one of us or not?
KENNET: Ooh! Lookie there, Newboy, it's that witcher... Geralt of Rivia ought to know about amulets.
NEWBOY: Witcher, sir! I've a question for you...
GERALT: We know each other?
KENNET: Don't recognize your old mates? We're the Crinfrid Reavers.
GERALT: I lost my memory.
DESBRUT: As did Boholt! After the hunt for the golden dragon, he took a spill and hit his head on a rock. He can still be a beast in battle, but 'sides that, he don't do much save eat and shit. Rarely even lusts after women...
GERALT: I doubt that's amnesia...
KENNET: I'm Kennet, and this one here they call Desbrut, and this is Newboy - he's, uh, apprenticing with us, like. Haven't had much luck with monsters of late, so we enlisted. Now Newboy's gotten hisself into this wager situation...Would you help us for old time's sake?
KENNET: I mean, we all got a little riled, but those are bygones, as I see it...
DESBRUT: We'd have set you free, the sorceress, too. Boholt was just foolin' about the rapin' and all.
GERALT: What rape?
KENNET: Shut your trap, Desbrut. The witcher don't remember - waste of words to remind him. We're old mates, that's that.
GERALT: So you'd have raped this old mate?
KENNET: Just the sorceress. You were there to kill the dragon, the sorceress, too, the peasants wanted at it, everyone did... But, there was only one prize. And we argued, there was some commotion, a regular rumble, in fact.
KENNET: We tied you up like hogs, meanin' you and the sorceress, and went after the beast. But that dragon thrashed us so hard we spent the next half year lickin' our wounds. And you done freed yourselves of your bonds...
GERALT: Who was the sorceress?
KENNET: Raven-haired she was... Hm, remember her name Desbrut?
DESBRUT: Err, Connifer or some such... So, willin' to help some old friends, witcher?
GERALT: Sorry, I'm fresh out of time. The King's summoned me.
DESBRUT: Aww, piss off, witcher. You haven't changed a bit. Just ploughin' a different witch!
GERALT: What was that?
KENNET: Newboy, grab your sword. You only live once. Let the knighthood see that we Crinfrid Reavers...
GERALT: Wait, this sorceress...
KENNET: No time to help your mates, but you're glad to stop and talk about some bird, eh?
DESBRUT: Maybe we ought to try this talisman on the witcher...
KENNET: We'd hang. He's the King's favorite now. They're sounding the assembly. That's us.
NEWBOY: I'll feel like a git going out in knickers alone...You sure it'll work?
KENNET: Let's go!
GERALT: There's clearly magic in the trinket, but I doubt it'll deflect swords or arrows...
NEWBOY: Shit, I knew it. I told you so, you idiot...
DESBRUT: Screw honor. Don your metal, Newboy, you'll go into battle confessional and all.
KENNET: So be it, though I'd like to have fleeced the noble. Damn shame...
[Same as "What's the story with the wager?"]
KENNET: It's a matter of life, death and quite a bit of coin, in point of fact... Newboy bet a knight that he'll survive the assault in his shirt and knickers alone. We'd drunk a bit by then, I admit, but a wager's a wager - our honor's at stake.
GERALT: A soldier's honor versus a knight's? I think I get it.
KENNET: The very core of the matter, witcher. We're slated to go in the first wave, so the going's liable to be hard. Newboy's brave, but he can't survive by courage alone... In any case, we've come into this bauble that's supposed to protect him, magically like.
KENNET: You mind casting an expert's glance at it, seeing as sorcery and such is not strange to you...?
GERALT: Lemme see this bauble.
NEWBOY: Your wolf medallion! I saw it shake!
GERALT: It reacts to magic...
DESBRUT: So it's true, what the priest said? Hear that, Newboy? You'll be safe. We'll fleece that knight, we will!
GERALT: Who knows. The amulet just might help.
KENNET: All right, that settles it. The witcher says the amulet'll help.
NEWBOY: Farkin' hell. I'll not go into battle in me knickers alone!
KENNET: Nuggin, we win that wager, we'll be rich men, remember that. Besides, what's the joy in taking a castle in full plate? They'll sing ballads about you, I tell you.
KENNET: They're sounding the assembly... That's us. Thanks, witcher. We'll be sure to get you a share of those winnings.
DESBRUT: And who knows, we might get another shot at that golden dragon some day...
GERALT: There's clearly magic in the trinket, but I doubt it'll deflect swords or arrows...
DESBRUT: Shit, I knew it. I told you so, you idiot...
DESBRUT: Screw honor. Don your metal, Newboy, you'll go into battle confessional and all.
KENNET: So be it, though I'd like to have fleeced the noble. Damn shame...
GERALT: Where did you get this talisman?
KENNET: We came by it, let's say...
KENNET: We were on patrol, see, and ran into a couple of novice priestesses praying at this shrine... They were nice, smiling and all...
DESBRUT: We done wanted to take them two on patrol, ooooh, but...!
KENNET: Shut it! Boholt had one of his rare moments of clairvoyance, went rummaging in the shrine and found the amulet...
DESBRUT: Who knows what goes on in that head of his, but every now and then he wakes up as good old Boholt.
KENNET: Aye, he still cuts 'em down with a single wallop. In any case, we took the amulet and went off to find the rest of the patrol. Ah, the wonders we saw! First ran into some Squirrels, vicious ones, arrows flyin' everywhere, but we came through untouched... Barely three of the others still standing when a dragon swooped down, the elves fell to their knees, and we all legged it. The amulet's magic for certain...
GERALT: Though it failed to protect the shrine from your patrolling...
KENNET: Aye, true. Well, now we dunno what to think.
[Same as "The amulet could help."]
[Same as "I doubt it."]
GERALT: Who knows. Maybe the amulet is unlucky, maybe it draws trouble. I doubt you left the shrine untouched... Then the Scoia'tael, the dragon...
DESBRUT: I told you as much! We need to get the boy some plate!
KENNET: Wait a minute. We owe the witcher some thanks....
DESBRUT: But we're broke as shit peddlers...
KENNET: Fancy the amulet, witcher? It might draw trouble, be cursed in some way, but you might lift the curse, sell it off...
GERALT: I'll take it.
KENNET: It's all yours.
GERALT: I have problems enough as it is.
DESBRUT: Witcher, you available for normal business still? Willin' to hunt monsters?
GERALT: Yeah, I'm willin'. Why do you ask?
DESBRUT: Well, cos we were out with those scouts that saw the dragon... No one believes us, but...
KENNET: They're sounding the assembly... That's us. But we'll find you after the battle, witcher.
GERALT: Wait...
KENNET: Farewell.
[Geralt continues through the camp.]
GUARD 2: Go see Foltest, Geralt, 'fore the fury hits him and he hacks off your head.
GUARD 1: Foltest said if you don't hurry, he'll rip your balls off.
GUARD 2: And make a witcher's medallion out of 'em.
[Geralt finds Foltest at the top of the hill where the ballistae are firing. Foltest is talking to Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, the Nilfgaardian ambassador.]
FOLTEST: A beautiful day for battle! Fear not, Excellency, we're out of range of their arbalists.
SHILARD: I'm no warrior, Sire, I must admit. I prefer to joust verbally or with a pen, the emissary of peace that I am...
FOLTEST: Hogwash! You're the emissary of the White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes, the Emperor of Nilfgaard, who spared no blood conquering over a dozen sovereign realms!
SHILARD: Thus bringing them laws, culture and peace above all.
FOLTEST: Finally! Traitors of the realm boil tar on the walls while you dally with the royal advisor.
GERALT: How may I assist you, Sire?
FOLTEST: We mount an assault today, and you'll be at my side. Follow me, gentlemen, let's not keep the traitors waiting.
[A ballista missile strikes the ground nearby.]
SHILARD: Sire, you said we were out of range...
FOLTEST: That was a ballista, Excellency. Its arms strengthened with bronze plates and strung with horsehair, it can propel heavy bolts up to a mile away. A deadly and very costly weapon.
FOLTEST: An experienced crew can cock and release two bolts each minute. Yet it has one flaw.
SHILARD: Your Grace, please take cover!
FOLTEST: The recoil of the arms is so strong upon firing...
[Another missile strikes, further away.]
FOLTEST: ...that the weapon shifts. It simply cannot hit the same spot twice.
SHILARD: I had no idea Your Grace was a learned military engineer...
FOLTEST: I'm not. I gave the baroness those ballistae two years ago, for her birthday...
SCARRED SOLDIER: Sire...
FOLTEST: What say you, Excellency, of men who live in spite of such wounds?
SHILARD: And what say you, Your Grace, of soldiers who inflict them?
SCARRED SOLDIER: Those who did this live no more!
SHILARD: Master Geralt, I wish to converse with you once the storm of battle has subsided.
GERALT: Forgive me, Excellency, but I plan to leave the royal court as soon as possible.
SHILARD: Might I know why?
GERALT: Too often they take me for someone I'm not.
FOLTEST: What do they call you, soldier? Wait! You served with me at Brenna and during our foray into the Pontar Valley... Norman Sador. Still an arbalist?
NORMAN: Yes, Sire. Fate has not been kind to me.
FOLTEST: Hah! Norman Sador, for your years of faithful service to the Crown, I appoint you decurion of the arbalists!
FOLTEST: Onwards, gentlemen. No reason to dawdle.
SHILARD: Forgive my candor, Your Majesty, but I must ask: What fate awaits the royal bastards when...
FOLTEST: They're my children! If I hear "bastard" one more time someone will die! Painfully!
SHILARD: Your Grace, forgive me, but the laws of succession are irrefutably clear...
FOLTEST: Piss on the laws! I'll change them, if need be! Above all, I'll not allow a band of treacherous barons to use my children as their banner.
SHILARD: Your Majesty is entirely within his rights.
FOLTEST: Adda is dead. And I have no other children...
SHILARD: I see.
FOLTEST: This conversation is over, Excellency. Please retire to your tent.
FOLTEST: Thanks to Geralt of Rivia, my daughter, Adda, is alive and is now the wife of Radovid of Redania.
SHILARD: I see.
FOLTEST: I fear you do not, Excellency. The midget king merely awaits my demise.
SHILARD: I am certain King Radovid of Redania wishes Your Majesty a long and healthy life.
FOLTEST: That wasn't even amusing, Excellency. The old families will never accept a Redanian on my throne. Adda will have to content herself with Redania.
SHILARD: I understand - the issue of succession remains unresolved. Your Grace, I request your permission to retire.
FOLTEST: You have it.
FOLTEST: Black Ones in my camp before a battle - what has the world come to? Nothing would make me happier than returning his shriveled head to Emhyr in a sack... But Triss Merigold insisted I be patient and courteous. Was I?
GERALT: I couldn't have handled it better myself.
FOLTEST: Hah! I always knew you were one of us. And bugger what folk say. They talked about Adda no end...
GERALT: Not really. I actually saw His Excellency sweat. But that'll be our secret.
FOLTEST: Hah! You brought your sense of humor along.
FOLTEST: Have you learned anything about the assassin?
GERALT: Triss did an autopsy. It's possible he was a witcher.
FOLTEST: A witcher? What have I ever done to the ploughing witchers? Anything more?
GERALT: He had no medallion, but that doesn't mean anything.
FOLTEST: Many in your shoes would have withheld that information.
FOLTEST: After the battle, Triss will report to me. For now, let us tend to the traitors.
GERALT: Nothing new, Sire. A month's passed and we don't know any more than we knew when we began. This investigation's going nowhere...
FOLTEST: My agents have learned little, also. But we'll find the culprits, it's just a question of time. Now for the battle.
FOLTEST: I want you at my side today. Then you may go where you please.
GERALT: Thank you, Sire.
[Foltest and Geralt continue up the hill where soldiers are manning the ballistae.]
FOLTEST: Where are you aiming, imbeciles?! Soldier, spyglass!
FOLTEST: What is going on up there...? The gods! Count Etcheverry! Catch, witcher.
[Foltest tosses the spyglass to Geralt, who raises it to his eye.]
FOLTEST: Aim for the rogue with the red plume! Not six months ago he swore eternal friendship to me! Quickly! How much higher?
FOLTEST: Did we hit the bastard?
GERALT: He's down.
FOLTEST: Hah! One less traitor. Time to attack. Follow me, witcher.
FOLTEST: Did we hit the bastard?
GERALT: He ducked.
FOLTEST: Dammit! We'll get him on the walls. Follow me, witcher!
[Geralt and Foltest enter a siege engine and begin climbing the ladders.]
FOLTEST: You know, witcher, I'm prepared to forgive Louisa. All she need do is to kneel before her king.
GERALT: Very noble of you.
FOLTEST: Are you mocking me? Never mind. I'm certain Louisa will realize her mistakes. Besides, children should have a mother.
GERALT: I'm lost...
FOLTEST: It's quite simple. Louisa and I had a bit of a tiff. She made demands I could not fulfill... Understand?
GERALT: I think so.
FOLTEST: Count Etcheverry, and others, immediately intervened, all noble, all sympathetic. They claimed the evil king would take her children, but they would protect them, even place them on the throne...
FOLTEST: And the baroness was duped, her motherly love used. In truth, they desire privileges that would weaken the throne.
[At the top of the engine, Foltest stops in front of the assembled soldiers.]
FOLTEST: Look alive, men!
SOLDIERS: HAIL TO THE KING!
FOLTEST: Where the hell are we headed?!
SOLDIERS: THE WALLS!
FOLTEST: What the fuck do we want?!
SOLDIERS: VICTORY!
FOLTEST: This I like...!
SOLDIERS: [cheering]
SOLDIER: Eyes on the bridge! We're nearly there! Weapons at the ready!!
[Back in the castle dungeons with Roche...]
GERALT: That tower was ridiculous.
ROCHE: It was designed to break the rebels' morale.
GERALT: A bunch of lords and lordlings took a ride to then pompously stride on top of the walls, while the real army fought and died below them in the shit and piss-filled streets.
ROCHE: If years of service have taught me anything, it's that the highborn don the best costumes and get the best vantage points, whether at a ball or in battle.
ROCHE: But it's not the time for that kind of jousting, witcher.... Continue your story.
GERALT: Things went relatively smoothly after we came out of that tower...
GERALT: That is, until we ran into Aryan La Valette.
[The siege engine shakes as it makes contact with the walls. Geralt and the soldiers spring into battle. After the fighting, Foltest gives orders.]
FOLTEST: Lord Seuxen, you shall push for the center isle and bring down that gate!
SEUXEN: It's a good day to kill, Your Majesty. Follow me, gentlemen! For Temeria!
FOLTEST: Lord Swann, you and your men shall follow me. We must capture or otherwise deal with Aryan La Valette in order to break the defenders' morale.
SWANN: Yes, Your Grace.
FOLTEST: Geralt, Gentlemen. Follow me! For the glory!
[Temerian forces approach the tower, but are repelled by arrow fire.]
FOLTEST: Fall back, gods dammit. I forbid you to die like imbeciles, hear me?!
FOLTEST: They've taken a good position, the bastards. If this persists, they'll pick us off like ducks! And I'm no duck. Any ideas?
[Geralt looks over the walls to a ballista in the courtyard.]
GERALT: That ballista would do the trick.
[Geralt fights his way through the courtyard and launches a ballista bolt at the tower. After Geralt rejoins Foltest on the walls, Foltest's forces fight their way through and smash open the tower door. Aryan La Valette, still with the high ground, taunts the approaching forces.]
ARYAN: Desist! Or be put down like the rabid dogs you are!
FOLTEST: Aryan La Valette. This will be no easy task...
FOLTEST: Surrender, Aryan! You'll be treated with honor!
ARYAN: Go plough yourself, King!
FOLTEST: Bury them in arrows! Come on, men! For Temeria!
GERALT: They're well shielded.
FOLTEST: You got a better idea?
GERALT: I'll try to get inside. It shouldn't be hard if the archers provide cover.
FOLTEST: That's the son of Louisa and the old baron, heir to these lands. He's hot-tempered but good with a sword. Be careful.
GERALT: I'll try to reason with him.
FOLTEST: Cover the witcher!
[Geralt makes his way alone up to the top of the tower where Aryan is.]
ARYAN: Halt! He's mine.
ARYAN: The famed Geralt of Rivia. You've fallen low, witcher. Word has it you're one of the best swordsmen in the north. Time to test that rumor.
GERALT: If you insist.
[Geralt kills Aryan and his men.]
GERALT: Enough slaughter. Surrender and Foltest will treat you and your men with honor.
ARYAN: And what guarantee is there that he'll not cut us down to the last?
GERALT: None.
ARYAN: Foltest defiled my mother. Now he colludes with Nilfgaard.
GERALT: The King leads an army, you have but a few brave men and your honor. In a minute, you may lose even those. Choose.
ARYAN: Hear that, men? The King sends a witcher and we are to surrender, forgetting the very nature of honor and pride! We must choose - shame, or a witcher's sword...
ARYAN: Is that how you would live? Will you bow your heads before Foltest?! LA VALETTE SOLDIER: Never!
ARYAN: You heard them, witcher.
GERALT: Don't be a fool, this is no game - your men don't need to die... Surrender and the King will show mercy.
ARYAN: My mother has seen enough of this King's mercy!
GERALT: What'll you do? Throw yourself on my sword? Run?
ARYAN: He made Mother a harlot, then denied her before all the realm!
GERALT: True enough. But no massacre, no misguided heroism will change that. Drop your weapons.
ARYAN: Should anything happen to my mother... I shall find you and kill you.
[Aryan and his men surrender.]
GERALT: This is between us.
ARYAN: So be it. Stand back, men!
ARYAN: My nanny told me stories about you when I couldn’t sleep. I especially liked the one of Renfri and her rogues. As I grew, I dreamed of facing you one day.
GERALT: That dream will not have a happy ending. For you.
[Geralt kills Aryan in single combat.]
GERALT: If you insist.
[Geralt kills Aryan and his men.]
[Geralt signals to Foltest and his men below.]
[Back in the castle dungeons with Roche...]
ROCHE: Aryan La Valette laid down his sword. Well, well...
GERALT: Have you spoken to him?
ROCHE: Briefly. Just before they took him off to the torture chamber. The hard luck of a traitor.
ROCHE: The successor of one of Temeria's oldest families perished at the hands of a monster slayer. A sign of the times, I suppose.
GERALT: You mourn Aryan?
ROCHE: No. He was one of a dying breed. And he was a traitor.
ROCHE: Continue.
GERALT: While I remember... What happened to the dragon?
ROCHE: It destroyed half the castle, killed hoards of soldiers and flew off.
GERALT: Where?
ROCHE: In the general direction of Aedirn.
GERALT: To think it almost killed us all.
[At the base of a tower, Foltest shouts up to a La Valette soldier.]
FOLTEST: Aryan La Valette has surrendered the castle! Open up!
LA VALETTE SOLDIER: And the Baron lives?!
FOLTEST: Yes, he lives! I'm not spiteful! Open this gate, kneel before your king and I shall show you mercy!
GERALT: Looks like we're stuck.
TRISS: Indeed, and my magic's no good here. The main force, down in those boats, is going to beat us to town.
GERALT: Want to head back to the tent? The camp'll be nice and empty now. I've had enough for today.
TRISS: Tempting... Ah, look! The King's special forces.
LA VALETTE SOLDIER: We want to see him!
FOLTEST: You doubt my words, dog?! Open the gate now!
LA VALETTE SOLDIER: What of the Baron?!
FOLTEST: You really had to kill him...?
[A Temerian soldier kills the La Valette soldier from behind.]
ROCHE: No other way, sometimes.
[The gate opens. Vernon Roche crosses the drawbridge.]
ROCHE: Sire.
FOLTEST: Vernon Roche.
FOLTEST: Tell me, Roche.
ROCHE: There's fighting in the town. A section of our forces crossed the river in fishing boats and swarmed the streets, burning, raping, pillaging... The La Valettes are making a stand near the temple.
FOLTEST: What of the Baroness?
ROCHE: Alive and safely tucked away.
FOLTEST: Unsoiled, I hope.
ROCHE: As you ordered, Sire. She's fine – and beautiful as ever. The children were not with her...
FOLTEST: But you know where they are?
ROCHE: In the monastery, but we've yet to penetrate that area...
[The dragon swoops in.]
GERALT: Cross! Quickly!
ROCHE: Protect the King!
[Geralt, Roche, Triss, and Foltest quickly run across the exposed walkway, avoiding dragon fire and fighting through La Valette soldiers.]
LA VALETTE SOLDIER: Dragon! Take cover! To the hoardings!
ROCHE: Witcher, how do you fight something like that?
GERALT: You don't! You run!
ROCHE: Some professional you are...
GERALT: We've got to get to the town. We might stand a chance there.
TRISS: It's a dragon! I can't believe it!
FOLTEST: Merigold, stop admiring it and do something!
TRISS: It's not that simple!
FOLTEST: Before the brute turns my army to cinders!
ROCHE: Is it true you witchers don't hunt dragons?
GERALT: Mhm.
ROCHE: This one doesn't seem to know that.
GERALT: Do you want me to go over and tell him?
ROCHE: I've no idea. You're the monster expert.
TRISS: Back up! I'll open the gate!
[Triss blasts open the portcullis. The dragon collapses the brickwork above her and she is forced to stay behind to stabilize the castle. The dragon intercepts Foltest, Roche, and Geralt crossing the burning bridge. Temerian soldiers distract the dragon with ballista bolts, and the dragon flies off.]
[Back in the castle dungeons with Roche...]
ROCHE: Ploughing dragon nearly reversed the course of the battle.
GERALT: The fighting should've scared it off.
ROCHE: Forget the dragon. I need to hear how this story ends.
GERALT: You were at my side almost all the time after the bridge collapsed.
ROCHE: Almost. Tell me how you got into the monastery courtyard.
[In the town at the locked temple gates, Foltest debriefs with his soldiers.]
FOLTEST: Ha! And they said we couldn't get near the walls! Half a day and the town is taken!
ROCHE: Report!
SOLDIER: Fighting for the castle continues, and a group of rebels have barricaded themselves inside the monastery.
FOLTEST: What of my children?
SOLDIER: Likely in the church as well, Sire. Fenn took a priest to task. Finally mumbled something about a passage 'neath the walls.
FOLTEST: It would take a week to get a battering ram in here.
ROCHE: Axes, Sire?
FOLTEST: That will also take time, but what other course do we have? This priest? What of him? What of this passage?
FENN: He fainted 'fore I could really get going on him. He's under guard below.
FOLTEST: You've some work to do, commander.
ROCHE: Yes, Sire. Silas, you look to this door. Fenn, come with me.
FOLTEST: Witcher!
GERALT: Your Grace?
FOLTEST: I've a mission for you, one suited to your abilities. Vernon can be persuasive, but he's also hot-tempered, at times losing both his self-control and his subject.
FOLTEST: You must try to find this other passage on your own. Succeed and you'll be the envy of all Vizima.
GERALT: Soldiers loyal to the La Valettes would never harm the baroness's children.
FOLTEST: I shall be reassured as to that when I see them, not before. We must act quickly. The rebels are dispersed, in disarray. As dimwitted as they are, I fear they could conclude the children would make good hostages.
GERALT: Maybe Roche'll get something out of this priest. It's a relatively large town, I could use a hint.
FOLTEST: I'm counting on him, but time is of the essence. Please explore the area. We seek a tunnel or something similar. Beware of traps, they may have planted some. You're best suited to this, my men lack your skills.
GERALT: All right. I'll go.
FOLTEST: I'm relying on you, witcher.
[Geralt enters the town and sees a woman run out of a house.]
WOMAN: Gods help us!
[A soldier steps out from the doorway and shoots her down from behind. Geralt enters the house to see Temerian soldiers intimidating townspeople.]
GERALT: These people are unarmed.
SOLDIER: This is not your concern. Get lost!
GERALT: Get out of here, now.
SOLDIER 2: Listen, creep - stop meddling in other people's business!
SOLDIER 2: Let's go.
GERALT: Get out of here now, or you'll leave when I feed your corpses to the stray dogs.
SOLDIER 2: Listen, creep - stop meddling in other people's business!
SOLDIER 2: Let's go.
GERALT: You'd better go. The dragon's about to burn down this town, lock, stock and barrel.
SOLDIER 2: Listen, creep - stop meddling in other people's business!
SOLDIER 2: Let's go.
GERALT: I'm outta here.
SOLDIER: A wise decision.
MAN: Thank you sir, thank you...
GERALT: Be careful. You may not be so lucky next time.
GERALT: I help people. That's how I make a living.
MAN: We know...
MAN: Here... take this pouch...
GERALT: Find a place to hide.
MAN: I must find my wife first. They herded her away with others like cattle...
GERALT: Good luck.
[Around the corner, Geralt sees Temerian soldiers preparing to set a house on fire with people inside.]
TEMERIAN SOLDIER: Hurry up, we haven't got all day!
TEMERIAN SOLDIER: Fire will cleanse your tainted souls.
TEMERIAN SOLDIER: Faster with those logs!
GERALT: What the hell's going on here?
COMMANDER: Not your concern.
GERALT: Leave them alone! They're innocent!
COMMANDER: Innocent?! They're with the La Valettes! Weeds that need to be ripped out with their roots so they won't grow back again! Treason spreads like the plague. No one will leave here alive. And you - stay out of this!
GERALT: I won't stand by while you murder innocents.
COMMANDER: So, what'll you do?
GERALT: Kill you.
COMMANDER: I was not after your blood! I have witnesses!
[Geralt engages the commander in single combat.]
COMMANDER: You win. Mercy.
GERALT: Let the people out and walk away.
COMMANDER: Unblock the door!
COMMANDER: I'll report this.
GERALT: Yeah, you do that.
[Geralt enters the building.]
OLD WOMAN: Leave us be!
GERALT: You're free.
MAN: Thank you, m'Lord.
GERALT: I can't live on gratitude alone.
OLD WOMAN: We're poor, sir!
GERALT: Do I need to search your pockets?
GERALT: That looks about right to me.
OLD WOMAN: Bastard...!
GERALT: Damn.
OLD WOMAN: Rogue...
GERALT: Find a place to hide until this madness ends.
MAN: But where...?
[Later, this sidequest reaches a conclusion in Chapter 1.]
[After finding a way into the temple through the sewers, Geralt looks through a wall opening to see elves lingering by boats on the riverbank.]
GERALT: Scoia'tael...
[Geralt fights his way through the guards and opens the gate from the inside to let Roche and Foltest into the template.]
FOLTEST: You have just become the most titled witcher in the world. And the wealthiest.
GERALT: I'll remind you of that when this is all over, Sire.
FOLTEST: See, Vernon? Geralt succeeded.
ROCHE: Lucky he did. The priest was downright discourteous and went off to meet his gods.
GERALT: I saw Scoia'tael on the river.
ROCHE: Where? How many? What colors did they wear?
FOLTEST: Plough the elves. We'll tend to them later. The monastery awaits!
[Back in the castle dungeons with Roche...]
ROCHE: Scoia'tael. This puzzle is beginning to come together, Geralt. You're either telling the truth, or weaving a very convincing lie.
ROCHE: I want to hear the rest. Foltest's bastards, the solar. What happened?
GERALT: We might've arrived at the same time, if not for Tailles.
ROCHE: Be specific, witcher.
GERALT: Well, the archpriest told the truth.
[Inside the temple, Roche, Foltest, and Geralt are confronted by Count Tailles and the archpriest.]
TAILLES: His Majesty, King Foltest of Temeria.
FOLTEST: Arthur Tailles, erstwhile Count of Nessvelt. I signed your sentence.
TAILLES: Yes, yet the Baroness saw fit to pardon me. An awkward situation, to be sure.
FOLTEST: Anais and Boussy... where are they?
TAILLES: The royal children?
FOLTEST: Don't test my patience, Tailles, and I'll grant you a quick death.
ARCHPRIEST: Confess, Foltest! Before the gods and the people! Boussy and Anais are the fruit of your loins! Bow to the Gods and admit the truth!
FOLTEST: You may not have noticed, Tailles, but I just took this town.
TAILLES: Aided by murderers, sorcerers and a mutant for whom nothing is holy.
ARCHPRIEST: This is hallowed ground! You will not raise your hand against a servant of the gods!
GERALT: Where have you taken the children?
ARCHPRIEST: The solar... They're in the solar.
TAILLES: What is this? Blasphemy! Sorcerer's tricks!
GERALT: Quiet down, Tailles, this is a church.
TAILLES: I'll not forget this, mutant. You hear?
ROCHE: Holy man unharmed and the noble gets slapped. A win-win situation if ever I've seen one...
TAILLES: Mutant... Freak... Stinking murderer - I remember Blaviken.
[Geralt, Roche, and Foltest leave the main temple room.]
FOLTEST: Damn, I've seen assaults go awry, but the dragon topples them all.
ROCHE: Tops.
FOLTEST: Tops what?
ROCHE: Well... tops all.
FOLTEST: Damn nonsense! Geralt, you should know... Is it possible to tame a dragon?
GERALT: Not as far as I know.
ROCHE: Then why is this reptile eating only my men?!
FOLTEST: Let's hope Merigold got out of there.
GERALT: I'm sure she did.
ROCHE: If not, you'll need a new advisor, Sire.
GERALT: Shut up, Roche.
ROCHE: It's possible that the dragon simply...
GERALT: Another word from you and the dragon will not be your main concern.
FOLTEST: Enough! Both of you!
[As they come out onto the bridge, the dragon reappears.]
FOLTEST: The dragon's back!
[Geralt helps Foltest across the bridge, and wedges his silver sword into the dragon's mouth, saving them both.]
FOLTEST: You saved my life again. Ask what you will of me, witcher - within reason, of course.
GERALT: I need to leave, Sire. I'd like Triss Merigold to come with me. If she wants...
FOLTEST: Are you blind? She's enamored with you.
FOLTEST: You may leave and none shall stop you. You have my word.
[At the top of the stairs, they find Anais and Boussy playing together with Letho disguised as a blind monk looking after them.]
LETHO: Who goes there?
FOLTEST: Foltest. I've come for my children. Geralt, wait here, you might scare them...
LETHO: Aaaah... Thanks be to the gods. My prayers are answered.
[Anais goes to hug her father, but Boussy hesitates.]
LETHO: Go, Boussy.
BOUSSY: That's not my father.
LETHO: But it is your king, boy.
LETHO: Bells... Your triumph is complete - the city and fortress taken, Sire. Time to thank the Forefather and the Mother Creatrix for this great victory.
FOLTEST: A moment, blind man. I've not seen my children in six months. The gods can spare another minute.
FOLTEST: Listen to me. Your mother and I quarreled, but that is over. She was deceived - evil men turned her against me. These men have been punished and all will be well from now.
FOLTEST: No tears, Boussy. One day you'll be King and kings do not weep.
LETHO: Armed men approach, Sire... Children, go to the refectory.
FOLTEST: My knights will soon be here. You must meet them, for one day you will rule them. Boussy, go wash your face - they must not see that you wept.
LETHO: There's a bucket of water in the next room.
FOLTEST: Anais, help your brother.
[The children leave the room.]
LETHO: Sire, let us pray...
FOLTEST: They must look like the royal children they are.
LETHO: Hmm... They have your eyes, Sire.
[Letho removes his blindfold and attacks Foltest, beheading him before Geralt can react, and escapes out the window. Foltest's men arrive to find Foltest dead and Geralt alone in the room.]
[Back in the castle dungeons with Roche...]
ROCHE: Hm, I suppose that's the extent of what you'll give me.
GERALT: Does this mean I'm free?
ROCHE: Foltest, King of Temeria... has been murdered. Unfortunately for you, you're the only suspect.
GERALT: The murderer outsmarted you, so I'm to rot in this dungeon.
ROCHE: Oh, no danger of you rotting - you'll hang.
GERALT: Convince them otherwise.
ROCHE: I have no influence over the court.
GERALT: Foltest told me a lot about you.
ROCHE: If not for him, I'd be a drunk or a vagrant. Foltest did more for me than my father ever did. But then, my father did exactly nothing for I never even met him. In any case, I'll not rest until the murderer is punished.
GERALT: Tell me how you serve, Vernon.
ROCHE: I carry out orders others are incapable of executing.
GERALT: What's the situation in Temeria?
ROCHE: The Council of Regents has convened to restore order. That means three things: utter chaos will prevail, Vizima will run dry of wine and strong drink, and the local whores will make a killing.
GERALT: Is Triss participating in the meetings?
ROCHE: Indeed. Only to find out that she's no longer needed.
GERALT: How do you know?
ROCHE: It's my business to know.
GERALT: They want to run a kingdom without a sorceress?
ROCHE: They already have a kingdom without a king - they'll use every opportunity to get rid of her.
GERALT: Who will rule?
ROCHE: The chief contenders are Count Maravel and Baron Kimbolt, who already tussle for control of La Valette Castle.
GERALT: What about Foltest's bastards...?
ROCHE: The King's blood runs in their veins, so yes, they are entitled to the throne, not some drooling nobles.
GERALT: What if someone vouched for me?
ROCHE: You have a witness?
GERALT: I was thinking of Triss.
ROCHE: Were she not your lover, who knows...But it's common knowledge she is.
GERALT: What happened to her?
ROCHE: Well, she's fine. She's been invited to the next meeting of the Council of Regents.
GERALT: For fuck's sake, you command the Blue Stripes. Do something! The real murderer is free, and he's further and further away with every hour you spend prancing around in here.
ROCHE: I find the killer-monk story unconvincing.
GERALT: I don't claim he was a monk. He was wearing a frock, though. He sailed off in a boat with some Scoia'tael.
ROCHE: Would you recognize him?
GERALT: No problem. A mountain of meat - never seen anyone bigger.
[Roche gets up and paces.]
ROCHE: What would you do if you escaped?
GERALT: I'd go have a beer.
ROCHE: Are you trying to annoy me?
GERALT: Vernon... If I escaped, you'd be the last to learn my plans.
ROCHE: Let me tell you a story.
GERALT: I hate stories.
ROCHE: There was once a witcher who was accused of murdering a monarch.
GERALT: Wrongly accused.
ROCHE: The charges against him were very serious and only one man could help him.
GERALT: Let me guess - a handsome prince.
ROCHE: The commander of the Blue Stripes. Sadly, the witcher refused his help and was hanged.
GERALT: I prefer happy endings.
ROCHE: Then help me, Geralt.
GERALT: Looks like I'm out of options - let's do this your way.
ROCHE: What would you do if you were freed?
[Continues the same as "I'd hunt down the killer."]
GERALT: What do you want from me, Roche? I already told you it wasn't me. On top of that, I don't know who's behind it, and frankly, I don't really give a damn. Could've been anyone, as I see it - King Demavend, even.
ROCHE: Demavend is dead.
GERALT: Is that true?
[Roche gets up and walks around to stand behind Geralt.]
ROCHE: He was murdered.
GERALT: Uh-huh. I did that, too.
ROCHE: You were in Vizima at the time. I checked.
GERALT: My doppelganger was in Vizima. I have three of them.
ROCHE: I'm no fool.
GERALT: You sure act like one.
ROCHE: I'm to learn who killed the King. And I will.
GERALT: You know I didn't, but you need to prove a point. Sons of whores like you would rather hang an innocent man than admit failure.
ROCHE: Don't ever call me a whore's son again.
[Geralt attacks Roche. Ves shoots him in the back with a crossbow.]
ROCHE: Another prisoner killed while trying to escape.
VES: Yes, sir.
[GAME OVER]
GERALT: You wanna get Foltest's murderer? Let's do it together.
ROCHE: Now you're talking.
GERALT: If you want me to help, treat me like a human, not a hog.
ROCHE: What do you want?
GERALT: I'd go after the kingslayer.
ROCHE: You know where to look for him?
GERALT: Some Scoia'tael helped him escape. That's where I'd start. I expect you might know this particular group of elves...
ROCHE: How'd you work that out?
GERALT: They wore blue-striped masks. Trophies, I expect.
ROCHE: Iorveth's commando. I know where to find them. We've a trail to follow after all.
GERALT: If you want to start over, and take it easy this time, get me some food.
ROCHE: Now that you mention it... Ves! Bring us food and drink.
GERALT: Huh! Shame you didn't think of that earlier.
ROCHE: It's your own fault, Geralt. Your fate is in your hands.
[Ves returns with food.]
ROCHE: Thank you.
GERALT: Never heard of women serving in the special forces.
ROCHE: Ves is one of my best people.
GERALT: How'd she wind up in the Blue Stripes?
ROCHE: I pulled her from the paws of the Scoia'tael. Just sixteen when they torched her village and slaughtered everyone. The unit commander took a liking and spared her.
ROCHE: One last thing: this file is about one Geralt of Rivia.
GERALT: And Foltest's death?
ROCHE: Actually, Geralt's death. The report details events from five years ago...
NARRATOR: Rivia - population 1234. In that, 253 nonhumans.
GERALT: I remember... Rivia, Yennefer...
ROCHE: What just happened?
GERALT: I saw... I saw my own death...
ROCHE: And the rest? Have you regained all your memory?
GERALT: That's all. I just remember the end...
ROCHE: Ves! Interrogation's done. Restrain the prisoner.
[Ves comes in and locks Geralt's hands behind his back.]
ROCHE: I'll take the key.
ROCHE: I sail upriver at dawn. Guards will collect you in five minutes. Eat. You'll need your strength...
[Roche leaves the key in front of Geralt, and exits.]
[Geralt is hanging in his cell again, listening to the guards gossip.]
GUARD 1: Not yesterday, he was a hero, pretty much. Everyone's man.
GUARD 2: Personally saw him cut down twenty men in the blink of an eye, so it's no surprise.
GUARD 1: Hmm... See him dashing 'long those walls? Can't rightly say I ever saw his sword, the blade moved so fast.
GUARD 2: I thought that beast would tear him to bits when it came out the clouds.
GUARD 1: Delayed don't mean denied. Hangman'll do that tomorrow.
GUARD 2: Heh, heh, heh, heh...
GUARD 1: What say we, uh... teach him a lesson, for what he did to Foltest?
GUARD 2: I'll not touch the scum - I'd get scurvy.
GUARD 1: Right. Hangman'll do it – he's poxy already.
GERALT: Guard! Come here, good man.
GUARD 1: Why're you hollerin'? Do that again and we'll shut you up.
GERALT: You got the wrong guy.
GUARD 2: You mean you didn't kill Foltest? Holy shit, boys, open the cell! We've got an innocent man in here.
GUARD 1: Ha, ha, ha, ha!
GUARD 2: Hope you're that funny during the execution tomorrow.
GERALT: I'm not the murderer. Wetnecking's not my style.
GUARD 1: That story won't get you anywhere. They caught you red–handed.
GERALT: Untrue. No one saw me do it.
GUARD 2: But they'll show up in droves tomorrow - to see your flesh burn in the grip of red hot pincers!
GERALT: How long are you going to keep me in here?
GUARD 2: Can't wait to see the hangman, eh? Don’t worry, tomorrow's your big day!
GUARD 1: I can't wait to see him skinned alive!
GERALT: You wouldn't say that if these bars weren't here.
GUARD 2: Is that so? Let's see...
GERALT: Hey, my manacles fell off. Can you help me get them back on?
GUARD 1: The freak's freed himself!
GUARD 2: How the devil did he do that?
GUARD 1: We've got to get in there! You go left, I'll go right.
[Geralt beats up the guards and makes his way out into the prison. After some time, he comes to someone being tortured. Pathway changes depending on whether Aryan La Valette is alive (2.15.1) or dead (2.15.2).]
[If you go to the right and drop down the trapdoor, Geralt will see Aryan being tortured through a gap in the wall.]
EXECUTIONER: Will you sign?
ARYAN: Go plough yourself!
EXECUTIONER: Anais and Boussy are my children. One signature and you'll hear the poem no more.
ARYAN: Never!
ARYAN: Aaaaargh...
EXECUTIONER: A dog tore into a kitchen, and grabbed a sausage link, a stupid cook took umbrage, and killed him in a blink.
ARYAN: Ooooh.
EXECUTIONER: Another cook done saw this, wise and good of heart, he made the dog a tombstone and carved this epitaph.
ARYAN: None will believe it!
EXECUTIONER: A dog tore into a kitchen, and grabbed a sausage link, a stupid cook took umbrage, and killed him in a blink.
[Geralt enters the room.]
EXECUTIONER: You're early. Appointment's not till tomorrow.
GERALT: Sorry, I'm in a hurry. You'll see me today.
[Geralt kills the executioner and releases Aryan, who falls to the ground.]
ARYAN: Sooner expected death than you, witcher.
GERALT: I thought about letting the Reaper in first.
ARYAN: Why are you here?
GERALT: We'll talk later. I need to get out of this dungeon and you're going to help me.
ARYAN: The La Valettes never leave their debts unsatisfied. Especially ones of honor. And I know these corridors better than anyone.
GERALT: Had a date with the hangman.
ARYAN: Why?
GERALT: They say I killed Foltest.
ARYAN: Shame. I'd hoped to do that myself.
ARYAN: But tell me – what of my mother? Did Foltest hurt her?
GERALT: He ordered the Blue Stripes to guard her like some invaluable treasure. Soon afterward, he was dead himself.
ARYAN: But you did not slay him?
GERALT: No, Aryan. I didn't kill him.
ARYAN: Do you know who did?
GERALT: No. But I intend to find out.
GERALT: Sorry, I have no idea.
ARYAN: We should go. We'll start by making our way to the oil store. I cannot walk unaided. You must help me.
GERALT: Lean on me.
[As they're walking out, they hear voices.]
SOLDIER 1: Done with him, hangman?
SOLDIER 2: We're to take the corpse!
GERALT: Dammit.
SOLDIER 1: Hangman's so "into" his victim, he can't hear us.
[Geralt nudges Aryan.]
ARYAN: What the...?
GERALT: Shout!
ARYAN: Aaaahhhhhh. I will not sign! Never!
SOLDIER 2: Ooh, he's a stubborn cocksucker.
SOLDIER 1: Best not disturb 'em. Hangman'll bring him out when he's done.
GERALT: I think they bought it. We need to be careful.
[If you go the other direction, Geralt instead sees Aryan being led out of the torture chamber by two guards. He manages to knock them out, but collapses, at which point Geralt reveals himself.]
GERALT: Stay calm, Aryan.
ARYAN: What are you doing here?
GERALT: Same thing as you.
ARYAN: Yes, but they imprisoned you. Why?
GERALT: They say I killed Foltest.
ARYAN: Shame. I'd hoped to do that myself.
GERALT: Some other time. For now, we have to get out of your castle. Any idea how to do that?
ARYAN: Of course.
GERALT: Lead the way?
ARYAN: You spared my life. The La Valettes never leave their debts unsatisfied. Especially ones of honor.
ARYAN: Do you know my mother's fate? Foltest did her no harm?
GERALT: News you can trust is hard to come by in wartime. I've heard nothing about her.
ARYAN: Fortunately, I know how to restore my family's honor.
GERALT: Foltest ordered the Blue Stripes to guard her like some invaluable treasure.
ARYAN: Bastard. Placing her among those dogs. One more nobly born should protect her, a baronet at least.
GERALT: Time to think about saving your life.
ARYAN: To me, honor is more important than life.
GERALT: What do you plan to do?
ARYAN: Not your concern. We must get to the oil store, where there's a way out.
[Geralt and Aryan navigate the prison.]
ARYAN: Up the stairs, this way.
ARYAN: Second door on the left - that's the oil store.
[Aryan reveals a secret passage.]
GERALT: Come with me. There's nothing you can do here.
ARYAN: I've more to do now than ever before.
GERALT: Alone?
ARYAN: I need no one's aid for what I aim to accomplish.
GERALT: Is that your final word?
ARYAN: Farewell, witcher.
[Geralt takes the secret passage, and behind him Aryan sets the oil barrels on fire.]
[If you go to the right and drop down the trapdoor, Geralt will see Baroness Louisa La Valette being tortured through a gap in the wall.]
LOUISA: You would not dare!
EXECUTIONER: I'm just following orders, m'Lady.
LOUISA: Who issued them?
EXECUTIONER: What's more important is what they require of me.
LOUISA: And what's that?
EXECUTIONER: One little signature confirming that Foltest did not sire your little bastards.
LOUISA: I shall sign whatever you wish.
EXECUTIONER: Of course you will, m'Lady. All succumb sooner or later.
LOUISA: Please... Not the iron, there's no need for the iron. I'll do what you wish.
EXECUTIONER: There's a right time for everything. Now's the time for the hot iron.
LOUISA: I beg you...
EXECUTIONER: Then we'll take some wedges to your nails, and finish off with spoons to the eyes. Hmmm... Only then - spent, your will broken for good - shall you sign what the scribe has prepared and have no desire to retract your confession.
LOUISA: Aaagh...
EXECUTIONER: Can't wait for it, eh, you harlot? Won't be long now. Just warmin' up my poker.
[Geralt breaks into the room and kills the executioner.]
LOUISA: I am at your mercy, witcher. What now?
GERALT: Cover yourself, m'Lady.
[Geralt turns away from her as Louisa fixes her dress.]
LOUISA: In better times, the King spoke to me of you... You must look me in the eyes when you answer: Did you slay Foltest?
GERALT: No.
LOUISA: Hmmmm.... I suppose I must believe you. You should be glad. I'd have to gouge out those devil's eyes otherwise.
GERALT: I am glad, m'Lady. I like my eyes.
LOUISA: Where are my children?
GERALT: Forgive me, but I just escaped my cell and can't count myself among the well-informed.
LOUISA: Then you are at my mercy. I know this dungeon better than anyone. Your chances of escaping are nil without my help, slim with it.
GERALT: I'll gladly take slim.
LOUISA: In that case, let us go. Along the way, you can tell me how my son, Aryan La Valette, died...
[Before they can leave the room, Shilard and two Nilfgaardian soldiers enter.]
SHILARD: They never miss. They're the elite of the Nilfgaardian army.
GERALT: You're kidding, right? There are only two of them.
SHILARD: Holding two of the best crossbows in the world.
GERALT: Your Excellency - here to oversee the interrogation?
SHILARD: I have come to assist the Baroness La Valette, former mistress of this castle. But I see she has found her champion already.
LOUISA: What do you want, Excellency?
SHILARD: To aid you, m'Lady. Or rather, to present a proposal.
LOUISA: The La Valettes have never made and will never make a pact with Nilfgaard.
SHILARD: Panta rei, Baroness. There are no constants in this world. It is time to adapt to the new order. Particularly now that Aryan and the King are no more. You and the royal children require protection.
LOUISA: Where are they?
SHILARD: In the upper castle. They are safe, unhurt thus far. I can guarantee their further safety and yours provided you can agree to Imperial protection, stomach, as it were, Nilfgaardians in your presence. Naturally, I expect nothing in return.
LOUISA: You contradict yourself, Ambassador, your ruse is not lost on me. But so be it. Now, take me to my children.
GERALT: I hadn't planned on going to the upper castle.
SHILARD: And rightly so. Many there tremble with anticipation for tomorrow's execution. I must resolve a few 'administrative' matters to deliver the Baroness from this oppression, and I will occupy, for ample time, I think, the guards at the main dungeon gate in the process. M'Lady, I leave you in the hands of this honorable knight. Witcher, count twenty heartbeats and follow me.
GERALT: Why would you aid a kingslayer, Excellency?
SHILARD: I aid a witcher who may find the real regicide. I'm a principled man who abhors all acts of violence, in addition to which the Empire I represent needs a stable North. But we digress. Twenty heartbeats, then follow.
GERALT: M'Lady, your son Aryan gave me no choice...
LOUISA: I know. Stubborn to the last as the La Valettes have always been. I trust he did not suffer...?
GERALT: I doubt he even sensed the final blow coming.
LOUISA: There's that, at least. You have spoken your piece, witcher. Go.
GERALT: I wouldn't trust him, m'Lady.
LOUISA: Do you believe I have a choice, witcher? By your estimation, how is it I find myself imprisoned now? The old families led by Kimbolt and Maravel wish to reap all they can for themselves. They dream of one of their own donning the crown, and my children are but an impediment. We require protection, and the Nilfgaardian knows this well. It is time. Go, witcher.
[If you go the other direction away from the trapdoor, Geralt instead witnesses two Nilfgaardian soldiers bring Louisa out into the hall where Shilard is waiting.]
SHILARD: I am Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, emissary of the Empire of Nilfgaard and its most divine Emperor Emhyr var Emreis...
LOUISA: What do you want of me, Nilfgaardian?
SHILARD: Simply to speak, m'Lady.
LOUISA: Ah, really...? Something you would not dare were my son still alive.
SHILARD: I very much regret the death of the Baron La Valette. Please accept my deepest condolences. Yet it is precisely his loss that renders our conversation mutually desirable.
LOUISA: Let go of me! I shall walk unaided. [Towards door of torture chamber] I shall return, rogue! And I shall repay you!
SHILARD: Let us go, m'Lady. Your cries can do us no good.
[Geralt makes his way to a room where Shilard and Louisa are talking.]
SHILARD: The La Valettes are a powerful dynasty, as the Emperor is fully aware.
LOUISA: What do you and your emperor want?
SHILARD: To take care of you, m'Lady. And your progeny, of course.
LOUISA: Selflessly?
SHILARD: That was unnecessary.
[Geralt opens the door.]
SHILARD: Come in, Master Geralt. Allow me to introduce the Baroness La Valette, mother to the royal children, who at present mourns the passing of her eldest son...
GERALT: M'Lady.
SHILARD: I comfort the baroness with assurances that House La Valette need suffer no more, its future brighter as it stands protected by the Empire of Nilfgaard.
LOUISA: Did you kill my son Aryan?
GERALT: I had no choice. He knew what can happen once swords are drawn and begin to swing. He chose death over shame.
LOUISA: Stubborn like his father and grandfather before him. Honor above all. How did he die? Did he suffer?
GERALT: No, I doubt he felt the final blow, didn't even see it coming.
LOUISA: There's that, I suppose.
GERALT: M'lady, I killed many during the assault, not just your son. War demands sacrifices - you might remember that the next time you're about to start one.
SHILARD: Have some compassion, Master Geralt. The baroness requires support, she is distraught as it is...
LOUISA: Unnecessary toil, Excellency, for witchers have no feelings. And the truth, especially when painful, can wake us from the slumber of self-deception. I deserved as much.
[Continues the same as "Your son despised Nilfgaard."]
GERALT: M'Lady, I wouldn't trust the ambassador if I were you.
SHILARD: Master Geralt, let us be serious, please...
LOUISA: Let him speak. I wish to hear this.
GERALT: I didn't know your son, but I know he saw the Empire as a foe. As did King Foltest.
LOUISA: You've no notion of the events transpiring in the kingdom, of what Kimbolt, Maravel and their ilk are capable. My duty is to Foltest's children, their safety. And though I, too, see a pact with Nilfgaard as a pact with the devil, I feel I have no choice. Besides, can you say that you really knew the King?
GERALT: Well enough to be confident of my words.
LOUISA: Truly? In that case, what kind of a man was he? I wish to know your view.
GERALT: He was ruthless, hard and effective. A good king.
LOUISA: Effectiveness is the mark of a good witcher. We've learned to expect other things from monarchs - say, justice and wisdom...
GERALT: Few are born wise, m'Lady. He did all he could to preserve and safeguard the realm.
GERALT: He laughed at pleasantries, envied those better than him, feared those stronger, despised the weaker, and killed those he hated... Those he loved, he presented with ballistae... He was a man like any other, except he was born to be king.
LOUISA: True, he was a boor in a crown...
SHILARD: M'Lady!
LOUISA: And that was the first and last honest epitaph he'll get. Once the poets start in, nothing will remain of the real Foltest.
SHILARD: M'Lady, you will set down your memoirs - I shall make that my mission... Once we bring in the appropriate artist...
LOUISA: Later, Excellency. All in due time.
GERALT: M'Lady, those of my profession generally live longer by not judging the nobly born. Especially crowned heads they're accused of murdering...
LOUISA: If there's any truth to the accusation, you stand to lose nothing by speaking.
GERALT: I didn't kill Foltest. What's more, I intend to find the man who did.
GERALT: Conceit, greed, lechery, anger... All the human demons gorged themselves on Foltest. Though those traits might've issued more from the office than the man. Who knows...
SHILARD: Master Geralt, I've hitherto disregarded the rumors of you being a monster slayer and philosopher in equal measures... Yet a philosopher you are, and a subversive one at that...
LOUISA: The ambassador questioned your guilt... It seems now that I, too, believe you did not slay the King.
LOUISA: Your Excellency, you will aid the witcher to escape the castle. That is my wish.
SHILARD: But M'Lady, this would represent an immeasurable risk in my estimation. And there is the matter of your son...
LOUISA: He chose his fate and departed in a manner worthy of the La Valettes. How am I to believe you'll protect me from reptiles like Kimbolt and Maravel when you balk at the notion of deceiving a few prison guards?
SHILARD: M'Lady, I shall do what is in my power. Give me a moment, witcher, then proceed to the main gate.
[Geralt leaves. As Geralt makes his way out of the castle, Shilard distracts the guards.]
[Geralt exits the castle. If Newboy wore the amulet into battle and was killed, Geralt finds his corpse outside.]
GERALT: The young Reaver of Crinfrid... a lot of good that amulet did him.
[If Newboy wore armor into battle and survived, Geralt meets him when he exits the castle.]
NEWBOY: Halt! Blimey, is that you, witcher? They say you killed the King.
GERALT: Well, I didn't. And I'm going to prove it.
NEWBOY: I'm inclined to believe you.
GERALT: Glad to hear that. It'd be pretty stupid if I had to kill you now. Did all the Reavers survive the assault?
NEWBOY: Aye, they've been drinkin' themselves silly for two days now. I believe I owe you something.
GERALT: You don't owe me a thing.
NEWBOY: We wound up in a boiling cauldron during the assault... You know how it is when knights get caught in a tight passage. Nowhere to go - those in the back push forward, those in the front are stuck, and halberd blows raining down from above... I'd've been crushed if not for my armor.
NEWBOY: And about ten blows landed on my helmet. My ears still ring and I puke time and again, but I live and breathe.
GERALT: Concussion. It'll pass.
GERALT: Were you on patrol with the Reavers when they ran into those Scoia'tael?
NEWBOY: Aye.
GERALT: Kennet mentioned the unit was especially vicious. Notice anything out of the ordinary? A unit emblem or something?
NEWBOY: Right you are. They had masks made of the cloth of Special Forces uniforms... And they hollered a lot - 'Iorveth' or some such.
GERALT: Mhm. Where did the dragon come from?
NEWBOY: I've no idea, but it saved our arses. The elves ceased shooting at the sight of it... Can't tell you anymore, as we fled right then as if the devil himself was on our tail.
NEWBOY: Take this. Kennet told me to study up, but I've not the mind for it. Just not cut out to be a dragon hunter, I guess. It could be useful to you, though.
[Newboy gives Geralt the book "About Dragons".]
GERALT: I need to go.
NEWBOY: There are sentries on the dike - no way you'll slip through.
GERALT: Can you distract them?
NEWBOY: Um, I'll try. But remember: count me out if there's a fight... In fact, we could end up foes.
GERALT: I hope not. Go.
NEWBOY: Just give me a minute.
[Geralt makes his way down to the river boat where Roche and Triss await.]
ROCHE: Bloody hell, you didn't have to torch the castle...
ROCHE: You were to sneak out, avoid anything resembling a blood bath.
GERALT: You left me the key to my manacles, not an invisibility cloak.
ROCHE: Peace and quiet - I'm impressed. The boys were betting you'd turn the dungeon into another Blaviken.
GERALT: Can we sail? That peace and quiet might disappear irretrievably at any moment.
GERALT: Triss, is everything all right?
TRISS: Not exactly. I'm no longer the royal adviser... I've lost my post, my home in Vizima... Witcher's mistress, they call me... Kingslayer's whore...
GERALT: Triss, you put yourself out there...
GERALT: I ran into a hangman torturing Aryan La Valette, trying to force him to confess to incestuous relations with his mother. Foltest's children were to be Aryan's.
TRISS: Sons of bitches.
GERALT: The hangman has hanged his last.
GERALT: I ran into a hangman torturing Louisa La Valette, trying to force her to confess to incestuous relations with her son. Foltest's children were to be Aryan's.
TRISS: Sons of bitches.
GERALT: The hangman has hanged his last, but Shilard has the baroness and her children.
GERALT: People say what they think they have to.
TRISS: I know, but...
GERALT: They'll change their minds as soon as we find the kingslayer. Roche'll see to that. Right, spy?
ROCHE: I'm no spy, but you're mostly correct.
ROCHE: An interregnum is chaos by definition. Rats like Baron Kimbolt and Count Maravel rule Temeria now, or strive to. But no one save old Natalis can restore true order...
TRISS: Natalis is far away and of low birth. The crown's simply out of his reach. Baron Kimbolt on the other hand....
GERALT: Politics is secondary right now... Vernon, learn anything new about the kingslayer?
ROCHE: A week ago, I got a message from an informer in Flotsam. He saw Iorveth in the company of a large, bald man, not unlike the one you described.
GERALT: A week ago? Sounds like a cold trail to me.
ROCHE: We need to start somewhere. The trading post is a few days up river, in the forests that lie on the Aedirnian border. Iorveth's territory.
GERALT: Flotsam it is, then.
GERALT: Triss.
TRISS: Yes?
GERALT: I'm a bit beat up. Will you look at my wounds?
TRISS: Mhm...
GERALT: Let's go below deck. And I need you to tell me about Yennefer, in detail. I want to hear it all, even the things you don't want to tell me, even the things that might hurt.
ROCHE: Prepare to cast off! Clear the lines and all aboard!
VES: Lines clear, captain!