CHAPTER I
CONTENTS
- TUTORIAL
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER I
- A Rough Landing
- By the Gods - Stringing Up Sods
- Kayran - A Matter of Price
- Kayran - Cedric and the Shipwreck
- An Indecent Proposal
- Killing the Kayran
- Visiting Ciaran
- The Rose of Remembrance
- Zoltan the Squirrel
- Confronting Letho
- Where is Triss Merigold? (Helped Iorveth)
- Where is Triss Merigold? (Helped Roche)
- Cedric's Death
- At a Crossroads
- The Floating Prison (Iorveth)
- Death to the Traitor (Roche)
- Character Dialogue
- Overheard Dialogue
- Sidequests
[TITLE TEXT: Four months earlier. The Temerian–Aedirnian frontier.
Iorveth uses a nekker as bait for an arachas. Afterwards he returns to a cave hideout, where he is surprised to find Letho already there.]
LETHO: Sheathe your sword, elf. I’m here to talk.
LETHO: Bow low - you stand before a head crowned... That of Demavend, King of Aedirn, by the grace of the gods, sovereign of the Pontar Valley, and so on...
IORVETH: And you are...?
LETHO: A friend to nonhumans. I have an offer.
IORVETH: Speak. Quickly and to the point. The arachas will soon return and I’d rather know all before then.
LETHO: I can add several more heads to this one. Each crowned.
IORVETH: Go on.
LETHO: Foltest to start with. I barely escaped in Aedirn. I’ll need help - access to your hideouts and maps of your secret trails... And the support of the Scoia'tael... I want no gold and have no interest in a killer’s fame.
IORVETH: Then why do you wish them dead?
LETHO: It’s a long story... Your beast nabbed his nekker. Time to go. Do we have a deal, elf?
[Geralt and company's boat docks at the edge of a forest.
TITLE TEXT: Present-day. The Temerian-Aedirnian frontier.]
ROCHE: Flotsam should be just beyond the point. We'll take the beach.
GERALT: Who's "we"?
ROCHE: You and me. Reconnaissance...
TRISS: I'm coming, too.
ROCHE: You should stay behind. We can't be sure of the reception we'll get.
TRISS: Precisely why I won't let you go alone. Someone's gotta look after you.
ROCHE: That time of the month?
ROCHE: Water's cold as hell. Come on, witcher!
ROCHE: Your witcher's arse is going to have to get wet. Jump.
TRISS: Come on already!
[Geralt, Triss, and Roche begin following the riverbank to Flotsam.]
TRISS: Any news from your secret informer?
ROCHE: The port's blocked. Some merchants have been held up for months.
TRISS: What about roads through the forest...?
ROCHE: Iorveth rules the forest.
ROCHE: Where are we?
TRISS: In a forest?
ROCHE: Very funny. But who does it belong to?
TRISS: Iorveth, maybe? I know more about the Pontar Valley than you think. For instance, I know that Foltest stole this land from Demavend a few years back. I believe you had a hand in that?
GERALT: Hear that?
ROCHE: I smell an elf.
ROCHE: Foltest had just as much right to this land as Demavend.
TRISS: Right? Or do you mean might?
ROCHE: True, there were some skirmishes. Altogether a pleasant foray - experienced fighters only. No peasant footmen or frivolous lords. None of that circus... Ah, you wouldn't understand...
[The sound of flute music begins. A short distance down the bank, they find an elf on a fallen log playing the flute.]
ROCHE: That's...
IORVETH: Vernon Roche! Special Forces Commander for the last four years. Servant of the Temerian king. Responsible for the pacification of the Mahakaman foothills. Hunter of elves, murderer of women and children. Twice decorated for valor on the field of battle...
ROCHE: Iorveth - a regular son of a whore.
IORVETH: I've long awaited our meeting. Laid plans, set traps... And now you appear in my forest of your own volition.
ROCHE: You aided the man who slew my king...
IORVETH: King or beggar - what's the difference? One dh'oine less.
GERALT: Since when do the Scoia'tael hire professional killers to do their dirty work? A dh'oine, even. You've fallen low...
IORVETH: A hired killer, true. But in all certainty, he is no dh'oine.
GERALT: Don't make a big deal of the race thing...
IORVETH: Yet race is the very reason we fight! We have pointed ears, yours are rounded. We are few, yet long-lived, your kind multiplies like vermin, though thankfully expires quickly... Humans and elves alike, trying to prove one shape is better than the other. Four hundred years of killing over the mold of the auricle.
GERALT: You're just another old elf in a young elf's skin, using clever words to mask an obvious truth.
IORVETH: Obvious you say?
GERALT: This is not about race or freedom. Or even vengeance. You're here because someone powerful told you to be. Someone who's using you. They may wear a crown, carry a magic wand, or even lead a guild... But be sure of this: it's not about your freedom, your rights, or your ears. Nilfgaard ploughed you once, now someone new does. Am I wrong?
IORVETH: Those times are gone... No one will ever use the Scoia'tael again.
GERALT: Who are you addressing? Me, yourself... or the archers in those shrubs?
GERALT: The kingslayer's among you. We've come for him.
IORVETH: Then our interests collide... The kingslayer is under my protection and I'll not hand over a guest.
GERALT: We need him alive. Know any useful spells?
TRISS: Get his attention, I need to focus.
GERALT: I'll try.
ROCHE: Climb down and we'll finish this. I await.
IORVETH: Hah! You're a man without honor, Vernon Roche. An insect I'll not duel, but one that I will crush.
GERALT: Seems like you spout the same old elven drivel.
IORVETH: What do you mean, witcher?
GERALT: I've seen your kind before. Proud Aen Seidhe sneaking around forests. Helpless, yet masking that with acts of increasing cruelty.
IORVETH: I helped kill Roche's king. You call that helpless? Or would you call me a terrorist? No one will grant us our freedom, witcher. We must win it for ourselves.
[Continues the same as "I've heard enough of your philosophy."]
GERALT: Where's your unit? Dispersed by a raiding party?
IORVETH: They're exactly where they should be. I assure you, no humans can surprise the Scoia'tael.
[Continues the same as "Since when do the Scoia'tael hire human assassins?"]
ROCHE: Enough of this piss! Die!
IORVETH: Spar'le!
[Arrows rain down on the trio.]
TRISS: Addan quen spars-paerpe'tlon Vort!
[A golden shield surrounds the three of them.]
GERALT: That oughta discourage them.
GERALT: Triss, are you all right?
TRISS: Lovely... [collapses]
ROCHE: You should've charmed the archers... They're coming.
ROCHE: Geralt! The spell's still working! Stay close!
TRISS: What's... what's happening?
ROCHE: Triss is spent, so no more butterflies. Let's get the fuck out of here.
GERALT: Back to the boat?
ROCHE: There's even more of them that way. We must fight our way toward Flotsam.
TRISS: Is that you, Roche?! Get your hands off my ass!
ROCHE: Who did you think it was?
TRISS: I'm not a sack of flour or one of your commandos. I'm a woman!
ROCHE: I noticed.
TRISS: Ugh. I'm going to be sick...
[Roche carries Triss as Geralt fights the oncoming Scoia'tael.]
ROCHE: At least I'll die holding a lovely arse!
TRISS: Not mine! I'll hold the spell...
ROCHE: Come on! Let's go!
TRISS: Stop shaking! I need to focus!
ROCHE: Are you all right?
TRISS: Yes, fine.
ROCHE: Grrrrrr... Sons of bitches...
TRISS: What's happening? All I see are your boots.
ROCHE: Where the hell is that trading post?
ROCHE: I'm starting to think we'll make it. Wait, the barrier's waning... Triss?!
TRISS: Be quick.
ROCHE: Give me a bit more magic, just a little!
ROCHE: Geralt, kill them now!
[The town of Flotsam becomes visible in the distance.]
FLOTSAM GUARD 1: Scoia'tael attacking!
FLOTSAM GUARD 2: Alarm! Squirrels!
FLOTSAM GUARD 3: There's a mage among them! Ready yourselves!
[The trio make it to Flotsam. Geralt turns back to see Iorveth and his commandos in the distance. Letho comes up next to Iorveth.]
IORVETH: You know each other?
LETHO: Rather well, but he has amnesia. I actually took the witcher by surprise when I killed Foltest. Fear not, elf. I know Geralt, I know his weakness.
[At the edge of Flotsam, Geralt and company regroup.]
TRISS: Too many spells at once. You can die from that...
ROCHE: See that?
GERALT: Yeah, the kingslayer and Iorveth.
FLOTSAM GUARD: You all in one piece? Who are you?
GERALT: I'm a witcher.
ROCHE: Emhyr var Emreis, spice merchant.
FLOTSAM GUARD: A trader?
ROCHE: In spices.
FLOTSAM GUARD: Uh-huh... And the woman?
TRISS: My good man, we barely escaped death... Be so kind as to tell us where we might get some rest. We'll explain everything later.
FLOTSAM GUARD: Very well. Head for the market square. You might be in time for the execution... Some ne'er-do-wells are going to hang - a dwarf and some bard. There's also an inn and a brothel...
TRISS: Oh yeah, the brothel sounds especially interesting. Take care, now.
[By the gates of the square, citizens can be overheard trying to convince the guards to let them leave town.]
GUARD 1: Gates are closed until further notice.
CITIZEN: I do believe you know not whom you address, soldier.
GUARD 2: Commandant's orders. We're not to let anyone out, and we won't.
GUARD 1: Besides, Cedric claims the forest's dangerous, monsters in the area...
CITIZEN: Ah, plough what that drunken elf claims!
GUARD 1: And I say plough your whim to take a stroll, you rich minge. Piss off 'fore I slap you across the head with me halberd!
GUARD 1: Are you deaf? Gates closed until further notice!
CITIZEN: I've had enough! The Commandant'll hear of this!
GUARD 2: Ah, go to hell!
GERALT: When will you open the gates, soldier?
GUARD 1: After the execution. Cedric'll peer out, confirm that it's calm, then we'll open them. Don't ask me how he knows, but he's yet to be wrong, that elf of ours...
GERALT: What's this execution about?
GUARD 1: Go to the square, see for yourself.
[Geralt, Roche, and Triss go to the town square to watch the execution. They realize that two of the people in nooses are Zoltan and Dandelion.]
GERALT: Zoltan... Dandelion...
ROCHE: My informer.
TRISS: Just great.
ROCHE: What's the plan?
GERALT: We improvise.
ROCHE: No killing.
GERALT: We'll take care of this, Triss.
DANDELION: Geralt! Geralt! Over here! Help!
[Geralt can either take the direct approach or sneak around behind the scaffold.]
[Geralt approaches the scaffold directly.]
GUARD: Step back, white one.
GERALT: What are they going to hang for? They don't look dangerous.
GUARD: The charge is: Collusion with the Scoia'tael.
GERALT: Dandelion - an elven spy?
GUARD: The bard's hanging for debauchery.
GERALT: What?!
GUARD: The sentence was, he's to hang for debauchery.
BYSTANDER: And a sentence is nothing to scoff at!
GERALT: Are you serious? Listen here, people. Is profligacy now a punishable offence in the free Kingdom of Temeria? Or are we in Nilfgaard?
GUARD: Ah piss off, freak, or you'll have me to deal with. Think of the common folk - you're spoiling their fun.
BYSTANDER: A freak he may be, but he speaks true. Debauchery's one of my favorite pastimes, but I don't want a noose placed 'round my neck for pursuin' it!
MARGOT: The soldier boy has paid us a visit or two, though he didn't have much fun.
GUARD: Away with you, Margot. Go back to your brothel.
MARGOT: I'm to go? Fine. But hear this, people - he sure liked to parade about, but his willie wouldn't come to attention! Hah!
GERALT: Stop the execution.
GUARD: Shut your trap! The singer's to hang and he will hang - this is a decent town... Whores and witchers notwithstanding!
BYSTANDER: Watch your words, guardsman. I don't know witchers, but Margot's a decent woman!
GUARD: Shut it! All of you! Or I'll not vouch for what I'll do!
MARGOT: Thinks he's tough, showing off his balls, but don't fret, people, I've seen the rot on them! *Cackles*
GUARD: I'm warnin' you for the last time, Margot!
GERALT: You wouldn't hit a lady...
GUARD: You're no lady...
GERALT: I don't give a shit. Stop the execution!
GUARD: Careful, wanderer. You could lose your tongue for that. I've heard of you and know you can fight, but you'll not take on the whole garrison.
BYSTANDER: Oy! Tin man! That's pure rubbish! You're talkin' to the famed Geralt of Rivia, you are!
GUARD: Commandant Loredo rules this town, and it's his orders I follow. Piss off, jesters, before I have you beaten good.
ROCHE: You're a disgrace to your uniform, you shitty little idiot.
GUARD: What?! Hey boys, lend me a hand here. Got an uppity little one that needs a thrashing!
ROCHE: Take a swing, runt, I dare you...
GUARD: Can't turn that down! Get 'em!
GERALT: Stand aside. I know those two and I won't let them hang.
GUARD: Piss on who you know. The law says they're to hang. Carry on and you'll join them.
[Geralt gets into a fistfight with two of the guards. (If Geralt loses against the guards, the executioner hangs him.)]
[Geralt goes around the side of the inn and through the gates to the docks]
GUARD 1: Who's up there, anyway?
GUARD 2: The one in the cap's an arsonist and a lecher - his friend colluded with the Squirrels.
GUARD 1: And the two elves?
GUARD 2: Came from a roundup. I mean, what's a hanging without an elf? Heh.
[Geralt uses Aard to destroy a set of barrels as a distraction.]
GUARD 1: See that? What the devil...?
GUARD 2: Should we check?
GUARD 1: No chance. I'm manning me post.
GUARD 2: Bollocks... Think it was the Old Man?
GUARD: You, there! What the hell was that?
[Geralt ducks past the guards and through the other gate to arrive behind the scaffold.]
[The executioner hangs one of the elves; Geralt climbs up onto the scaffold to the executioner and fistfights him to unconsciousness. (If Geralt loses against the executioner, the executioner hangs him.) Commandant Loredo approaches the scaffold.]
LOREDO: What the hell is going on here?!
LOREDO: I said, what the arse fuck is going on?
GUARD: I- I- I'd like to re-re-report...
LOREDO: Ou-ou-ou-ou-out of my sight, Clover!
LOREDO: A few ploughing bandits and you can't even hang them! And you! Stay calm - hands off your sword. Our scaffold embraces speeches and hangings. Which will it be?
GERALT: You have no right to hang them.
LOREDO: Interesting... because I'm the law in Flotsam.
ROCHE: I take issue with that. Vernon Roche, officer of the King.
LOREDO: Well, well... Blue Stripes, the nonhuman hunters.
ROCHE: Precisely. Anyone suspected of collaborating with the Scoia'tael falls under my jurisdiction.
GERALT: And Dandelion? What's he accused of?
LOREDO: He burned down a watchtower. What's your jurisdiction say to that? I thought so.
GERALT: Is that true?
DANDELION: It might've looked that way... But I swear it wasn't my fault!
GERALT: Your people started it. Short fuses, some of them.
LOREDO: What do I care? They started, but you finished.
GERALT: I had to defend my friends. Will you release them?
LOREDO: Terrible choice of friends, witcher.
GERALT: Are you in command here?
LOREDO: Forgive me! Bernard Loredo, Commander of Port Flotsam. Yes, I rule this brothel...
LOREDO: I'd rather give you a thief. Relax, I'm joking... I hate thieves. We can put on another show - bloody and serious this time, mind you - or we can come to an understanding.
GERALT: Meaning?
LOREDO: Give me a minute, witcher.
LOREDO: Listen here. You may have heard rumors of the tragic events that transpired during the siege of La Valette Castle. Sadly, they are true. King Foltest is dead. It's likely that Scoia'tael had a hand in this heinous murder. So, you see, none of you can feel safe. That is why today, wagons with armaments will roll out into Flotsam's streets. I hereby declare a state of emergency. Await orders, prepare to fight, and ready yourselves to avenge your fallen king. Now disperse, go to your homes.
GERALT: What about them?
LOREDO: They'll not hang for now. Let's say I'm reconsidering their cases... The scaffold's no place for civil conversation. We'll talk at my home. Your friends are free for the time being, but they're not to leave town.
LOREDO: Come after dusk. Hm, I'll be busy until then. There's one more thing...
LOREDO: Welcome to Flotsam, witcher.
GERALT: Nice speech. You might as well have said outright that nonhumans slew Foltest...
LOREDO: My subjects know exactly who their enemy is. Out in that forest, grow careless for a moment and you're a dead man.
GERALT: Whereas the nonhumans here in town are all friendly.
LOREDO: Friendlier than the merciless bastards out there. We let the Scoia'tael inside and they'll skin us alive, just before they slit our throats. Here, even the slightest sense of safety is an illusion. We'll not succumb to it for a moment.
[Continues the same as "Dandelion and Zoltan are free?"]
[Dandelion and Zoltan are freed from the nooses.]
DANDELION: Ah. They were really going to hang us. I... I... I don't know... I didn't mean to torch that watchtower.
GERALT: Everything's all right, Dandelion. Let's get out of here.
ZOLTAN: Oh we owe, we owe you, Geralt. Thank you.
ZOLTAN: Time to hit the tavern. Come on, Dandelion, you need a stiff drink. And while we're at it, I'll tell you an edifying tale of local hypocrisy that conceals lechery 'neath a veneer of courtesy. Except nothing can hide the stench.
[Geralt joins his friends in the tavern.]
DANDELION: Ha-hah! Damn, that was close... Innkeep! Vodka!
ZOLTAN: Triss Merigold! Lice eat me, but you are a treat to behold! Ah, just a little pale...
TRISS: Magic takes its toll, but I'll be all right. Good to see you and your beard again.
GERALT: Can somebody tell me what happened? You set off a month ago for Zoltan's wedding...
ZOLTAN: That got fucked. There will be no wedding.
GERALT: Did you hear about Foltest?
DANDELION: Rumors travel faster than the wind.
ZOLTAN: Winds and rumors! I want to know the truth.
DANDELION: I want to know how Foltest died. And the dragon - was there really one there? And who rules Temeria now?
GERALT: Dandelion, calm down - you'll choke on your liquor.
GERALT: The dragon... Well, the dragon appeared, and that's all I know.
DANDELION: But where did the La Valettes get a dragon?! We heard it fought on their side! Huge as a barn, they say.
GERALT: Dragons don't usually take sides. Maybe its lair was nearby and it just felt threatened.
TRISS: If you hadn't driven it off, Foltest might not have taken the castle.
GERALT: Maybe. We'll never know for sure.
GERALT: No wedding, Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: Hah! The Breckenriggs broke off the engagement because some limp prick put it about that I joined the uprising in Vizima. My would-be pop-in-law refused to let a rebel firebrand join the family... Innkeep! Where's our drink?!
DANDELION: It was like this... We got to Mahakam a week after the Grand Master died. Bought Zoltan an absolutely grand doublet, a pair of Geribuldi crackowes and, as a gift for Eudora, a jadestone as big as my fist.
ZOLTAN: We were broke as a joke by the time Dandelion threw me a bachelor party at an establishment called 'The Tight Lane.'
DANDELION: Next day we went over to the Breckenriggs'. They welcomed us in, sat us down, and proceeded to discuss the superiority of Mahakaman mining know-how over any other. And that went on until dinner. Just when I thought I'd learned more than I ever wanted to know about mining, they served the soup...
ZOLTAN: You could've heard a pin drop. Old Breckenrigg rose and he says, 'A real dwarf works a mine, not chases fame on the battlefield.'
DANDELION: You'll never believe this, Geralt, but they served duck blood soup! It was as black as tar. They must've dropped lumps of coal into the pot.
ZOLTAN: Eat,' Breckenrigg says, then proceeded to slurp two full bowls of the shite. Old goat. Hope his mine caves in on his head.
GERALT: Since when have you worked for Roche?
DANDELION: Hey, nobody said a word when you went out to save Temeria from the Grand Master and his mutants.
GERALT: Relax, Dandelion. I was just asking. Do what you want. You're an adult... kind of.
ZOLTAN: Bua-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa-ha!
TRISS: That wasn't very supportive.
DANDELION: Laugh away... At least I decided to do something constructive.
GERALT: You used to spy for Redania, now you're spying for Temeria. Some might call you a traitor.
DANDELION: Ever tried to live off of poetry alone? The truth is, I'm a citizen of the world. As long as I don't serve Emperor Emhyr, I'm not doing any harm.
ZOLTAN: Leave him be, Geralt. He'll play the spy a bit, get bored, and drop it. You know how he is.
GERALT: Loredo said you're working with the Scoia'tael, Zoltan.
ZOLTAN: I have done many things in my life, Geralt, but I've never stooped to banditry.
GERALT: The Scoia'tael don't consider themselves bandits.
ZOLTAN: But I am no Scoia'tael.
GERALT: Triss, you're the expert on Temeria... tell us who's in charge now.
TRISS: It's chaotic and getting worse. The old families are fighting for supremacy, no holds barred.
DANDELION: Baron Kimbolt and Count Maravel, I bet...
TRISS: Among others. After the assassination, while Geralt was in the dungeon, the lords convened in a field near La Valette Castle to choose a new ruler. Three days they debated and it looked more like a bazaar than a meeting of nobles. Except the trade was in court and ministry positions, spheres of influence, royal privileges...
ZOLTAN: Thah! Humans!
TRISS: In spite of several duels and two poisonings, no king was chosen. Civil war was in the air.
GERALT: Where were the mages?
ZOLTAN: Aye! Where were the gray eminences of this world when they were truly needed?
TRISS: They weren't invited. Neither was I. But if not for their intervention, or rather that of a few influential sorceresses, Baron Kimbolt would've taken the throne...
DANDELION: I was invited to sing at his court once. Afterwards, he refused to pay me, and the food was awful. No way I'll stay in Temeria if he's crowned.
GERALT: Did they ultimately resolve anything?
TRISS: No. It ended as usual...Sadly, John Natalis remains our only hope.
DANDELION: Ah, the victor at Brenna and Foltest's most tried and true field commander.
TRISS: Hmm. During the deliberations, he was several days' march from La Valette lands - with an additional two thousand armed men in tow. He's to keep the peace until a rightful monarch is chosen.
DANDELION: He could find that ruling is to his liking.
TRISS: Natalis is a soldier at heart. He's not suited to rule and I don't believe he even wants to.
ZOLTAN: He's got the army behind him...
TRISS: Which is why he can guarantee peace. A tenuous one, sure, but that's always better than civil war. Besides which, he's deeply in debt to a dwarven bank in which Philippa Eilhart, a sorceress, holds a significant stake.
GERALT: Foltest's killer lay in wait in the tower where the La Valettes had hidden the royal bastards. He was well-informed.
DANDELION: Wait a minute. What were you doing there?
GERALT: I was protecting the King. After the first attempt, Foltest began treating me as his lucky charm. He ordered me to be at his side during the battle. The dragon separated us from the rest of the army. The killer disguised himself as a monk, a blind one at that. He let Foltest greet his children, waited until I had walked off, then cut the king's throat from ear to ear.
ZOLTAN: How did he flee?
GERALT: Jumped out a window into the river below. Iorveth's Scoia'tael were waiting in a boat - it was planned.
DANDELION: And you're chasing him because he murdered the King?
GERALT: I was accused of the murder. I need to clear my name. Besides, I looked him in the eye before he escaped... He's a witcher. Then some brave Temerian soldiers showed up, piled on me, and knocked me out...
[A man bursts into the tavern.]
MAN: Save yourselves, good folk! The beast attacks!
TRISS: We better get out there... Someone's casting spells.
[A tentacle writhes around the docks, striking bystanders. A mage casts a lightning spell at it, and it retreats.]
DOCK WORKER: What sort of sorceress are you?! A lot of good you did. Can't you hear me?! Why didn't you help him?
SÍLE: He's alive, isn't he?
DOCK WORKER: The beast nearly pulled him in the water, while you stood staring like a calf at a shit-covered clover!
SÍLE: Watch your words.
[Geralt and Triss approach.]
GERALT: Where's this beast?
DOCK WORKER: Ask her!
SÍLE: Geralt?
GERALT: Ah, I guess we knew each other.
DOCK WORKER: Oh, lookey here, birds of a feather...
SÍLE: Let's say... I've heard of you.
DOCK WORKER: Master witcher, this is foolish. The beast near pulled Sosek into the depths, and you're simply chatting with this damsel!
GERALT: Sosek's alive and nowhere near the depths. The monster's vanished without a trace.
DOCK WORKER: You best take us seriously, lest you vanish without a trace.
GERALT: All right. What happened?
SÍLE: I came to Flotsam to kill the kayran.
DOCK WORKER 2: Kayran?
SÍLE: The monster that has effectively blocked the port. A moment ago, I had the good fortune to see it in all its splendor, but the local folk scared it away.
DOCK WORKER 3: Good fortune? You hear that, Sosek? That was some good fortune for you!
DOCK WORKER 2: Why's the beast in the port all of a sudden, eh? Summoned by the witch, perchance?
DOCK WORKER 1: To see it in all its splendor!
GERALT: And which of you is ready to help the sorceress fight the beast?
DOCK WORKER 2: Why us? Huge it is! Big as a mountain!
GERALT: Then why get angry at someone who's willing?
DOCK WORKER 2: Well, 'cause...
GERALT: We'll tend to the kayran, the sorceress or I. Maybe we'll do it together. We'll draw it away from the port beforehand, so as not to endanger the likes of you.
DOCK WORKER 1: Well, I hope you succeed. I've no preference for who does it - witch or witcher... just kill the whoreson and the whole town will be grateful.
GERALT: I'm tired of your whining. Get out of here.
DOCK WORKER 2: *Ptooey!*
GERALT: Sosek doesn't look too good. Lay him inside somewhere.
[Geralt has to fistfight the dock workers to get them to leave.]
DOCK WORKER 3: What's this? I was ready for a rumble, there.
DOCK WORKER 1: Shut it, and come on.
[A man in fine clothing approaches.]
MERSE: I apologize for interrupting, but I am Louis Merse, and I am chief person in charge of all matters related to monster-hunting in Flotsam. It is in this capacity that I must inquire if you're willing to attempt to resolve the problem of our so-called kayran - the beast that now blocks all trade traffic on the river.
SÍLE: So, witcher? Are we willing?
GERALT: I usually work alone...
SÍLE: I was here first, and I'll not relinquish this contract. My way or the highway, as the locals put it...
GERALT: Fine, your way it is.
MERSE: You must contact the merchants on the waterfront as regards any rewards. Madame De Tansarville has, I believe, already conducted some preliminary negotiations...
SÍLE: That, I have.
MERSE: In that case, don't let me keep you.
[Merse leaves.]
SÍLE: Triss, how long must I wait for you to introduce us?
TRISS: Síle de Tansarville, advisor to Queen Zulika of Kovir.
GERALT: Kovir's a long way north.
SÍLE: True. I had my doubts if the kayran was worth the journey, but those were dispelled with what it showed today.
TRISS: Here to hunt down some ingredients?
SÍLE: Triss Merigold - sharp as ever.
GERALT: You're thinking that...?
SÍLE: Troll eyes, ghoul venom, virgins' blood... All those disgusting marvels we take from dying species... To throw into the cauldron at sabbaths. Right, Triss?
TRISS: Absolutely - virgins are a dying breed.
SÍLE: Oh my! Your sense of humor seems to be intact, too. But enough of these pleasantries. Tell me,
GERALT: you saw the tentacle - what do you make of it all?
GERALT: The beast must be huge. Maybe inhabited one of the Pontar's tributaries before, hunting animals... Then it grew for some reason and hunger drove it to seek fresh pastures.
SÍLE: And on the Pontar it found trade barges burgeoning with obese, slow-moving merchants. You're partly correct. Cedric claims the kayran emerged from the northern swamps approximately one month past.
GERALT: Cedric?
SÍLE: An elf... Formerly a Scoia'tael. Strange bird, but he knows quite a bit about the area and its living wonders.
GERALT: I need to look around, find out a few things...
SÍLE: Hm, an investigation, witchers' rituals, extracting secrets and such...
GERALT: More or less. I'll talk to the merchants about the reward, pay Cedric a visit and get back to you...
SÍLE: You'll find me at the inn. I've rented lodgings there - on the upper floor.
TRISS: You know the inn's also a whorehouse.
SÍLE: Thanks for the warning.
[Geralt heads to the waterfront to talk to the merchants.]
MERCHANT: What do you want?
GERALT: Heard you have a problem.
MERCHANT: Ah, if only we had just one. Highway's washed out, forest's full of bandits, a river beast blocks the port and tolls are to rise!
GERALT: Can't help with the tolls, but the monster's a possibility.
MERCHANT: A sorceress said the same, but we've yet to see any results.
GERALT: She's asked me to work with her.
MERCHANT: And who's to pay your wage?
GERALT: That's what I'm here to discuss.
MERCHANT: The sorceress was to manage alone. You can split that reward if you wish.
GERALT: A contract like that requires preparations. Costly preparations.
MERCHANT: You want an advance? I've but a handful of orens now, though it should buy you plenty of drink and a few hours of ploughing.
GERALT: I was thinking of the potions we'll need...
GERALT: Well, we're managing it together now, so as I see it, you should double the reward...
MERCHANT: Pghooh! You jest.
GERALT: The sorceress might not know the going rates, but I'm a witcher. If she finds out you tried to cheat her, you'll have more than the kayran to fear.
MERCHANT: Enough. Your meaning's clear. I shall add some gold, but the reward will not double under any circumstances.
GERALT: You'll double what you offered Lady de Tansarville, because that's what the contract's worth.
[Continues same as "Where's our advance?"]
GERALT: It's a deal.
GERALT: I never jest.
[Continues same as "Where's our advance?"]
GERALT: It's a deal.
GERALT: Have it your way. But if the sorceress fails, you'll be stuck here with your goods till winter. Your losses would be far higher than the cost of hiring me. See you.
MERCHANT: Uh, wait minute, there. No need to get cross. Time is coin - I understand that very well. If your participation will expedite the matter, so be it. We'll add two fistfuls of orens, though our pouches will be empty.
GERALT: It's a deal.
GERALT: Now, tell me what you know about the beast.
MERCHANT: You're the witcher, dammit. I've no knowledge of these things.
GERALT: Who could tell me more?
MERCHANT: That ploughing elf, Cedric, most probably. He's supposed to know all about monsters.
GERALT: Where can I find him?
MERCHANT: In the village outside the walls.
MERCHANT: Now leave me be.
[Geralt exits the town and runs into Triss.]
TRISS: Where might you be going?
GERALT: Uh, what kind of a question is that? Anyway, know where I can find an elf named Cedric?
TRISS: Don't get involved in this.
GERALT: The merchants are paying good money for killing the beast.
TRISS: Coin is never the most important thing.
GERALT: Maybe. But it's still pretty useful.
TRISS: I don't trust her.
GERALT: Síle? Why not?
TRISS: She's a powerful sorceress - dangerous to her foes. Even more dangerous to her friends.
GERALT: I know you don't like her. Any specific reason?
TRISS: I'm just trying to warn you.
GERALT: Thanks. I guess I'll have to ask her.
TRISS: How...?
GERALT: We're going hunting together, right after I find Cedric.
GERALT: Hmm... You did turn pale when we met Síle.
TRISS: You must've imagined that.
GERALT: Never mind. I'll find out for myself.
TRISS: How...?
GERALT: We're going hunting together, right after I find Cedric.
GERALT: I know you too well.
TRISS: Síle's one of the most powerful sorceresses.
GERALT: That's no reason to fear her.
TRISS: She can't be trusted - in my experience. I know her to be devious and manipulative.
GERALT: Any proof?
TRISS: She's well aware you lost your memory, yet pretended she didn't know.
GERALT: Why would she do that?
TRISS: I don't know. Her true intentions have always been hard to fathom.
GERALT: I'll see if I can't learn what they are.
TRISS: How?
GERALT: I'll go hunting with her, right after I find Cedric.
TRISS: Well, then let's go see him. He should be at the top of his observation tower.
[Geralt follows Triss and climbs up a series of wooden platforms into a tree where two elves are conversing.]
SEHERIM: Imbaelk. It'll be nearly a year now.
CEDRIC: Moril would delight in a day like this, Seherim. Enjoy the memory of her, don't wallow in the longing.
SEHERIM: I try, I do. But I cannot believe all the bad blood this disappearance has bred.
CEDRIC: Don't let other Seidhe poison your memory of her. Hatred is but an outlet for helplessness.
SEHERIM: Thank you, Cedric. Va fail.
CEDRIC: Va fail.
[Seherim departs, and Geralt greets Cedric.]
GERALT: Are you Cedric?
CEDRIC: Who asks?
GERALT: Geralt of Rivia.
CEDRIC: Ah, the witcher. And...?
TRISS: Triss Merigold.
CEDRIC: Lovely scent, Triss.
GERALT: Cedric, look at me.
CEDRIC: What do you want, Geralt of Rivia?
GERALT: I'm looking to hunt in this area and I could use some advice.
CEDRIC: I'm no witcher. I set traps, snares... try to keep nekkers away from Lobinden. That's all.
GERALT: I'm aiming a little higher than nekkers.
CEDRIC: The Old Man? Meaning the kayran? Finally, Loredo's splurged... Listen, I'm not one to teach your grandmother to suck eggs - you witchers know your work - but if you pay me, I can prepare a useful trap.
GERALT: What kind of trap?
CEDRIC: Puncturing trap, immobilizing trap, even decoys to pull monsters into an ambush. Whatever you like. Since I can easily finish off an ensnared nekker, it should be child's play for you.
GERALT: The elf woman you were talking about - how did she disappear?
CEDRIC: Seherim believes the forest took her.
GERALT: What do you believe?
CEDRIC: Moril simply vanished, almost a year ago now. Some say she was too beautiful and dh'oine must have harmed her.
GERALT: You believe that?
CEDRIC: If I have no evidence before me, I try to trust my feelings. And they tell me the forest did not take her.
GERALT: Why would you keep that from Seherim?
CEDRIC: Because it's meaningless. Perhaps she was murdered, perhaps she departed on her own, never to return. She's gone - and neither I nor Seherim can reverse that.
GERALT: Who exactly are you?
CEDRIC: One who warns humans against the dangers that lurk in the forest.
GERALT: Care to clarify?
CEDRIC: I am old, even for an elf. Yet the forest is older. I've lived in it for years and understand it, though it's nothing I can explain. At times I make mistakes, and people don't come home.
GERALT: So you help humans...
CEDRIC: I just know if it's safe to venture beyond the gates or not.
GERALT: Maybe I'll come back when you're sober.
CEDRIC: You witchers live a long life - you may, indeed, get to see that day.
GERALT: What are the Scoia'tael fighting for?
CEDRIC: Do you ask about the old ones, who hoped to restore our race to its previous glory? Or about the young ones, who fight for survival and out of suicidal revenge?
GERALT: Iorveth's warriors - which mold do they fit?
CEDRIC: They believe they are still independent and that there is but one just way to view their cause. In truth, however, they're but a shadow of the Aen Seidhe's former glory. They cling to delusions to the very moment when a sword or a noose ends their life. Or until they realize the truth themselves. Which is, I believe, the worst.
GERALT: Any idea what Iorveth intends - towards Loredo or the local humans?
CEDRIC: Only he knows that, but I suspect he's at a loss, unsure what to do. He's in the area, mounts the occasional ambush, then lies low for a few days. But he's yet to put together a larger attack.
GERALT: I think he's waiting for the commandant to lower his guard.
CEDRIC: It would appear so, but Iorveth is famous for his viciousness. He's fought regular troops, attacked much larger settlements. Delaying the fight this long is unlike him. Unless there's something I don't know about.
GERALT: I aim to kill the kayran. Heard you might be able to help.
CEDRIC: That depends on the sort of aid you seek.
GERALT: I need information.
CEDRIC: We should have killed it years ago. Now... Now, I don't know... The beast has become too large for the riverbed, and it has strange growths on its tentacles, extremely thick skin... Previously, it inhabited a swamp along one of the Pontar's tributaries. Completely wild terrain, even the Scoia'tael don't venture there. You should go see the wreck of the boat it recently sank. Inspect any traces it's left, see the destruction.
GERALT: Where's this wreck?
CEDRIC: Venture south into the forest, then turn east toward the river. You'll find the ruins of a bridge erected long ago by the Aen Seidhe. The wreck lies at their foot.
GERALT: Thanks, Cedric.
TRISS: You'll find me by the boat wreck.
GERALT: Sheesh, Triss. Sure you're not overusing those teleports?
[Geralt makes his way through the forest after Triss, fighting bandits on the way. He meets her at the top of the hill.]
TRISS: I wonder what's left of that wreck Cedric mentioned.
GERALT: If the kayran attacked the boat, it's not likely to be much. We're looking for traces of the beast, not boats.
[They drop down a series of cliff ledges towards the wreck. Geralt notices footprints.]
GERALT: See those footprints?
TRISS: Yeah. Strange place for an evening walk.
GERALT: Unless you're looking for adventure...
[They are ambushed by drowners by the water's edge.]
TRISS: Drowners?
GERALT: Nice to run into some old friends.
TRISS: Almost brings a tear to your eye...
GERALT: Let's examine the traces of the kayran and get out of here.
[Nearby, Geralt finds a ram's corpse.]
GERALT: A ram stuffed with sulfur and a dead cobbler - straight out of eastern legends. Not good enough for the kayran, though.
[Under the roots of a gigantic tree, they find piles of green mucus.]
TRISS: Wait a minute.
GERALT: What're you going to do?
TRISS: Cast a simple diagnostic spell. It should answer a few questions.
[Triss casts her spell.]
TRISS: This monster's sick, Geralt... It's dying.
GERALT: How much time does it have left?
TRISS: A few years, perhaps a decade and change...
GERALT: Too long. What's wrong with it? Any information could be useful.
TRISS: The diagnostic spell showed that some of the cells in its body have mutated...
GERALT: What makes you think it's dying? I mean, I'm a mutant...
TRISS: The mucus cells I diagnosed are very similar to cancer cells. In some ways, they're more effective than healthy cells, but they're out of control... They converge to create a red tissue - very unpleasant...
GERALT: The poor thing.
TRISS: But you brought up an interesting point. Want to know the core difference between mutants and non-mutants?
GERALT: Another time, maybe.
[Continues the same as "Anything else? Anything more specific?"]
GERALT: Of course I do.
TRISS: The changes made through alchemy and magic in your body would require thousands of years to develop on their own. This development would result from genetic errors that would cause your body to adapt, become a more efficient organism - effectively mutate, but over a very long time. When this development occurs over millennia, across multiple generations, we proudly call it natural selection, evolution. When it occurs quickly, in a single organism or a few representatives of a species, we frown on it as mutation.
GERALT: And here I thought you liked me.
[Continues the same as "Anything else? Anything more specific?"]
GERALT: What else?
TRISS: The kayran's highly venomous.
GERALT: Any ideas for an antidote?
TRISS: Your witcher's metabolism should neutralize small doses of the toxin, but if I were you, I wouldn't rely on my mutations alone. An ostmurk potion should do the trick.
GERALT: I know the herb but haven't the faintest where I might find it around here. I need to think, figure out how I want to fight the kayran. Maybe I won't need the potion.
TRISS: Do what you will, but don't say I didn't warn you. Síle might be eager to get this done, but before you go see her, ask some of the locals about ostmurk. You could try Cedric. Here's the formula for the potion. I need to take care of some things. Manage without me for a while?
GERALT: Mhm.
TRISS: See you.
[Geralt goes to ask Cedric about the herb.]
GERALT: Cedric, I need some ostmurk. It's a rare variety of moss, grows underground.
CEDRIC: I know it. There are some caves to the south, deep in the woods. If ostmurk grows anywhere in the area, it will be there.
[Geralt finds the ostmurk in the back of a cave behind a waterfall. He brews the mongoose potion in preparation for the kayran fight.]
[Attempting to see Loredo in the daytime results in Geralt being turned away.]
GERALT: Loredo wanted to see me.
GUARD: Commandant's busy. Come back after dusk.
[As requested, Geralt goes to Loredo's home after dark.]
GUARD: What?
GERALT: The Commandant wanted to see me.
GUARD: Leave your weapon here.
GERALT: Guard it with care. It's very valuable.
[Before Geralt can go in, Roche walks up.]
ROCHE: Wait, Wolf. I need to talk to the Commandant, too.
GUARD: You going inside or not?
ROCHE: Listen, friend, I'm an officer and you're a runt. And when I say jump, you will not only...
GERALT: Come on, Roche.
[Inside Loredo's compound, soldiers are enjoying themselves around a series of campfires.]
ROCHE: With these cunts, Loredo couldn't protect the port from a drunk lumberjack, let alone Iorveth.
GERALT: He's succeeded so far, Roche.
ROCHE: The port is rotting away and this prick throws fireside feasts...
[A little further in, Roche catches sight of a war machine.]
ROCHE: A ballista. The bastard's got a ballista. You know the power of this weapon?
GERALT: Mhm.
ROCHE: Its arms strengthened with bronze plates and strung with horsehair, it can propel heavy bolts up to a mile away.
GERALT: Yeah, an experienced crew can release two bolts each minute, but it can't hit the same spot twice because it recoils and shifts. I've heard that somewhere before.
ROCHE: Where did you learn about ballistae?
GERALT: I knew someone who knew a bit about them.
ROCHE: Unimportant. We need to damage it if we don't want to be at Loredo's mercy. They're all drunk here now. I'll provoke the guard...
GERALT: Relax, Roche. I don't want to fight this rabble again.
ROCHE: As long as that weapon's operational, no one will sail this section of the Pontar without Loredo's express permission...
GERALT: I'll handle this. Go have a drink.
[Geralt notices that the guard standing by the ballista is alone, and goes to approach one of the sex workers in the compound.]
MARGARITA: What do you need, ugly?
GERALT: Ugly?
MARGARITA: Well, you ain't exactly handsome.
GERALT: But...
MARGARITA: I wouldn't worry. Women prefer ugly men to groomed dandies. And you're ugly something mighty. Care for a romp?
GERALT: Can't just now, but I'll find you later in town. What's your name?
MARGARITA: Margarita.
GERALT: I wanted to surprise my friend... The sad-looking guy by the ballista.
MARGARITA: Some idiot wanted me to read him poems recently... Extravagance, as I see it. I didn't like it.
GERALT: I was thinking of something a little more traditional.
MARGARITA: What would you have me do?
GERALT: Just go with your specialty.
MARGARITA: All right. It'll be my standard rate.
GERALT: Draw him away from the ballista, while you're at it.
MARGARITA: Slap me hard and call me stupid! Tryin' to put one by me? That'll cost you more.
GERALT: How's that?
MARGARITA: Surcharge on special requests. Those are the rules...
GERALT: Lemme think it over.
[Same options to continue as "You choose."]
GERALT: I don't really care. Just get him away from the ballista.
MARGARITA: Oh, now you got me doubting he's your mate at all. But I'll not pry. It'll cost you double.
GERALT: That's steep.
MARGARITA: I may be a simple girl, but I know at least a few men who'd give you trouble if I told them what you've asked of me... Pay me and it’ll stay between us. I mean no point in giving brutes and louts a good reason to perfect their skills, eh?
GERALT: A favor for a favor?
MARGARITA: There is one thing you could do for me.
GERALT: And that is?
MARGARITA: Myron and Alphonse, two of Loredo's thugs. Give them a good thrashing and I'll even blow...
GERALT: I stirred up enough trouble as it is during the execution.
MARGARITA: No need to stir trouble. Just humiliate them someways.
GERALT: Consider it done.
MARGARITA: You've helped me already. Humiliating Myron and Alphonse - that was something. Thank you.
GERALT: The pleasure was all mine.
[After paying or beating the guards]
MARGARITA: All right, I'm off to give the boy some diversion.
[Geralt challenges Myron.]
MYRON: I don't like freaks.
GERALT: And I don't like oafish no-necks.
MYRON: What do you want, mutant?
GERALT: To try my luck, arm wrestling.
MYRON: I'm gonna crush you, mutant.
GERALT: Save the boasting till later. Let's do this.
[FAILURE] MYRON: You're weak! A lame mutant, downright pitiful.
[SUCCESS] MYRON: I hate mutants like you!
GERALT: I know, I know.
[Geralt challenges Alphonse.]
ALPHONSE: What you want, old man?
GERALT: I was looking to test my strength - arm wrestling.
ALPHONSE: What do I stand to gain?
GERALT: Nothing, 'cause I'll thrash you.
ALPHONSE: And if I win?
GERALT: You'll have beat a witcher, so I guess that gets you bragging rights.
ALPHONSE: Are you that Geralt fellow? The Gray Wolf?
GERALT: Mhm.
ALPHONSE: All right. Let's begin.
[Margarita lures the guard away.]
MARGARITA: Care for a little diversion, grave one?
GUARD: I'm on duty...
MARGARITA: Oh, come on. Your comrades are well at it, havin' their fun. Why should you be any worse?
GUARD: You're right. Let's go.
MARGARITA: How was it?
GUARD: With tits like that you could conquer all Temeria, darlin'!
[After the guard is away from the ballista, Geralt takes a piece of the mechanism out and goes to rejoin Roche.]
GERALT: Ballista's decommissioned.
ROCHE: Perfect. Let's go see Loredo.
[Geralt and Roche go up the steps to Loredo's house, but are turned away.]
GUARD: Loredo's busy with that witch, Síle. Come back later.
ROCHE: Geralt, let's wait downstairs in the yard...
ROCHE: Yes?
Got any idea how to get rid of the guard by the ballista?
GERALT: How did you plan to get rid of the guard by the ballista?
ROCHE: I have my ways. But you wanted to do it alone, so go talk to the buffoon.
GERALT: Do we wait until the honorable lady is done with the venerable hick?
ROCHE: Waste of time, Looks like a good number of Flotsam's town watchmen are here... We should look around... Did you see that arbalist behind the house?
ROCHE: I'll get his attention, give him something to think about. Why don't you find out what they're guarding so closely.
MAN: My apologies, gentlemen, I could not help overhearing your conversation...
ROCHE: What do you want?
MAN: In point of fact, it's a matter for the witcher. I have an offer...
GERALT: An offer... Interesting.
MAN: I suspect you did not come to Flotsam for pleasure alone...
GERALT: You suspect right.
MAN: Do you know about the monster in the river?
GERALT: Might've heard something.
MAN: I expect someone will hire you to deal with it sooner or later. Thus, I presume that...
GERALT: Stop presuming, expecting and concluding. Just tell me what you want.
MAN: Our honored host is in possession of part of a trap, built especially for the beast in question.
GERALT: Go on...
MAN: Around back there's a storage area where Loredo keeps the treasures he confiscates from merchants and travelers. There are heaps of things out there...
GERALT: Let me guess, you know exactly where I need to look.
MAN: Precisely. I saw Loredo's men carrying the contraption across the garden in a crate. They placed it on a platform by the wall beyond which lies the craftsmen's district.
GERALT: Why are you telling me?
MAN: Why, we need to be rid of the beast as soon as possible! Good luck!
GERALT: What monster?
[Continues the same way as "Maybe".]
ROCHE: All right, I'll distract the guard. You sneak behind the house.
GERALT: Brilliant as ever.
[Roche calls out to the guard around the side of the house.]
ROCHE: Soldier! Report to me immediately!
SOLDIER: What do you want?
ROCHE: Shut it, soldier. Have respect for your superiors or spend the rest of your life on the king's galley.
SOLDIER: Apologies, sir, I didn't realize...
ROCHE: As I see it, the entire garrison could use a lesson in discipline. Isn't that right?
SOLDIER: Sir!
ROCHE: That's the attitude, soldier. The Commandant will hear of this.
[Geralt sneaks around. Through the windows next to the first guard, Loredo's mother can be seen mumbling to herself and puttering around what appears to be a fisstech lab.]
MARIETTA: The coca leaf will rid you of grief...
MARIETTA: Dispel the dark spider's web of dreams...
MARIETTA: La-da-dah, la-dah, da-da-da-doo...
MARIETTA: Marietta, pretty little Mary, has found a treasure trove..
MARIETTA: Leaves upon leaves, a coca plant grove... La-da-dum, da-dum, da-da-da-dum, -da-dum...
[Geralt manages to peek through one of the windows and overhear Loredo and Síle's conversation.]
SÍLE: You forget who you're dealing with, Commandant.
LOREDO: You must think me an idiot.
SÍLE: I cannot help myself. You take guardsman off the streets to guard carpets, fabrics and spices pilfered from merchants. Do you have any grasp of the responsibility that rests with you?
LOREDO: Don't teach an old man to piss, sorceress. I've ruled Flotsam for years.
SÍLE: Flotsam is ruled by a fear of Iorveth. That fear rules even you.
LOREDO: I've made my demands perfectly clear.
SÍLE: Like a crying babe deprived of its rattle. In time, Commandant, they'll hang you by the neck from a roadside tree like a regular bandit. And rightly so, for you're no better.
LOREDO: Your time will come too, sorceress. They'll pile kindling at your feet.
SÍLE: Enough! Fear has confused you. Think over what I said and give your answer before it's too late.
[Geralt retrieves the part for the kayran trap and heads back to Roche.]
ROCHE: Didn't like him from the start.
GERALT: Loredo's storing valuable 'gifts' from the merchants right here. He may be expecting Iorveth to attack.
GERALT: I overheard the Commandant talking to Síle. I couldn't pinpoint the topic of their conversation, but it seems to me he's angling for something.
GERALT: Let's pay the Commandant a visit.
ROCHE: We'll see what he has to say.
[Geralt and Roche go up the steps.]
GUARD: Go in - they await you.
ROCHE: Where are we to go? I'd hardly call this a hut.
GUARD: You, I mean, you sir, cannot enter. We've been ordered to let in the witcher but no one else.
ROCHE: Son of a bitch! Fine - he wants to play hard, we'll play hard.
GUARD: I don't want any trouble. I'll call for support!
ROCHE: No need. Tell Loredo I got the message.
GERALT: See you, Roche.
[Geralt runs into Síle in the hall.]
SÍLE: Here to see the Commandant?
GERALT: We have business to discuss.
SÍLE: Good luck... He's in a foul mood.
GERALT: Why?
SÍLE: We'll talk another time, and definitely elsewhere.
GUARD: In Flotsam, we cut the hands off thieves...
GERALT: I was looking for the privy.
GUARD: You're lucky the Commandant wants to see you. Come on.
[The guard brings Geralt in to see Loredo.]
GUARD: Commandant, sir, we caught the witcher sneaking around the garden.
LOREDO: Bring him in and leave!
GUARD: Yes, sir!
SÍLE: We were just discussing a certain matter. You here on business, too?
GERALT: The Commandant wanted to see me.
SÍLE: In that case, I shall leave you to it.
LOREDO: Finally!
GERALT: They didn’t want to let me in... while the sorceress was here.
LOREDO: Did you see her? Made up like a whore on parade day. They think they can do anything, those sorceresses.
LOREDO: I heard what happened in Temeria. You know your name's on a warrant? It's unfortunate... though nothing that should impede our dealings. See, I'm the law around here, and the law needs to know what the legendary White Wolf's doing in this cesspit.
GERALT: I'm a witcher. I hunt monsters for coin.
[Continues same as "LOREDO: I suppose we all have our secrets."]
GERALT: That's no concern of yours.
LOREDO: Listen, witcher - here in Flotsam, everything's my ploughing concern. Let me help you, Geralt.
GERALT: I do all right on my own.
LOREDO: I suppose we all have our secrets. I just hope you resist questioning my authority in public again.
GERALT: Let's talk business, Commandant.
[Continues same as from "LOREDO: I trust you're on our side?"]
GERALT: What about Vernon Roche? Why didn't you let him in?
LOREDO: Roche? Know the aura that surrounds him? Men like him act first and think later. And when they act, almost inevitably innocent blood flows.
[Continues same as from "LOREDO: I trust you're on our side?"]
GERALT: I'm looking for the man responsible for Foltest's death.
LOREDO: Here?
GERALT: I know the Scoia'tael had a hand in it, too. It's their trail I followed to Flotsam.
LOREDO: Lucky you found Bernard Loredo, then. If you're telling the truth, Iorveth's got royal blood on his hands. I can help you find him.
[Same as above.]
GERALT: The kingslayer - that's who I want. Huge man, pretty hard to mistake.
LOREDO: Was it him...?
GERALT: Yeah, he killed Foltest. Now he's sneaking around these woods.
LOREDO: In that case, we'll get him, too.
LOREDO: I heard you killed the kayran. Flotsam is grateful.
LOREDO: Let's say that squares the crimes of your friends. They're free to go.
LOREDO: I trust you're on our side?
GERALT: Whose side is that?
LOREDO: That of the people of Flotsam, of course. Terrorized by the elven bandits for years now.
GERALT: My enemy's enemy is my friend. We barely escaped with our lives the last time we ran into Iorveth.
LOREDO: Damned Squirrels draw ever nearer.
GERALT: What about the elves and dwarves in the trading post - the smiths, peddlers and hunters? They eat with you, sleep among you. Whose side are they on?
LOREDO: Hell if I know. That's my point, witcher - when you fight for survival, you need to be sure who your friends are.
LOREDO: The nonhumans in Flotsam... Sure, they eat, fuck, shit among us, but when Iorveth sounds the battle horns, who knows what they'll do.
GERALT: They haven't proved their loyalty already, placing walls between Iorveth and themselves?
LOREDO: They understand that bandit, witcher. They share his language, his methods, his beliefs. We let them live among us, but we watch them. One night, they just might cut our throats and open the gates.
GERALT: Talk like that makes me sick.
GERALT: I'm surprised they haven't turned on you already.
LOREDO: How so?
GERALT: The town guards treat nonhumans like shit. Frankly, I don't know what keeps them here.
LOREDO: I'll tell you what, Geralt - the hunger they'd face in the forest. But I grant you, those acts of, uh, insubordination need to be stopped. Soldiers are simple men. When you see your mate die, a Scoia'tael arrow in his throat, it's hard to look favorably at the elf who sells your wife colored kerchiefs.
GERALT: Iorveth talks about driving off the dh'oine, he calls the elder races superior. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the poorer nonhumans secretly support him.
LOREDO: Right you are. As long as Iorveth remains weak, they're afraid to join him. But what happens if he gains strength? Woe to Flotsam, I say.
[All continue with "LOREDO: You're a witcher." below.]
GERALT: Your point, Commandant?
[Continues with "LOREDO: You're a witcher." below.]
GERALT: A local conflict. None of my business.
LOREDO: You killed some elves on the riverbank outside Flotsam.
GERALT: We were attacked.
[Continues with "LOREDO: You fail to understand..."]
GERALT: There was a time those forests belonged to the elves. To them, humans are bandits.
LOREDO: Spare me your sympathy! The elder races, the elder language - plough it all! Today, they torch human settlements, they poison our wells and they murder us along the highways.
[Continues with "LOREDO: You fail to understand..."]
LOREDO: You fail to understand...
GERALT: It's you who doesn't understand, Loredo. To tell you the truth, I'm not human.
LOREDO: You an elf? A dwarf? No. Y'talking bollocks... I piss on the fact that they call you 'freak' for your white hair and glowing eyes. You're a human like any other.
LOREDO: We're fighting a war. And you, my friend, cannot straddle the fence.
[Same as "What about the nonhumans in Flotsam?"]
LOREDO: You're a witcher. Your job is to protect the simpletons from monsters. I protect them from the danger that lurks amongst the trees.
GERALT: You detest nonhumans.
LOREDO: I detest Iorveth, the coward who hunts the innocent instead of facing soldiers. I detest that whoreson who murders women and children while claiming that he fights for freedom! He's a monster, Geralt. He's the evil I protect people from. And anyone who helps a monster becomes a similar monster to my mind.
GERALT: Enough. I get it.
GERALT: I see where this is going.
LOREDO: Iorveth's no better than a monster that attacks those who go out to gather kindling. Matter of fact, he's worse - he's smarter and crueler.
GERALT: How do we get him?
LOREDO: I don't want you to kill him. Even you don't have a hope against his entire force.
LOREDO: I've an idea, but I'd rather not go into it now. The Squirrels are up to something. Every night their scouts come closer. I suspect they plan to attack the barge moored in the port.
GERALT: What's on the barge?
LOREDO: You mean who. Bandits, murderers, rapists - on their way to the dungeons at Drakenborg, as soon as...
GERALT: Their infamous leader joins them. The cherry on the cake, and Bernard Loredo's crown trophy.
LOREDO: Couldn’t have put it better myself.
GERALT: What do you want me to do?
LOREDO: As long as Iorveth remains free, humans, elves and dwarves will live alongside each other in deep distrust. I've got to learn what the pointy-eared rat is planning.
GERALT: How am I supposed to get that information?
LOREDO: Ha! You underestimate me, witcher. True, I have my prejudices, but I'm not blinded by them.
LOREDO: Take your friend, Zoltan, for instance - he contacted Iorveth.
GERALT: How can Zoltan help if he can't go outside the walls?
LOREDO: Hah! Step by step, Geralt, that's how you build trust.
LOREDO: You could start by tending to a problem we have. A beast, the kayran, has blocked all boat traffic. I'm losing tolls, that is, uh, the trading post is losing revenue. Kill the kayran and I'll declare your friends acquitted of their crimes. Then Zoltan can take you to see Iorveth.
GERALT: I'm a witcher. I don't work for free.
LOREDO: Course you don't. Help us capture the Scoia'tael commander and you'll be rewarded generously, straight from the trading post's treasury.
[Same as below.]
[Same as below.]
GERALT: I'll see what I can find out.
LOREDO: Though you stir up storms wherever you go, I actually believe you'll bring peace to Flotsam. Don't disappoint this town, Geralt.
GERALT: I'll talk to Zoltan.
LOREDO: I trust you'll make the right decision.
GERALT: I came and heard you out. Now I've heard enough.
LOREDO: You're refusing to help?
GERALT: You're vile, Loredo. I hope you and Iorveth face each other someday, and may the best rat win.
LOREDO: You'll regret those words, witcher! I promise you that. Now get outta my sight!
LOREDO: Farewell. [If Geralt rejected him outright, he says nothing.]
[Geralt leaves Loredo's house. If the kayran is still alive, Geralt can find the man who gave him the tip about the trap.]
MAN: What happened?
GERALT: You neglected to mention the regiment of guards... They caught me.
MAN: Lucky we're all in mourning... I mean, otherwise they would've hung you on the spot.
MAN: Success?
GERALT: I still need a few things, but you helped me a lot.
MAN: You'll find me at the market. Best of luck, witcher.
[Geralt goes to find Roche.]
ROCHE: Turned me away at the door, the bastard!
GERALT: All set.
ROCHE: We'll meet later. Don't forget your weapons on the way out.
[The two of them leave the compound.]
[After making his preparations, Geralt goes to see Síle in her room above the tavern.]
SÍLE: Witcher, I've been awaiting you.
GERALT: We need to kill a monster that sinks boats.
SÍLE: Afraid?
GERALT: No, but I suspect we'll need to draw it onto the shore.
SÍLE: Leave that to me.
GERALT: I can't wait... I bet it's something spectacular.
SÍLE: Believe it. You'll do the honors.
GERALT: The honors?
SÍLE: Once on the riverbank, you'll kill him... her... whatever it is.
GERALT: Did you find out where the kayran came from?
SÍLE: I didn't even try.
GERALT: So I take it you know it was created by a mage.
SÍLE: I guessed as much. And what of it? Do you wish me to feel guilty, apologize for some madman? I don't intend to. How did you know it was a mage?
GERALT: I didn't. Just guessed.
GERALT: Triss claims the kayran was born of magic.
SÍLE: She's right. Something that large couldn't possibly evolve in the waters of the Pontar. It looks like the result of some botched experiment... It's growing rapidly and will probably age just as quickly.
GERALT: If we're going to work together, we should get to know each other.
SÍLE: Is that so? Very well... Ask what you will.
GERALT: Are you and Triss friends?
SÍLE: Friends...? Colleagues, I'd say. Acquaintances, perhaps. I know all the sorceresses in the North. We aren't that many in number. Which is why we support one another.
GERALT: Do you always take on witchers' work?
SÍLE: Occasionally. If it pays exceptionally well. You don't like the competition?
GERALT: We should each do whatever we're best at.
SÍLE: Well... We'll have to see. I certainly hope I don't embarrass myself.
GERALT: It's no bother, as long as demand outweighs supply.
SÍLE: Right.
GERALT: I like your kind of competition.
SÍLE: Let's hope it works out for us both. I haven't traveled this far to have the kayran slip through my fingers now.
GERALT: No time to lose.
SÍLE: Exactly.
GERALT: I won't let you down.
GERALT: Traveling alone - that can't be pleasant.
SÍLE: I've never needed protection. I have ways of dealing with unpleasant surprises.
GERALT: What about pleasant surprises?
SÍLE: Is that how you think of yourself, witcher?
GERALT: You seem to see me that way.
SÍLE: We'd best get to work.
GERALT: People usually avoid witchers.
SÍLE: Then I hope I don't regret my decision not to.
GERALT: There's only one way to find out.
GERALT: Zoltan told me you hired him to make something.
SÍLE: Your dwarven friend has a way with stones. He helped repair my megascope. The set of the diamond must be very precise if it's to focus the light appropriately.
GERALT: What's that? It looks impressive.
SÍLE: A megascope.
GERALT: What does it do?
SÍLE: Many complicated, magical operations. It allows me to communicate with other sorceresses, for instance.
GERALT: I never expected to see you at Loredo's.
SÍLE: Whereas I was sure you would show up there. The Commandant is terribly jealous about his small trading post. Anyone of import is summoned to hear him out sooner rather than later.
GERALT: What did he want from you?
SÍLE: That is my concern, certainly none of yours. We're not a tandem, Geralt. We'll kill the kayran together, but that is all.
GERALT: I'll be ready soon.
SÍLE: I certainly hope so.
GERALT: I've got everything I need. Let's go.
SÍLE: Excellent!
[Scene cuts; Geralt and Síle are outside together in the forest.]
SÍLE: Ready?
GERALT: Are you wearing makeup?
SÍLE: We all have our rituals.
GERALT: From what I know kayrans are colorblind.
SÍLE: Enough, Geralt. Time to draw the beast out of the water.
GERALT: Got an ace up your sleeve?
SÍLE: I always do. Don't get eaten and we'll soon both be heroes.
GERALT: I hope you're right.
[Síle goes to take her position on top of the bridge above the kayran's lair.]
SÍLE: You descend into the lair. I'll stay on the bridge and pull it out onto the bank. Take care, it'll be extremely dangerous, even on land.
[Geralt makes his way down to the lair. From her position, Síle casts a spell. The kayran erupts from the water and attacks. Geralt meets it in battle. As he does so, Síle shouts advice from above.]
SÍLE: Use a Sign! Trap it with the Yrden!
SÍLE: Yrden! Trap it with the Yrden!
GERALT: You come down and trap it!
SÍLE: It's angry! Watch out!
SÍLE: Quickly! It's about to break free!!
[Geralt severs the kayran's tentacles. As it thrashes, it damages the bridge, which collapses and traps the beast. Geralt runs up to its carapace and uses a bomb to kill the kayran.]
SÍLE: We did it! Not a bad fight, wouldn't you say, Geralt? Are you all right?
GERALT: The beast got me a couple of times.
SÍLE: I've heard you've been in more dire situations. I wonder, are the stories about you true?
GERALT: They couldn't be more true. Especially the ones that are made up.
GERALT: People are always talking shit.
SÍLE: That's how legends are born.
GERALT: What stories?
SÍLE: If you think I'm going to repeat some of the legends circulating about you, you're deeply mistaken.
GERALT: What now?
SÍLE: I must harvest the most valuable ingredients while the corpse is fresh. I'd prefer to get the entire carcass to my laboratory and strip it down to the bone. But that would be a waste of Power and simply too much work. I shall take only...
GERALT: What have you heard about me?
SÍLE: A number of things.
GERALT: You won't talk about them?
SÍLE: I've no time, now. The fresher the ingredients I collect, the higher price I'll get. Sorry.
GERALT: I'm fine.
SÍLE: I've used up much of my energy, so if you needed help...
GERALT: I've learned to help myself. Hm... a sorceress worried about me... Should I be scared?
SÍLE: Playing it tough, like every witcher.
GERALT: New bruises and scars come with every fight. Toughness comes from experience.
SÍLE: You talk like an old man. Yes, your hair is gray, but I believe the blood courses quickly through your veins.
GERALT: Have you made plans that include me?
SÍLE: For now, my plans only involve the kayran.
GERALT: I had no idea it'd be so big.
SÍLE: Triss was right, it's mutated... magically induced. I must get to work, collect the most valuable ingredients. What a shame so much will go to waste. Forgive me, time is of the essence.
GERALT: Farewell, then.
SÍLE: Don't forget to collect the reward.
GERALT: Oh, I won't.
[Geralt collects his reward from the merchant.]
GERALT: Job done. The kayran's dead.
MERCHANT: Good work. You've earned your reward.
[Geralt can, optionally, check back in with Loredo.]
LOREDO: Any news for me, witcher?
GERALT: I killed the kayran. Síle and I dragged it out of the water, toppled a piece of the bridge to weigh it down, and blew it up.
LOREDO: I em... I heard...
GERALT: So, Dandelion and Zoltan are free?
LOREDO: As we agreed.
GERALT: You've got a heap of soldiers for such a small trading post.
LOREDO: Bandits swarm to trading routes like flies to shit. Only troops can guarantee some order here. We're the last Temerian outpost in this area and we'll not give in to a bunch of elves.
GERALT: I guess you're finding it hard to get rid of Iorveth.
LOREDO: He's stubborn, it's true... but he's met his match. And I'm not about to leave Flotsam to the same fate as the other towns and villages the Scoia'tael have burned to the ground.
LOREDO: The citizens of Flotsam owe the elves nothing. They built their homes and workshops with their own hands in the wilderness, not on the ruins of an elven town. If need be, we'll remind the long-ears where they belong.
LOREDO: Get out of my sight!
[After Geralt collects his rewards for killing the kayran, Triss is waiting for him.]
TRISS: Well, well... How's the Commandant as a host?
GERALT: It's people like him who might help us.
TRISS: Or put us in shackles and throw us into the river.
GERALT: He told me they're keeping Scoia'tael prisoners on a barge in the port.
TRISS: Did he mention if Ciaran aep Easnillen, Iorveth's right hand elf, is among them?
GERALT: No...
TRISS: He may know something about the kingslayer.
GERALT: Let's pay him a visit.
[Geralt follows Triss to Loredo's prison barge.]
GUARD: What do you want?
GERALT: To speak with the wounded prisoner.
GUARD: Very funny. Go on... away with you!
TRISS: Commandant Loredo sent me to heal him.
GUARD: Who are you?
TRISS: A healer.
GUARD: Healing elves? That don't sound like the Commandant.
GERALT: He's Iorveth's second-in-command.
GUARD: Even better if he kicks the bucket.
GERALT: He's no use to us dead. He could know a lot. Loredo doesn't want him taking his secrets to the grave.
TRISS: That's why he sent me.
GERALT: All right. Just don't try anything stupid.
GERALT: Are you questioning orders?
GERALT: Would a pouch full of orens make it sound like the Commandant?
GUARD: For that much you can even bugger him. Just make it quick.
GUARD: No one's allowed.
GERALT: I'm here on Commandant Loredo's orders.
GUARD: I heard he cut a deal with you, but...
GERALT: So get out of my way.
GUARD: He won't tell you much. He's dying.
[Geralt and Triss board the barge and go down below to the cells.]
GUARD 1: Shut your traps! Stop bloody moaning down there!
GUARD 2: Look, Cougher's dozed off.
GUARD 1: Wakey, wakey, Cougher. You'll fall asleep forever any day now.
GUARD 2: Heh, heh, heh.
GUARD 1: Look, Birdie's all wet. Hey, Birdie, you get wet just looking at me?
GUARD 2: Get ready, Birdie, we'll be down to see you right after our watch.
[Ciaran is laying prone in the back of the boat. Triss kneels to examine him.]
TRISS: They beat him bad... He's got at least a dozen fractures. I'll need your help.
GERALT: What do I do?
TRISS: The spell I'm going to use is painful. It could kill him if he thrashes around.
GERALT: I'll use the Axii Sign to calm him.
TRISS: Perfect.
CIARAN: AAAaarghhh...!!!
TRISS: Focus, or you'll kill him!
GERALT: Killing is a witcher's trade.
TRISS: Let's try again.
[Triss casts her spell.]
GERALT: It's no use.
CIARAN: You wish, whoreson. I'm no traitor.
TRISS: He's raving.
CIARAN: Vatt'ghern?! Where am I?
TRISS: In Flotsam, on the prison barge.
CIARAN: The convicts' barge...? I'm done for.
GERALT: We need your help. We need to speak with Iorveth.
CIARAN: Like hell, dh'oine. I'll tell you nothing.
[Gives the same options to continue as below.]
GERALT: How did Loredo's goons catch Iorveth's right hand elf?
CIARAN: I was betrayed, how else?
[Gives the same options to continue as below.]
GERALT: We're fighting Loredo, too - a common goal.
CIARAN: I once made the mistake of trusting dh'oine. Never again.
GERALT: You'd be dying in pain if it wasn't for us.
CIARAN: If it wasn't for the dh'oine, I wouldn't be here.
GERALT: There's a witcher in Iorveth's unit.
CIARAN: Like every dh'oine... he turned out to be a bastard.
GERALT: What happened?
CIARAN: He betrayed us... He said he had an offer for me. So we met - where roses of remembrance grow. I should have known...
TRISS: Roses of remembrance?
CIARAN: Yes, some of the last in the world. He thought that I'd betray my elven brother in order to control the unit. I refused, and there was a fight.
CIARAN: I've never seen anything like it... No human can move that fast. It was a massacre. I was the first to be hit, thus I survived. I would have bled to death had Loredo's men not found me... Letho will kill Iorveth and all will be lost. So many dead, so much suffering, all for naught.
GERALT: Letho - he's the kingslayer?
CIARAN: Yes.
GERALT: Why does the dh'oine want Iorveth dead?
CIARAN: He used us. From the start. Our hatred... But he no longer needs Iorveth, sees him as a thorn in his side, though I don't know what Letho wants.
GERALT: What does Iorveth want? Why Flotsam?
CIARAN: Go plough yourself.
GERALT: Only I can warn Iorveth. Tell me.
[Continues with "CIARAN: Flotsam is only the beginning."]
GERALT: You've got no choice. Tell me, or I'll kill you.
[Continues with "CIARAN: Flotsam is only the beginning."]
GERALT: You have to tell me, I'm on your side.
[Continues with "CIARAN: Flotsam is only the beginning."]
CIARAN: Flotsam is only the beginning. We're no bandits, we fight for freedom. In due time, Iorveth will answer the call, and we'll emerge from the woods, joining the battle.
GERALT: What battle?
CIARAN: He wasn't specific.
GERALT: In that case, I'll ask Iorveth himself.
CIARAN: Ugh. I'd like to see that.
GERALT: We got what we came for.
TRISS: What now?
GERALT: Iorveth.
TRISS: What if Iorveth already knows?
GERALT: I've got an old saying all ready for him: my enemy's enemy is my friend.
CIARAN: Warn him, Gwynbleidd. Iorveth fights, for that is what he does best. He's Aen Seidhe - a real one, a free one. Among the last... Fighting makes sense - now more than ever before. There is still hope.
GERALT: What're you talking about, Ciaran? Hope for what?
CIARAN: For change, for a better tomorrow... I'll not see it - they'll torment me to death on this barge and I'll go gladly where the apple trees bloom. But you must warn Iorveth.
GERALT, NARRATING: Yennefer told me that Ciri has departed for good. She inhabits another world and is happy there. Before she left this one, she gave us the Isle of Avallach. Our island... We stopped counting time.
TRISS: Geralt... Are you all right?
GERALT: I've been to the Isle of Avallach, among the apple trees and the mists. After the massacre in Rivia, Ciri took me there, and Yennefer. The wraith riders kidnapped Yen, and I pursued them.
TRISS: But...
GERALT: Triss, this is important. I feel like everything's coming together. When the witchers found me barely alive a half year ago near Kaer Morhen, I was fleeing the wraiths of the Hunt. They continued to pursue me - in the Outskirts, then in Vizima when I killed the Grand Master... Now I know it was no coincidence.
TRISS: Ciaran mentioned roses of remembrance, growing somewhere near here. Cedric claims likewise. If that's true...
GERALT: Right now I should be searching the forest for Iorveth, not looking for flowers.
TRISS: ...I could restore your memory.
GERALT: You sure?
TRISS: Everything seems to indicate that. Whatever's blocking your memory is clearly weakening. I think I could break that barrier with just one petal from a rose of remembrance. Those flowers are truly powerful.
GERALT: In that case, Iorveth can wait.
TRISS: Want me to go with you?
GERALT: I'll take care of this on my own. Wait for me in town.
TRISS: I want to help...
GERALT: I'll manage.
TRISS: Uh-huh...
GERALT: This won't take long. I'll ask some locals about the elven ruins, find the rose, and I'll be back.
TRISS: I'll be waiting.
GERALT: I'd love your company.
TRISS: All right, then. Let's go. Cedric mentioned there are some old elven buildings near the cascade in the forest. We should start there.
GERALT: Lead the way.
[If Geralt chose not to have Triss go with him, he can ask around Flotsam for tips on where to go, starting with the herbalist Anezka.]
GERALT: I'm looking for a rose of remembrance. Know where I can find or buy one?
ANEZKA: Not your lucky day, wanderer. Sold my last one, oh, three winters ago, must be. But earnestly, I received one a few years back from a huntsman who sought to make me his woman. He found it deep in the forest, where practically no one dares venture.
GERALT: Even you?
ANEZKA: Fate needs no tempting. The huntsman's long since dead, and he was a large, strong man who knew the forest well. I'm in no hurry to see the beyond.
GERALT: Any idea who could tell me more?
ANEZKA: Well, no one knows the wood better than Cedric.
[Geralt goes to Cedric.]
GERALT: I need a rose of remembrance. Can you help?
CEDRIC: You speak of Eldan and Cymoril's bloom...Yes, Gwynbleidd, I know where they grow.
GERALT: Where might that be?
CEDRIC: In the garden of the eternal lovers...
GERALT: Where's that?
CEDRIC: It's no place for humans. Loredo pays some rats to bring him sculptures from the garden...
GERALT: I'm not working for Loredo.
CEDRIC: Got a drink? Vodka'd be best.
GERALT: Argh... Cedric.
CEDRIC: I must have a drink. The specters approach to torment me with their visions. I can feel it. Do you have any vodka?
GERALT: I'm fresh out.
CEDRIC: I must acquire some drink.... Please help me, Gwynbleidd.
GERALT: You've lost your mind to drink if you think I'll go looking for liquor right now...
CEDRIC: I think nothing of the sort. But I need a loan, some gold. I'll pay you back...
GERALT: Thanks.
GERALT: Here.
CEDRIC: Ah, thank you. The forest has been calmer since you killed the kayran, you know.
GERALT: Glad to hear it. Now focus, Cedric. Roses of remembrance... Where can I find some?
CEDRIC: Proceed south through the forest, all the way to the lake. Beware of the endregas and nekkers, and the traps that I've set. Nearby, on a plateau, you'll find the garden of Eldan and Cymoril...
GERALT: Liquor will kill you, Cedric... You should drink less.
CEDRIC: I prefer this fog to madness. Wouldn’t you?
[Geralt goes to the elven ruins Cáelmewedd and retrieves a rose. He brings it back to Triss at the tavern.]
GERALT: Triss... I found a rose of remembrance.
TRISS: Hmmm... I bet it's beautiful there.
GERALT: Might've been at one time. Now it's just plain sad.
TRISS: I need time to devise the spell. It could take as much as a few days.
GERALT: Mm-hmm.
TRISS: What do you plan to do while you wait?
GERALT: I'm going to meet Iorveth.
TRISS: Well don't get yourself killed - that'd be pretty stupid now.
GERALT: What're you getting at?
TRISS: You're about to recover your memory, which will give you a whole new perspective on things. We'll learn what happened to Yennefer...
GERALT: Uh-huh. And you expect me to drop everything and tell Roche, 'Hey, it's been great, but I've got places to go and people to find'?
TRISS: You know you could. I-I mean, you don't really owe him anything.
TRISS: I'm just afraid you'll get caught up in something and you won't be able to back out. Iorveth's a sly old elf, he's been fighting humans for a full century at least... This Letho is no common bandit either, and I shudder to think who put him on the warpath... It's a mire, Geralt, deep and hungry, and it could swallow you whole before you know it.
GERALT: It possibly already has.
TRISS: I want you to know that I'm prepared to travel to the end of the world with you to save Yennefer. I owe you that, I owe her that... I'm prepared to drop everything - the trappings of court life, politics, the regicides... I could even live at Kaer Morhen. It's up to you.
GERALT: Triss...
TRISS: Let me finish - I can only say this once: If you want to go alone, I'll understand... and I won't try to persuade you otherwise.
GERALT: I can't know what the future holds. I don't know what else is hidden in my mind. But whatever it is, whatever happens, I don’t want to lose you. I'd have to be an utter fool and complete ingrate to let you go.
TRISS: That's kind, thank you... Does that mean we're leaving the regicides to Roche and tending to our own matters?
GERALT: I really would like to go, but I need to clear my name. Foltest's men and bounty hunters of all kinds would never let it go. We'd be fugitives - and that's not a life I'd want for me or for you.
GERALT: Besides, I'd feel as if I'd given up when there was still something to do. I'd feel like I fled. And as I see it, we haven't lost yet.
TRISS: Whatever your decision, I want you to know you can count on me. I need a few days to prepare the spells.
GERALT: I need to talk to Zoltan about Iorveth. It's not a closed conversation - we'll talk again, but only after I've settled things with the kingslayer.
GERALT: I think so... And I think you're right - I don't owe anyone anything.
TRISS: I'm glad you've noticed that.
GERALT: But that doesn't mean I'm willing to sit around doing nothing. You need time anyway, and in that time I'll catch the kingslayer.
TRISS: Geralt, please be careful.
GERALT: I'll go see Zoltan, and together we'll go find Iorveth. With a little luck, I'll capture the kingslayer, and then... we can go back to living our own lives.
TRISS: Good. Will you talk to Roche?
GERALT: I'll think about it...
GERALT: If all goes well, I'll catch the kingslayer before you finish preparing the spells...
TRISS: And if it doesn't go well?
GERALT: Triss, do you really expect me to spend two days at the tavern drinking with the locals while Letho's out there taking control of a Scoia'tael unit...?
TRISS: No. But what will you do? What if Iorveth scoffs at your news, what he says Letho's escaped and no one knows where to find him? Will we go? Will we leave the regicide to Roche and continue with our own lives?
GERALT: I gotta give this some thought.
TRISS: You've got time. A few days.
GERALT: And I think best while doing. I'll meet with Iorveth. With a little luck, I should be able to capture the kingslayer before you've finished your preparations.
TRISS: If you say so.
GERALT: Once I've recovered my memory, we'll decide what to do.
[If Geralt agrees to leave with Triss, he can go talk to Roche in the tavern to inform him.]
GERALT: A few days from now, I plan to leave, get back on the Path, back to my witcher's work. That'll mean the end of our mission.
ROCHE: Care to tell me what prompted this decision?
GERALT: Triss - she knows how to restore my memory.
ROCHE: Why not drop everything and leave now?
GERALT: Triss needs time to prepare the spells.
ROCHE: You're giving up... No other name for it - you're just giving up. What of the kingslayer? Many still believe you're him.
GERALT: I don't think I care anymore. Those whose opinions I value, well, they know the truth.
ROCHE: Uh-uh. You see someone kick a dog and you're incapable of letting it go. And you want to release that fiend who we've succeeded in cornering, who's thrashing to get out of the cage we’ve put up around him?
GERALT: I want nothing of the sort. I'm not leaving for a few more days. In that time I'll catch Letho for you. That's the kingslayer's name, incidentally... I know how to get him.
ROCHE: How?
GERALT: You're not going to like this, but it'll involve working with the Scoia'tael...
ROCHE: Is your mind completely ploughed at this point? Did Triss put this nonsense in your head?
GERALT: Listen to me... You'll get your kingslayer soon. I'll give you him or his head. After which you'll clear me of all charges and let me go my way.
ROCHE: What else? Perhaps you'd like me to embrace Iorveth in gratitude as well?
GERALT: Iorveth's not my problem. I'm no elf hunter. I've never been one, and I don't intend to become one.
ROCHE: Oh, enough... You've made your decision - I can see that. So be it... But I think we all know who's being the prick here.
[This concludes the quest.]
[If Geralt asks Triss to accompany him, they go together to the waterfall.]
TRISS: Ugh... I think we've arrived. The cascade, the menhir. We need to take the path leading upwards.
GERALT: Gardens in the middle of forests... Those elves really liked to complicate things.
TRISS: Stop whining. It's not far now.
TRISS: Cedric told me a beautiful legend about this place.
GERALT: Legends are almost always beautiful, especially elven ones. The reality often leaves a lot to be desired.
TRISS: Well, Cedric also said the site itself was something wonderful.
TRISS: The rose must be here somewhere.
GERALT: I'll look around.
TRISS: Eldan and Cymoril. Cedric said Cymoril eclipsed even Francesca Findabair with her beauty, and Francesca's reputed to be the world's most beautiful woman.
GERALT: Cedric drinks too much.
TRISS: He really has visions, you know. He really has the gift. He could learn to control it if he drank less...
GERALT: Cedric drinks to get rid of the visions. And that's something I understand perfectly well.
[Triss and Geralt come to Eldan and Cymoril's garden and stop in front of the statue of the two lovers.]
TRISS: Oh my. Lovers... Look, Geralt, it's beautiful.
GERALT: Mhm.
TRISS: I just don't understand it. How did the elves become so cruel? The one with the scar had so much hatred in him.
GERALT: Places like this make you realize just how much they've lost... There used to be entire elven cities, and the forests were theirs to enjoy, not to hide in. Humans destroyed that, put them in reservations. Iorveth and his kind are taking revenge, though not all elves are like that.
TRISS: Ciaran said there's a lot more at stake...
GERALT: He has his ideal, a certain vision of the world, but do you think there's room for humans in it?
TRISS: We're practically one and the same.
GERALT: Wrong, Triss. We've been learning from each other for generations, but we're different at base.
TRISS: I don't know why I find that awfully sad.
GERALT: Just like this garden. Beautiful and sad.
[Geralt picks a flower.]
GERALT: Triss...
TRISS: Cymoril's rose of remembrance... Legend has it they wilt unless nourished with blood, and also if they're sold... But give it to someone you love, and it'll live forever.
GERALT: This one's for you.
TRISS: Ohh, Geralt...
GERALT: I want you to keep it. If there's any truth to the legend, it shouldn't wilt, even if you pluck a petal or two.
TRISS: Thank you.
GERALT: Well, this is awkward...
TRISS: Oh, please, Geralt. It's just some stupid elven story. Give me the rose before you break it.
GERALT: It's not stupid, it's just that...
[A trio of bandits enter the garden.]
BANDIT 1: This is the statue, Curly.
BANDIT 1: Don't mind us.
BANDIT 1: Imagine the coin we'll get. I won't leave the brothel for a month.
BANDIT 2: Six weeks, even.
BANDIT 1: Where does that woman get the gold for all this? I mean, her and the old man - they're buying a new house, and now these statues for the garden. Must be defrawing the treasury. What's a town chancellor do, anyway?
BANDIT 2: It'll be ploughing hard to move.
BANDIT 1: We'd never shift it in one piece. I know - we'll break off the legs, the heads, remove it in bits.
TRISS: Break off your own head, clown!
BANDIT 3: Shut your trap, cunt.
[Geralt and Triss have to fight the bandits. As Geralt kills the last one, a fourth one appears from over the wall and ambushes Triss. Geralt leaps forward to save her, and both he and Triss end up falling through the ground into an elven bathhouse.]
TRISS: Incredible what the Aen Seidhe built before human ships ever appeared in the Pontar Delta. Elves possess a sensitivity humans can't ever hope to acquire.
TRISS: Looks like we're stuck.
GERALT: Mhm.
TRISS: There must be another way out of here.
GERALT: Mhm.
TRISS: Why're you looking at me that way? Do I have something on my face?
GERALT: Nuh-uh.
TRISS: What's going on in that head of yours, witcher?
GERALT: Nothing, sorry. We need to find another way out.
TRISS: Are you all right, Geralt?
GERALT: Yeah, I'm fine. We should look for that exit.
GERALT: Any Scoia'tael scouts in the area heard the sounds of the fighting. They won't miss that hole we dropped through either...
TRISS: And here I thought I was the cautious one...
GERALT: Did you say something?
TRISS: No, nothing.
GERALT: Oh, you know, stuff. You could use a bath.
TRISS: So could you.
[If Geralt chooses "You could use a bath": Triss and Geralt get intimate in the bath. Above them, Scoia'tael enter the garden and stop to examine the bandits' bodies. One is an elf, Hearvihen, and the other a dwarf, Zagen.]
HEARVIHEN: A witcher's blade. Letho comes here to think...
ZAGEN: Well, he's not here now, so we've no reason to stay.
HEARVIHEN: The dh'oine stole the story of Eldan and Cymoril, as they now steal our roses of remembrance. A more silly and shallow tale I've never heard. An enchanted wood, a beautiful elven couple living within, a handsome, human prince arrives, riding a milk white stallion... Bloede dh'oine!
HEARVIHEN: We Aen Seidhe remember how it was... Limitless devotion, passion, commitment... and sacrifice. Legend has it the lovers' sighs are enchanted within these very stones, though only those in love can hear them.
[The Scoia'tael turn to leave.]
ZAGEN: Singing bushes... jabbering stones... Elven hogwash. [pauses, hears the sound of Triss moaning] Well, I'm buggered.
[Geralt and Triss get dressed.]
TRISS: We should take walks more often. For a while there, I forgot all about Flotsam, the Scoia'tael, the kingslayer, the whole world, really...
GERALT: Nice to know I still have that power...
[Initiates the "I need time to devise the spell." conversation. After Geralt has either agreed or disagreed with Triss, a muffled voice can be heard shouting.]
ROCHE: Geralt! Geralt!
[One of the walls crumbles, and Roche bursts through.]
ROCHE: There you are. Is everything all right?
ROCHE: This is nice...
ROCHE: What a beautiful place.
TRISS: Very...
GERALT: How'd you find us?
ROCHE: Finding those I seek is a speciality of mine. Now let's get out of here - the Scoia'tael are out in droves.
GERALT: Wait, Vernon. We need to talk.
ROCHE: About what?
GERALT: Actually, it can wait...
ROCHE: Fine, then. Let's get out of here.
[Choosing "Nothing. Let's get out of here" initiates the "I need time to devise the spell" conversation. After Geralt either agrees or disagrees with triss, he breaks the wall with Aard, and he and Triss climb up to the surface. The trio of Scoia'tael have not left yet.]
HEARVIHEN: A witcher's blade. Letho... He comes here to think.
ZAGEN: I don't give a goat's balls what that rogue does for leisure. Can we go, or do you need to ponder some rocks?
HEARVIHEN: Eldan and Cymoril. A beautiful story that humans turned into a shallow lie. Bloede dh'oine!
ZAGEN: I know, I know... humans are scoundrels and pricks. You ready?
HEARVIHEN: But we Aen Seidhe remember how it was, the limitless devotion, passion... and sacrifice.
ZAGEN: Please stop, poetry irks me.
HEARVIHEN: Legend has it the lovers' sighs are enchanted within these very stones, though only those in love can hear them.
ZAGEN: Singing bushes... jabbering stones... Elven hogwash.
[Geralt and Triss emerge.]
HEARVIHEN: Dh'oine!
GERALT: Caelm, Seidhe... We're not looking for a fight.
ZAGEN: Hear that, Hearvihen? A few words of Elder and he thinks he can go.
HEARVIHEN: This is elven land, dh'oine, upon which your kind dies.
GERALT: There's no need to fight. We'll leave your land in peace.
ZAGEN: Unbelievable! Spits in your face and claims it's raining!
HEARVIHEN: Shut up, Zagen. Speak, dh'oine: whose are those corpses?
GERALT: I'm not explaining myself to you, elf. Stand and fight.
HEARVIHEN: I was hoping you'd say that.
[Results in a fight.]
GERALT: They tried to take the statue. We persuaded them otherwise.
ZAGEN: Or that it was a drunken brawl.
HEARVIHEN: But a dh'oine killing other dh'oine to protect elven statues? Pff...!
GERALT: We wanted to see this place, nothing more.
ZAGEN: Nothing worth stealing around here.
HEARVIHEN: Now you've seen it, go! Before I have a change of heart.
ZAGEN: You're setting 'em free, Hearvihen?
HEARVIHEN: Go.
GERALT: Petty robbers from the trading post. I took care of them.
GERALT: I've had enough killing for today.
[The Scoia'tael either leave or are killed by Geralt and Triss.]
GERALT: Fresh air.
TRISS: I'm glad you asked me along - that was edifying.
GERALT: Really? What did you you learn?
TRISS: You know why Eldan and Cymoril resisted all and stayed together?
GERALT: Why?
TRISS: Because they're statues. Just statues...
GERALT: Triss...
[Once they leave the garden, if Geralt agreed with Triss, he can meet with Roche in the tavern and tell him about his decision to leave with Triss. This concludes the quest.]
[After retrieving a rose of remembrance, Geralt talks to Zoltan in the tavern.]
GERALT: Zoltan, I need to ask you a favor.
ZOLTAN: Shoot.
GERALT: I heard you know the local Scoia'tael.
ZOLTAN: You heard? Meaning some goat's arse in a helmet hollered it out in the market square?
GERALT: I need some way to get to this Iorveth.
ZOLTAN: Perhaps I could help, but as long as this ploughing ban remains in force, I can't stick my beak outside Flotsam's gates.
ZOLTAN: We can go just as soon as I finish this trinket for Síle. That megascope of hers - delicate as a maiden's confidence. One tiny flaw on the diamond, and - poof! - it's liable to crumble. Don't you worry. The Scoia'tael won't go anywhere. I'm sure you can find a way to be useful in the meantime.
ZOLTAN: I've some minor details to fine tune. Don't hold it against me. If I don't finish, the rag's likely to tell Loredo I'm uncooperative, and I don't want that trouble again.
ZOLTAN: You know... I don't want you thinkin' I'm all chummy with the Scoia'tael. And Iorveth detests me. Why would you want to see him, anyway?
GERALT: He knows where the kingslayer is.
ZOLTAN: Iorveth? And here I always thought him a common thug. All right, no reason to sit on our arses. Come on - you can tell me everythin' on the way.
[Geralt follows Zoltan.]
GERALT: Lead on, Zoltan.
ZOLTAN: Tell me, who said I have contacts with the Scoia'tael?
GERALT: Loredo.
ZOLTAN: What a prick.
GERALT: That's why he wanted to hang you - for making deals with the Squirrels?
ZOLTAN: What?! I met a few, yes, but made no fucking deals.
GERALT: What about their leader?
ZOLTAN: They say Iorveth's mad, but the Scoia'tael are at his beck and call. Sod knows what he wants.
GERALT: Hope he'll tell me what it is.
ZOLTAN: Tell you what, of two evils, Loredo's the bigger prick.
GERALT: Because he almost hanged you?
ZOLTAN: Because he stirs up the locals against nonhumans. And there's word he's colluding with Kaedwen.
GERALT: What's his angle?
ZOLTAN: Greed. King Henselt would gladly annex more land and grant Loredo privileges. Come on, we've got a long way to go.
ZOLTAN: We need to go deeper into the forest. I hope they didn't change the password.
GERALT: You know their password? What're you playing at, Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: All right... The Scoia'tael asked me to command a unit.
GERALT: No wonder Loredo wanted you hanged.
ZOLTAN: Ah, they may have asked, but I didn't accept their fucking offer!
[They stop at a shrine in the forest.]
ZOLTAN: This is it. I was due to meet them here.
GERALT: I know. They're aiming arrows at us.
ZOLTAN: What? Geralt, I know full well you're always vigilant, but quit poking fun at me.
GERALT: Give them the password.
ZOLTAN: What 'them'?
GERALT: Hurry up. They're edgy.
ZOLTAN: Kier-ke-gaard!
[Two Scoia'tael approach.]
ELE'YAS: Stop bawling. What do you want?
ZOLTAN: Countersign.
ELE'YAS: Hei-de-gger. I asked you a question.
ZOLTAN: Take us to Iorveth.
ELE'YAS: Why?
GERALT: If we wanted to speak with you, we wouldn't ask for your leader.
ELE'YAS: Iorveth won't talk with you.
GERALT: You don't know that.
ELE'YAS: Leave while you're still able.
ZOLTAN: The two of you won't scare us off.
GERALT: There are four more in that tree.
ELE'YAS: How do you know?
GERALT: I can hear them breathing. One's sick or on fisstech.
ELE'YAS: How...?
GERALT: He's wheezing.
ZOLTAN: What? You elven cocks gone soft?
GERALT: We just want to talk to Iorveth.
ELE'YAS: Wait at the clearing - the dwarf knows where. We'll let Iorveth know.
ZOLTAN: Make sure you do. Come on, Geralt.
ZOLTAN: I know what those elven pricks have planned. Been there once.
GERALT: What are you talking about?
ZOLTAN: That clearing is a monster's lair. Huge whoreson with a shell on its back.
GERALT: An arachas in these parts? I thought that was impossible.
ZOLTAN: I don't know the shit's name, but it's terrifying. They sent us into a trap.
GERALT: Tough. Let's go.
[They come to the ledge above the clearing where Iorveth fed a nekker to the arachas.]
ZOLTAN: We're here. That creature prowls down there.
GERALT: Right where we're supposed to meet Iorveth.
ZOLTAN: Exactly! Any ideas?
GERALT: [shrugs] I last fought an arachas some time ago.
ZOLTAN: I never had the swiving pleasure. Not that I mind.
GERALT: Wait here...
ZOLTAN: What are you...? Think me a limp prick?
[Geralt and Zoltan descend into the clearing. The arachas scuttles out of its lair.]
ZOLTAN: This is the place the elves mentioned.
GERALT: That thing approaching us is no elf.
ZOLTAN: I'll leave it to you, Geralt. Monsters are not my speciality.
[As soon as the arachas falls, Scoia'tael leap out of hiding, fixing bows on Zoltan and Geralt. Iorveth emerges.]
IORVETH: A lovely show, Gwynbleidd. But tell me, was it worth it? An uneven fight, and certain death await you anyway.
GERALT: I could ask you the same thing.
IORVETH: What do you want, vatt'ghern? Speak quickly, before I kill you both.
GERALT: You're a bandit, Iorveth - a thief and murderer. No wonder the Commandant wants to get you.
IORVETH: I am who I need to be.
[He turns to go, and the Scoia'tael fire on Geralt and Zoltan.]
GERALT: Let Zoltan go, Iorveth. You have me.
IORVETH: I have you both. A witcher, apparently seeking an ugly death... And a dwarven traitor, spitting on the honor of his folk.
ZOLTAN: Know what I spit on, you divot? On you bloody squirts, riff-raff killing innocent men!
IORVETH: Innocent men? So agitated when you shout that, it's even funny.
GERALT: Loredo was right. Peace is impossible as long as you live.
IORVETH: Geralt of Rivia - the Commandant's bloodhound. In which case die, you pitiful little dh'oine.
[The Scoia'tael kill Geralt and Zoltan.]
GERALT: I want the kingslayer. Letho, the man whose crimes I'm accused of.
IORVETH: If you hadn't become Foltest's lackey, you wouldn't have been there when he was murdered. Do you really expect me to betray a useful ally?
GERALT: You attacked us on the riverbank for no reason. You owe me.
IORVETH: Not so. The only dh'oine I owe anything is Roche, but believe me, I shall pay that debt soon.
GERALT: Letho betrayed you. He wanted to make a deal with your comrade, Ciaran.
IORVETH: Ciaran aep Easnillen is dead. Two weeks ago his warriors were ambushed and killed. You should invent better lies, Gwynbleidd.
GERALT: He's on the barge. Wounded, but alive. He turned Letho down, and his unit paid the ultimate price.
IORVETH: If you speak the truth, Letho will die. But words alone are not enough.
GERALT: What's your angle, Iorveth?
IORVETH: You wouldn't understand.
GERALT: Hiding in woods, killing berry-pickers, eating roots...
IORVETH: We live by our own rules, doing what's necessary to attain our goal.
GERALT: So it's pride that keeps you sneaking around woods and sleeping in ditches? You've fallen low, Aen Seidhe.
IORVETH: Watch your words, Gwynbleidd.
GERALT: Self-appointed heroes like you will doom your race.
IORVETH: Perhaps. But you won't live to see it. Va fail, vatt'ghern.
[The Scoia'tael kill Geralt and Zoltan.]
GERALT: What is your goal?
IORVETH: What's it to you, Geralt? Esseath vatt'ghern... You'd tell me to stuff it up my arse.
GERALT: Not everything deserves that fate. My life now depends on your whim, so I'm curious.
IORVETH: Then listen well. The two dead kings were whoresons who'd damn their own children to stay in power. But in the east there's someone truly deserving of a crown.
GERALT: So, the hired assassin turned out to be a traitor...
IORVETH: It's his word against yours...
GERALT: For now. Why do you trust him? Because he's a dh'oine who agreed to do shady work for you?
IORVETH: He did what had to be done. He proved nobody's untouchable.
GERALT: You attack and murder the people of Flotsam, forgetting that elves and dwarves live among them.
IORVETH: That's no life! They've been stripped of self-respect, forced to live and die by human laws. They're more dh'oine than you, Geralt.
GERALT: You still trust this assassin?
IORVETH: You may be lying...
GERALT: If I'm lying, so did Ciaran.
IORVETH: We'll investigate it for his sake. We shall see how Letho reacts to your sensational news.
GERALT: Where is he?
IORVETH: The ruins of Cáelmewedd. For some reason he likes the place. My unit will cover us. Ready?
GERALT: Why did you want Foltest dead?
IORVETH: He might have appeared charming, but in reality he allowed the elder races in Temeria to be oppressed. He was like all dh'oine, but his death has more significance.
GERALT: We need to go.
GERALT: Let's meet there. I have something to take care of first.
IORVETH: Va fail, Gwynbleidd. Just don't try any tricks...
ZOLTAN: We came here together, we're leaving together.
GERALT: No, Zoltan. Your presence might raise suspicions.
ZOLTAN: As you wish. Just don't get slaughtered.
[Geralt and Iorveth arrive at the elven ruins of Cáelmewedd.]
IORVETH: We need a ruse. Tell Letho you've captured me and want to hand me over to him.
GERALT: And you?
IORVETH: I'll be unarmed, hands bound. If you're not lying, his reaction will confirm it. I don't trust you, of course. My warriors will cover us. If you try anything stupid...
GERALT: I get it.
IORVETH: I don’t think so. Do anything stupid and they'll tie you down on an anthill, face coated with honey. You'll scream so loud even the storm riders will hear you.
GERALT: Are you always so grandiose? We could just tell Letho to own up.
IORVETH: Ayd f'haeil moen Hirjeth taenverde.
GERALT: Conquer with courage rather than strength?
IORVETH: [sarcastic clapping] Exactly. Let's go.
[Geralt and Iorveth make their way into the garden.]
IORVETH: My warriors observe us. One wrong move and you're a dead dh'oine.
IORVETH: Be careful. Letho is incredibly quick.
IORVETH: Make sure you don't betray our ruse.
IORVETH: If he's betrayed me, Letho is a dead man.
[Letho is sitting at the base of the statue when Geralt and Iorveth arrive.]
LETHO: Geralt of Rivia... What's the meaning of this?
GERALT: I'm here to negotiate.
LETHO: Ah! Iorveth, the woodland fox, caught at last. I underestimated you.
GERALT: You killed Foltest. You'll answer for that.
LETHO: You're the only one who saw it happen. You'll do the answering.
GERALT: I wondered what a human was doing among the Scoia'tael.
LETHO: 'My enemy's enemy is my friend.' Know the saying? The Scoia'tael are my brothers in vengeance.
GERALT: Who are you?
LETHO: You really don't remember?
GERALT: I'm sick of that question.
LETHO: So it's true. And here I feared that you'd ruin it all. I am Letho of Gulet. I'm a kingslayer.
GERALT: Tell me who you're working for and the elf is yours.
LETHO: We work for ourselves.
GERALT: We?
LETHO: The kingslayers.
GERALT: Demavend, Foltest... Who else? Who the hell are you?
LETHO: We've met, Geralt. Do you remember?
GERALT: No...
LETHO: I'll never forget it. You saved my life, White Wolf. We fought side by side, now we'll cross blades. This wouldn't be necessary if I'd killed Iorveth first.
IORVETH: Serrit and Auckes will drown in their own blood.
LETHO: Oh, I don't think so. My men will finish their task long before the Scoia'tael in the Pontar Valley realize you're dead.
GERALT: Serrit and Auckes - who are they?
IORVETH: Kingslayers the Scoia'tael are assisting in the Pontar Valley, in Upper Aedirn.
GERALT: Ciaran aep Easnillen told me you want to eliminate Iorveth.
LETHO: Even if I do, why would you help me?
IORVETH: Bloede dh'oine.
GERALT: I don't see any other way to do this... Draw your sword.
GERALT: This doesn't need to end in blood. Tell me everything.
IORVETH: Enough of this farce! Vedrai! Enn'le!
[Scoia'tael leap out.]
LETHO: What game are you playing?
GERALT: One that you just lost.
[A Scoia'tael falls to a crossbow bolt. Roche and the Blue Stripes join the fray.]
IORVETH: Give me my sword.
IORVETH: Die...
[Iorveth clashes with Roche.]
ROCHE: Get the kingslayer!
LETHO: I have to kill you.
GERALT: Try it. But I'm no king.
[Geralt and Letho tumble into the bathhouse below.]
LETHO: Such a pity we're on opposite sides.
LETHO: I see you still know how to fight.
LETHO: Why do you hound me?
GERALT: They think I killed Foltest!
LETHO: It's your own fault for playing soldier boy.
GERALT: Why would a witcher kill kings?
LETHO: I'm a witcher no more. That was long ago.
GERALT: So you're a hired thug now? Congratulations!
GERALT: Should've surrendered when you could.
LETHO: You fight well, but you were better once.
GERALT: The muscles remember.
LETHO: One thing the Wild Hunt couldn't take from you.
GERALT: A witcher and a few elves are enough to kill a king?
[Letho's Aard sends Geralt flying across the room, sword knocked from his hand. Letho picks it up.]
LETHO: You've no idea how many people were eager to help us.
GERALT: You really think they will all keep quiet?
LETHO: Iorveth's time is running out. The others will be judged and condemned for sowing chaos.
GERALT: So why...?
LETHO: You were one of us, Geralt. You saved us. Now we're even.
LETHO: Your witch is good with magic. Think she'll be able to teleport me to Aedirn? If she behaves, I won't harm her...
GERALT: I'll find you.
LETHO: See you in Aedirn, then.
[Letho drops Geralt's sword and leaves.]
[Iorveth arrives after Letho is gone.]
GERALT: Where's Roche?
IORVETH: We killed a few of his men, the rest ran. Is Letho dead?
GERALT: On his way to Flotsam.
IORVETH: How do you know?
GERALT: He wants to find Triss.
IORVETH: Kill him. Before he contacts the others.
GERALT: You shouldn't have trusted a dh'oine. Let's go.
IORVETH: We can't go there, Geralt. The garrison.
GERALT: Of course... I forgot what kind of warriors you are.
IORVETH: Maethe taerde, Gwynbleidd. Good luck.
[Roche arrives after Letho is gone.]
ROCHE: What happened?! Where is he? Where's the kingslayer?
GERALT: Fled. Iorveth?
ROCHE: Captured. My men have taken him to Flotsam. The kingslayer may attempt to spring him from prison.
GERALT: I doubt it. He needs Triss.
ROCHE: Really? Why?
GERALT: I've set the elves against him so he can't move through the forests. I have to find Triss first.
ROCHE: Follow me, then.
ROCHE: We've got Iorveth. That changes everything!
[If Geralt did not accept Loredo's offer, the guard at the gate won't let Geralt in.]
GUARD: Halt! Who goes there?
GERALT: The witcher. Open the gate.
GUARD: Sorry, I can't. My orders were simple: don't let the witcher in.
GERALT: Who gave that order?
GUARD: Commandant Loredo. I can't let you in... It's dangerous inside.
GERALT: A close friend is in mortal danger... You wouldn't want me to blame you for a tragedy?
GUARD: Won't put that one by me, witcher.
GERALT: I found this coin pouch near the gate... You happen to lose it?
GERALT: Who'd be bothered by a witcher within the town walls?
[Geralt enters to find Flotsam in flames. Humans are mobbing nonhumans in the streets.]
RIOTER: We were too good to you! Fattened yourselves on our toil!
DWARF: Have mercy!
[Geralt interrupts.]
RIOTER 1: Look lads, another... freak.
RIOTER 2: Whaddaya want?
GERALT: Disperse, go home. Now.
RIOTER 1: Uhhhh... What?! You're not in charge here, freak!
RIOTER 2: Grab a pitchfork!
[Geralt is forced to fight.]
GERALT: You want blood?
RIOTER 1: That's our business. Piss off.
GERALT: You should've stayed home, you bastards.
RIOTER 2: Get the freak! Kill him!
[Geralt is forced to fight.]
GERALT: Leave the dwarf alone. He's done you no harm.
RIOTER 2: We best go home, folks....
DWARF: Thanks, witcher. If not for you, I'd be a dead dwarf.
GERALT: Hide. The humans have gone mad.
[Geralt overhears a ruckus from the tavern.]
DANDELION: You're killing innocents!
INNKEEPER: Innocents? Who was it slaughtered our lads in the forest?! Stinking nonhumans! Begone, shitty fiddler, or we'll slit your throat, too!
ELF WOMAN: We didn't kill those humans in the forest.
INNKEEPER: Iorveth's dogs! Elves did! You murdered my son, you bastards!
GERALT: He needs help.
[Geralt enters the tavern to find Dandelion standing between the innkeeper and some rioters and a pair of elf women.]
DANDELION: Geralt!
DANDELION: And now, good people, return to your homes before you taste a witcher's blade...
DANDELION: So what'll it be, innkeeper?
INNKEEPER: They killed my son! Damned elves! I want their blood for that!
GERALT: Your son fought the Scoia'tael. They killed him.
INNKEEPER: It's one and the same! Elves are elves!
GERALT: I won't let you harm them.
INNKEEPER: You don't scare us! Kill the vagrants!
[Geralt is forced to fight.]
GERALT: You'd best calm down if you want to live to sire another son. What do you say?
[Geralt is forced to fight.]
RIOTER: Consider yourselves lucky, elven scum! But one day... Eh, come on, folks.
GERALT: These elves had nothing to do with your son's death. Don't shed their blood.
INNKEEPER: Now that you mention it... Yeah, leave them be. Go home, folks!
ELF WOMAN 1: Thank you, Gwynbleidd. We'd be dead if not for you.
ELF WOMAN 2: The sooner we flee, the better...
GERALT: Take care.
DANDELION: Phew, that was close.
GERALT: Who opened the gates of hell?
DANDELION: I don't have any proof, but my coin's on Loredo. Rulers are always looking for a way to cover their mistakes and failures. And the mob always loves a circus, whether merry or bloody. This town will never be the same. A time of disdain has come.
GERALT: How did the rioting start?
DANDELION: They say it's revenge for those soldiers who died following Roche. But they were just thugs on Loredo's pay. Almost no one misses them. 'Spontaneous' riot, my ass... Loredo's staying out of it, keeping his hands clean, but his thugs are inciting the mob. I've seen several soldiers in civilian garb leading it. But you won't find any proof against the Commandant.
GERALT: I don't intend to.
GERALT: Why don't the guards do anything?
DANDELION: Why would they? The Squirrels slaughtered their cronies and Loredo hasn't given them any orders.
GERALT: We need to find Triss.
DANDELION: Last I saw her, she was on her way to meet Síle in her rented quarters at the inn. I told Triss about the megascope Zoltan's been building.
GERALT: Let's go, there's no time to lose.
DANDELION: I was lucky enough to get the key to Síle's nest... Incidentally, for a big woman, the innkeeper's wife is surprisingly nimble...
[Outside, Geralt interrupts another mob of humans attacking a trio of dwarves.]
DWARF: Help!
GERALT: I've walked into a slaughterhouse...
RIOTER 1: What sort of freak is that?
RIOTER 2: It's that sorcerer!
GERALT: Go to your homes, now.
RIOTER 2: Or what? You'll enchant us all?
RIOTER 1: Get the nonhuman!
[Geralt is forced to fight.]
GERALT: Want some nonhuman blood?
RIOTER 1: Ah, defendin' traitors, are we?
RIOTER 2: Grab him! Come on lads, slaughter him with the others!
[Geralt fights the rioters.]
GERALT: Leave them alone. They've done you no harm.
RIOTER 2: Let's go home lads....
DWARF: Thank you. I just about felt the blade's chill between my ribs... We've done them no harm... Why are they so...?
GERALT: Mobs always need a scapegoat after a defeat. Take care of yourselves, the trading post's still boiling.
[Outside Síle's room is a smear of blood.]
GERALT: Blood... I've got a bad feeling about this.
[Geralt and Dandelion go in to find Síle's room trashed and her megascope destroyed.]
DANDELION: Not good...
GERALT: Don't just stand there. We need to look for clues.
[The body of Síle's bodyguard lies in the corner.]
GERALT: Síle's bodyguard... His neck's broken, no wounds. So, that's not his blood.
DANDELION: Triss enters, breaks the guard's neck, then wounds herself...? That's stupid.
GERALT: What a mess. Someone had a good time in here. Trashed everything...
DANDELION: I don't get it. Someone else had to be here...
[Geralt examines the wall of Síle's room.]
GERALT: Dandelion, look!
DANDELION: What is it?
GERALT: A peephole. Someone might've been spying...
DANDELION: The brothel's behind that wall. Maybe the madame saw what happened?
GERALT: Let's go.
[Dandelion and Geralt run into the brothel to find Margot curled up next to the bed beside the body of one of her girls.]
MARGOT: Come back later, we're closed... They've killed one of my girls...
DANDELION: It's Derae, Geralt. That was her room.
GERALT: What happened?
MARGOT: They murdered her. Yesterday they loved her, drank wine with her, told her she's pretty... Today, five of them came, drunk on blood, screaming filth.
GERALT: She had a client at the time?
MARGOT: No, she was with me. What're you looking at? I was consoling her...
GERALT: I was hoping you knew what happened in the next room. I noticed a peephole, but if you were busy...
MARGOT: We were, until we heard voices beyond the wall. Síle normally cast spells that blocked both sight and sound, but there was nothing like that this time.
MARGOT: We started peeping - me first. I saw that redhead, Triss Merigold, and Cedric, our drunkard ex-Squirrel. The redhead approached the magic mirror and said, 'Let's see who our ice queen's been talking to recently.'
DANDELION: She meant Síle.
MARGOT: Even I figured that out. She waved her hands, shouted an incantation, and a man appeared in the room. Mighty ugly - Derae was so scared she squealed. When I finally got Derae out of the way, a different figure was in the room. A woman Triss called 'Philippa.'
[A flashback to Derae and Margot peeping. On the other side of the wall, Triss converses with a sorceress.]
TRISS: Greetings, Philippa.
PHILIPPA: Triss... You're looking nice. Why are you using Síle's megascope? I can't believe she approved it. That's like using her toothbrush.
TRISS: Síle's oblivious to it.
TRISS: What did Síle want from you?
PHILIPPA: Isn't it obvious? Two Northern rulers have perished. We've been thinking on these developments.
TRISS: Temeria is in chaos and I lost my position. There goes the effort we put into building peace! What's your intention? What has the Lodge decided? I mean, it was created to protect the interests of magic.
PHILIPPA: We'll adjust to the new order and make use of this situation.
TRISS: Five years of my work wasted! The Peace of Cintra hangs by a thread and Temeria will plunge into civil war any day now! There's nothing to use! We need to find those responsible and dispense justice!
PHILIPPA: Calm down. Two things should be partaken cold - sorrel soup and politics. Calculate and don't let your emotions lead you. We can't resurrect Foltest, so stop playing the avenger. We'll proceed wisely and deliberately. We'll use the situation. Understand?
TRISS: At least help me clear the witcher's name.
PHILIPPA: Triss, stop thinking with your vagina and get a hold of yourself. The witcher will manage...
TRISS: Do you think the girl...
PHILIPPA: Saskia the Dragonslayer! Legend has it she killed a dragon!
TRISS: Can she oppose Henselt's might?
PHILIPPA: It won't be easy, but she's already accomplished miracles.
TRISS: So war is inevitable?
PHILIPPA: Henselt can't be reasoned with.
TRISS: Why did Síle come to Flotsam?
PHILIPPA: It's a delicate matter. We need someone at Henselt's court, but he hates sorceresses...
TRISS: I know.
PHILIPPA: Henselt's only son died in a hunting accident three years ago. The king has failed to sire more offspring, in spite of trying incessantly. Síle claims she can heal the king's faulty 'apparatus,' but needs very rare ingredients.
TRISS: Which she intends to harvest from the kayran.
PHILIPPA: Exactly. This way a sorceress will have the king's ear again.
TRISS: I heard you left Redania.
PHILIPPA: I intend to stop Aedirn from falling apart. There's a popular uprising here, a real fight for freedom. You'd like it...
TRISS: I doubt it.
PHILIPPA: It had started before Demavend's death. The rebels are led by a girl - both beautiful and smart. She's achieved the impossible - humans and nonhumans, nobles, burghers and peasants, marching side by side towards a new beginning...
PHILIPPA: They gave the royalists a heavy thrashing. Now they're the only armed force in Aedirn.
TRISS: What happened to Demavend's son, Prince Stennis?
PHILIPPA: He's joined the rebellion and makes a virtue of necessity. He pretends to like the idea of equality and justice.
TRISS: What's your intention?
PHILIPPA: To stop Henselt of Kaedwen conquering Upper Aedirn. Our bellicose king would become too powerful. That's for a start. Then I'll need to ensure the right individual ascends to the Aedirnian throne.
[Flashback ends.]
MARGOT: That's all I know, really...
GERALT: Dandelion, who's Philippa? Do you know her?
DANDELION: Philippa Eilhart - a sorceress counselor to King Radovid of Redania. She's a grand mistress of the world's most fetid cuisine - politics.
DANDELION: She's amoral in a crystalline way, so devoid of conscience that she's a phenomenon. Rumor is she's out of favor at the Redanian court, which, if true, she probably arranged herself in order to leave the capital.
GERALT: What happened to Triss?
MARGOT: I don't know. I already told you about the only conversation I heard... just before those murderers came. They kicked me and stabbed Derae. But I heard fighting from the other room - the sorceress was screaming.
MARGOT: When the murderers left, searching for other victims, I peered outside. Thought I saw Cedric sneaking through the alleys, towards the forest. He was staggering.
GERALT: Thank you, Margot. I owe you.
MARGOT: Witcher, wait. Give this to Iorveth.
GERALT: A letter?
MARGOT: The names of Derae's killers. He'll understand.
GERALT: You're spying for Iorveth?
MARGOT: I help him from time to time. Just give him the letter.
GERALT: I'll try, but I can't promise anything.
GERALT: I'd rather not get involved...
MARGOT: Those bastards deserve punishment.
GERALT: True. But I won't be party to another murder.
MARGOT: Will you turn me in?
GERALT: No. You've got nothing to worry about.
GERALT: I'm not going to meet Iorveth.
MARGOT: Will you turn me in?
GERALT: No. Don't worry.
GERALT: Dandelion, wait here for me. I'm going to find Cedric.
[Paths converge at Cedric's death.]
[Geralt and Roche enter Flotsam to see a festival going on.]
ROCHE: A truly triumphant entry...
LOREDO: Long live Witcher Geralt! Long live Vernon Roche. Here's to you, noble lords. Long live Temeria!
ROCHE: It seems we've given the commandant occasion to throw a feast.
LOREDO: Open barrels of the best wine! I want to see whole hogs on spits! I hereby declare a holiday! Celebrate, my lords! Today's my treat - no innkeeper or wench will take a penny from you!
MAN: Here's to our heroes!
LOREDO: Have a drink, witcher!
GERALT: Another time.
LOREDO: That's uncalled for, but... Hard luck.
MAN: Here's to you, witcher!
GERALT: See you, Vernon.
ROCHE: Right. And don't worry about our prisoner. We'll take good care of him.
GERALT: I need to find Triss! Maybe Dandelion'll know something...
[Geralt enters the inn. Dandelion is performing for the townspeople.]
DANDELION: ...then Geralt whipped out his silver chain and throttled the beast. Her eyes popped and she spasmed terribly as she drew her last breath!
DANDELION: That's not even the best story about him! I could tell you many a tale, but I'm a tad parched...
INNKEEPER: A round of mead for everyone!
MAN 1: Here's to our heroes!
MAN 2: Long live the witcher!
DANDELION: And here he is! Honorable ladies, noble lords - allow me to introduce Geralt of Rivia!
DANDELION: I was so worried about you!
GERALT: Dandelion, we need to talk...
DANDELION: Geralt, you're Flotsam's hero! Have a drink - Loredo's buying.
GERALT: I guess I deserve a shot... Cheers.
DANDELION: Here's to the beautiful ladies!
GERALT: Later, Dandelion. I'm busy right now.
DANDELION: Won't wet your whistle with me, old friend?
GERALT: I need to find Triss.
DANDELION: Triss? Oh, yeah, Triss! Totally forgot. She went to meet Síle at her rented quarters. To see this, thingummy, megascope, or something... Anyway, here's to the beautiful ladies!
GERALT: The ladies'll have to wait. I need you. Come on.
DANDELION: I was lucky enough to get the key to Síle's nest... Incidentally, for a big woman, the innkeeper's wife is surprisingly nimble...
DANDELION: I just hope Triss is all right.
[Outside Síle's room is a smear of blood.]
GERALT: Blood... I've got a bad feeling about this.
[Geralt and Dandelion go in to find Síle's room trashed and her megascope destroyed.]
DANDELION: Not good...
GERALT: Don't just stand there. We need to look for clues.
[The body of Síle's bodyguard lies in the corner.]
GERALT: Síle's bodyguard... His neck's broken, no wounds. So, that's not his blood.
DANDELION: Triss enters, breaks the guard's neck, then wounds herself...? That's stupid.
GERALT: What a mess. Someone had a good time in here. Trashed everything...
DANDELION: I don't get it. Someone else had to be here...
[Geralt examines the wall of Síle's room.]
GERALT: Dandelion, look!
DANDELION: What is it?
GERALT: A peephole. Someone might've been spying...
DANDELION: The brothel's behind that wall. Maybe the madame saw what happened?
GERALT: Let's go.
[Geralt and Dandelion go into the brothel and talk to the sex worker inside.]
DERAE: Welcome, Dandelion. You're in luck - freebies today. But you still have to pay for a tag-team.
DANDELION: Derae, this is Witcher Geralt. We just want to talk...
GERALT: Tell us who used this room most recently.
DERAE: Margot and me.
GERALT: Margot?
DANDELION: The madame...
DERAE: What is it you want?
GERALT: Triss Merigold, redheaded sorceress - she was in the next room... Do you know what happened to her?
DERAE: W-we weren't spying. I know nothing...
GERALT: There's no need to be scared. Just tell us what you saw. I know you looked through the peephole.
DERAE: Margot was nervous about the holiday, she told the girls to give freebies today. Then she took me to me room and we made love. Just as I was, I was, well.... Well, we heard voices and Margot started spying. It was the sorceress and Cedric.
DANDELION: Are you sure?
DERAE: Yes. We started fighting for the peephole, but finally Margot let me take a peek. Triss said she was going to see who the 'ice queen' had spoken to recently. She approached the mirror and whispered something. There was a flash, and a terrible looking man popped out of the mirror.
DANDELION: What did he look like?
DERAE: Like a wyrm. A hungry, old wyrm.
DANDELION: Huh. I wonder...
DERAE: Triss was aghast, and the wyrm said, "Why so pale, Merigold? Have you seen a ghost?" Then he smiled maliciously, and...
[A flashback to Derae and Margot peeping. On the other side of the wall, Triss converses with a sorcerer.]
DETHMOLD: Why so pale, Merigold? Seen a ghost? What is it now?
TRISS: Greetings, Dethmold. I wondered who Síle had been talking to, recently...
DETHMOLD: Spying on each other, eh? That's new. What's your business?
TRISS: What did Síle want from you?
DETHMOLD: Why would I tell you?
TRISS: Because you hate her and only dislike me. You wouldn't miss the tiniest chance to make her life miserable.
DETHMOLD: Ah-heh. You're right. Síle wants to unsaddle me - to take my place at Henselt's side.
TRISS: Henselt hates sorceresses.
DETHMOLD: Henselt lost his son and is having problems siring an heir. He's no longer a young man. She promised him offspring. Said she'd guarantee a child if he finds a young, strong woman. He'd just need to...
TRISS: I know where children come from.
DETHMOLD: Prove she's lying and I'll be most appreciative.
TRISS: I can't, which means you've got a problem.
DETHMOLD: Slow down. I still play first fiddle, you know.
TRISS: I'm pursuing the kingslayer. Maybe you've heard something...
DETHMOLD: Oooh, that gives me the chills... Whoever he is, he's done for.
TRISS: You'll change your mind when the kingslayer nails your ruler.
DETHMOLD: Merigold, think as befits a mage, because right now you bring shame to all sorcerers. Foltest is dead. It's your fault and, as rumor has it, your witcher lover's, too.
TRISS: You don't believe that.
DETHMOLD: What I believe matters little - the rumors do. You and your witcher are finished in Temeria. Unless you catch the culprit.
TRISS: What's Henselt up to?
DETHMOLD: Are you out of your mind, Merigold?! Be glad I'm even talking to you.
TRISS: I need to know what's going on. Help me, Dethmold, and I'll return the favor.
DETHMOLD: You know nothing useful to me. And I don't want your graces - you don't tickle my fancy.
TRISS: We'll meet one day when you won't have a king to hide behind.
DETHMOLD: I wait eagerly, Merigold. And I can assure you, I won't be hiding.
[Continues same as "I have some information about Philippa."]
TRISS: You've heard that Philippa has left Redania?
DETHMOLD: Yes... Do you know where she is?
TRISS: I do. But first you'll answer my question.
DETHMOLD: Fine. A single question in exchange for information on Philippa.
TRISS: Do you know anything about the regicides? No lying.
DETHMOLD: Oh, a mistake, Merigold. I really know nothing. All I can tell you is that it's not of Henselt's doing. I'll let you know if I discover anything. Your turn.
TRISS: What are Henselt's political plans?
DETHMOLD: Ha, you're insolent, Merigold, but I gave you my word. Henselt wants to wrestle the Pontar Valley from Aedirn. And to force that weed Stennis to swear fealty.
TRISS: Prince Stennis, Demavend's heir?
DETHMOLD: The same. Aedirn bereft of the Pontar Valley will become a principality dependant on Kaedwen. Your turn.
TRISS: What does Síle want? What's her price for that miraculous cure?
DETHMOLD: A seat on the royal council and the title to three alchemical shops which give above three hundred pounds in yearly revenue.
TRISS: Well, well...
DETHMOLD: If I had a say in this, I'd set the dogs on her. Your turn, Merigold.
TRISS: Philippa's in Vergen - a small town near the Kaedweni-Aedirnian border.
DETHMOLD: I know its location very well. The remnants of Aedirn's army have assembled there, led by a lass said to have killed a dragon.
TRISS: Who's the girl?
DETHMOLD: She commands a rabble of peasants, poor noblemen and nonhumans. Even Prince Stennis, Demavend's son, can't disregard her. But that's of no consequence. Henselt will trample those vermin, and chase them off with whips. What's Philippa doing there?
TRISS: Telling you won't pay off, Dethmold. You know too little. Farewell.
[The flashback ends.]
DERAE: That's all. I didn't hear or see anything else.
DERAE: I tried, but she always cast a spell and I couldn't hear or see a thing.
GERALT: Every time?
DERAE: She forgot once. But she just sat before those mirrors and whispered, 'Where are you? Where?' That's all.
GERALT: Dandelion, who's Philippa? Do you know her?
DANDELION: Philippa Eilhart - a sorceress counselor to King Radovid of Redania. She's a grand mistress of the world's most fetid cuisine - politics.
DANDELION: She's amoral in a crystalline way, so devoid of conscience that she's a phenomenon. Rumor is she's out of favor at the Redanian court, which, if true, she probably arranged herself in order to leave the capital.
GERALT: Dandelion, this is confusing. What do you make of it?
DANDELION: Later, witcher. We need to find Triss.
GERALT: What happened to Triss and Cedric?
DERAE: I've no idea, Margot pushed me away to get a peek herself. But I heard a smash, shouting and a fight. Margot covered the peephole with a picture. She was pale and told me to keep my mouth shut.
DERAE: We sat for a while and left only when all was quiet. Margot went to her room and I haven't seen her since. But I noticed Cedric staggering away down the alley that leads towards the forest.
GERALT: Dandelion, wait here. I'm going to find Cedric.
DANDELION: What about Margot?
GERALT: Right, we should look for her first.
[Dandelion and Geralt rush downstairs to the brothel, only to find Margot hanging from the ceiling by a noose.]
GERALT: Damn! We're too late.
DANDELION: Why did she...?
GERALT: Doubt we'll ever know... I'm getting Cedric.
[A note at Margot's feet reveals her to have been one of Iorveth's informants.]
[Converges with Cedric's death.]
[Geralt follows the trail of Cedric's blood out into the forest.]
GERALT: Well, Cedric... where are you?
[If Geralt helped Roche capture Iorveth, on the way, two Scoia'tael attack Geralt.]
ELF 1: You'll pay for our blood, witcher!
ELF 2: Get him!
[Geralt continues along Cedric's trail.]
GERALT: He's bleeding heavily. I need to find him quick.
GERALT: He's slowed down, getting weaker. He can't be far.
[Geralt finds Cedric at the waterfall pool.]
CEDRIC: Caedmill, Gwynbleidd... I no longer feel the pain... Always wanted to die among trees...
GERALT: Cedric, what happened?
CEDRIC: Triss asked me for help. I killed the dh'oine guarding the door, and we broke in. Again, I killed a dh'oine...
GERALT: I know... Where's Triss?
CEDRIC: A witcher came in. Attacked us. I tried to protect Triss... He was fast... too fast for me. He hit Triss before she could cast a spell... He knew how to fight a sorceress... Then he ordered her to activate the megascope... He needed to get to Aedirn... Near the dwarven town of Vergen.
CEDRIC: Triss said it was madness, that she didn't have the coordinates... He gave her a strange look, threatening, 'Better give it your best, you're going first, with me right behind you.' Then I passed out. When I woke... they were gone. I knew I was dying. The forest called me.
GERALT: Why, Cedric? Why did you get involved?
CEDRIC: Why did you? Sometimes we must... Have I told you about my visions? That's why I drink. It helps. I'm safe in a mist of vodka... see nothing, feel nothing...
GERALT: Cedric, calm down.
CEDRIC: But now I see clearly. You need to regain your memory... Only then will you understand who's killing crowned dh'oine... and why.
GERALT: How can I get it back?
CEDRIC: In Aedirn... In a place tainted with dark magic... Where ghosts of the fallen will fight a great battle. Save their souls and your memory will return...
CEDRIC: Wha-What's happening...? The forest... I feel a presence...
GERALT: They come to bid you farewell.
CEDRIC: My forest... Va fail, Gwynbleidd. Farewell.
[Geralt closes Cedric's eyes and bows his head. Not long after, Dandelion and Zoltan arrive.]
DANDELION: Geralt! Where have you been!?
GERALT: The kingslayer, dammit. I almost had him.
ZOLTAN: He fled?
GERALT: Teleported to Aedirn.
DANDELION: What?! How?
GERALT: He forced Triss to cast the spell.
ZOLTAN: Shit!
DANDELION: Roche sent me to find you - we're setting off. He's learned something new.
ZOLTAN: The Scoia'tael are also up to something big.
GERALT: What's Roche planning?
DANDELION: He went off on Loredo, so it must concern the commandant. It's something important.
GERALT: What do you know about the Scoia'tael, Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: They want to free Iorveth and the other prisoners. Your help will be crucial.
GERALT: What are the Scoia'tael planning?
ZOLTAN: They want to storm the barge and they need your help!
GERALT: When did you join the Scoia'tael, Zoltan?
ZOLTAN: It's not like that. They're taking the prisoners to Drakenborg. A special prison for nonhumans. Bloody monument to human hatred! The Scoia'tael don't trust you, nor me for that matter. But you can change that.
GERALT: I'll talk to them. Maybe Roche or the Scoia'tael can finally be useful.
[Geralt checks in with Dandelion.]
GERALT: Any idea what Roche might want?
DANDELION: He mentioned something about Loredo, said it's very important you speak. You should see him.
[Geralt meets with Roche in the Blue Stripes' headquarters.]
BLUE STRIPE: Vernon's waiting inside.
GERALT: Roche... Things have gotten a little more complicated...
ROCHE: What the fuck were you doing with the Scoia'tael? You gave Iorveth a sword!
GERALT: You followed me?
ROCHE: I've got others who do that for me, Geralt. Ves, to be exact.
GERALT: Iorveth and Letho had a falling out. I wanted to take advantage.
ROCHE: Who's Letho?
GERALT: The kingslayer.
ROCHE: Ah, you're sworn friends now?
GERALT: Stop pissing me off! I tried everything I could to get him! If you'd trusted me, we could've captured him by now.
GERALT: Iorveth knows a lot about the kingslayer, and they no longer see eye to eye. He could lead us to him.
ROCHE: The only journey I'll make with Iorveth in tow is to the scaffold in Vizima's marketplace.
GERALT: The kingslayer fled to Vergen in Aedirn. He forced Triss to teleport them both.
ROCHE: Damn, he's made a mockery of us! If that's how he wants to play, I'll make him regret it.
GERALT: Flotsam's ablaze. How did it start?
ROCHE: When Ves reported you'd met with Iorveth, I ordered Loredo to provide us with backup. The incompetent oafs were supposed to wait for a signal, but the crossbowmen were twitchy.
ROCHE: We surprised them, but Iorveth... the Scoia'tael gave us hell. We barely escaped alive. Many of my men are wounded, but Loredo's people... When news that elves massacred a dozen soldiers hit the trading post, two of the soldiers' fathers decided to take it out on an elven girl.
ROCHE: You can imagine what happened next.
GERALT: I heard you have news for me.
ROCHE: Loredo has a deal with Kaedwen. That merchant living in his house is Henselt's agent. For a pouch of gold the good commandant promised to support Kaedweni troops in the event of a conflict...
GERALT: So, what now?
ROCHE: I want that spy, to squeeze him for information. And I've sentenced Commandant Loredo to death.
GERALT: Roche, we have to sail, we need to get to Aedirn.
ROCHE: I'm not leaving until I deal with Loredo. The spy may know something about the kingslayers. I wouldn't be surprised if Henselt of Kaedwen was behind all this.
GERALT: All right, let's deal with this spy.
GERALT: I'll be back later.
ROCHE: Dammit Geralt, it's not a date. You can't keep putting it off!
[Agreeing leads to Death to the Traitor.]
[Geralt meets Zoltan and Iorveth in the elven ruins.]
SCOIA'TAEL: Iorveth awaits you, dh'oine.
ZOLTAN: Be sure to speak to Iorveth, Geralt.
IORVETH: Where is he?
GERALT: He forced Triss to teleport them both to Aedirn.
IORVETH: No... The Scoia'tael in Aedirn will pay for my stupidity with their lives.
IORVETH: Ele'yas, ready the unit to march. You'll leave immediately.
GERALT: There was a massacre in Flotsam. The streets run red with your brethren's blood.
IORVETH: I know. That's why I need your help.
GERALT: You want me to murder humans at your side?
IORVETH: I wish death upon every one of those dh'oine. But that's not the point. Upper Aedirn is our goal.
GERALT: Why Upper Aedirn?
IORVETH: The Pontar Valley is a juicy piece of meat beset by hounds.
GERALT: The Scoia'tael bite hardest.
IORVETH: It's our land! Our forefathers' land. I'm no bandit, Gwynbleidd - I lead a great army.
GERALT: It sounds like you want to establish an elven state.
IORVETH: There is already an elven state - Dol Blathanna.
GERALT: Francesca Findabair rules there.
IORVETH: Rules? She merely carries out Nilfgaardian orders. We want a truly free state where an elf could visit a human inn! A land where humans could enter the forest without fear!
GERALT: And you plan to be king? King Iorveth I?
IORVETH: I've already told you, I know the head the crown would fit. We merely have to place it there.
GERALT: Whose head is it?
IORVETH: One who believes in integrity, honesty and honor. A person who won't sell out to Nilfgaard for a few florins. A woman named Saskia.
GERALT: Is she your fiancée?
IORVETH: Don't mock me, Gwynbleidd.
GERALT: It sounds like she's more important to you. Not just a woman whose head would fit the crown.
IORVETH: You'll understand once you meet her. Soon, the whole world will hear of the Virgin of Aedirn, a woman blessed with extraordinary courage.
GERALT: Has she proven her courage, or is that just talk?
IORVETH: She defeated a dragon.
GERALT: You said you're going to Vergen.
IORVETH: True.
GERALT: Why go to a dwarven town?
IORVETH: Henselt and his army have pitched camp on the right riverbank. The Virgin and a sorceress gather reinforcements to defend Aedirn.
GERALT: Which sorceress?
IORVETH: Philippa Eilhart.
GERALT: What's a Redanian sorceress doing in Aedirn?
IORVETH: Only she can reveal that.
GERALT: What does the leader of an army expect of me?
IORVETH: That you accompany me to Aedirn. Perhaps you'll find your sorceress there. You'll certainly find someone who will soon change the balance of power in the North.
GERALT: That's two days' travel on foot. You'll never make it in time.
IORVETH: I have a plan.
GERALT: What plan?
IORVETH: First you must agree to help us.
GERALT: Count me in. We'll get Letho together.
IORVETH: Excellent. We've no time to lose. We need to capture the prison barge.
GERALT: You want to enter a town where they're massacring elves?
GERALT: I take back what I said - you're not grandiose, you're mad.
IORVETH: My mother claimed likewise.
GERALT: I need to know more before I decide.
IORVETH: No, vatt'ghern. You helped me with Letho. That's the sole reason we're speaking. We may both be pursuing the same son of a bitch, but I haven't forgotten the company you arrived in.
IORVETH: Make your choice now. I'll let you go if you refuse. I couldn't do that later.
GERALT: I can help, but I need to take care of something first.
IORVETH: Be quick. I shall wait.
[Agreeing leads to The Floating Prison.]
[Geralt meets with Roche in the Blue Stripes' headquarters.]
BLUE STRIPE: Vernon's waiting inside.
ROCHE: How did it go? Did you get him?
GERALT: The kingslayer fled to Vergen in Aedirn. He forced Triss to teleport them both.
ROCHE: Damn, he's made a mockery of us! If that's how he wants to play, I'll make him regret it.
GERALT: I heard you have news for me.
ROCHE: Loredo has a deal with Kaedwen. That merchant living in his house is Henselt's agent. For a pouch of gold the good commandant promised to support Kaedweni troops in the event of a conflict...
GERALT: So, what now?
ROCHE: I want that spy, to squeeze him for information. And I've sentenced Commandant Loredo to death.
GERALT: Roche, we have to sail, we need to get to Aedirn.
ROCHE: I'm not leaving until I deal with Loredo. The spy may know something about the kingslayers. I wouldn't be surprised if Henselt of Kaedwen was behind all this.
GERALT: All right, let's deal with this spy.
GERALT: I'll be back later.
ROCHE: Dammit Geralt, it's not a date. You can't keep putting it off!
[Agreeing leads to Death to the Traitor.]
[Geralt meets Zoltan in the elven ruins.]
ZOLTAN: This place - I feel like ants are crawling all over my arse. The Scoia'tael will be heading for Upper Aedirn. Their contacts there could help you find the kingslayer.
GERALT: If Iorveth can trust me again.
ZOLTAN: They're waiting for my signal. Once I call them, there is no turning back. If you want to help free Iorveth - decide now.
GERALT: All right, let's do it.
GERALT: I need to think it over.
ZOLTAN: Then return when you're ready.
[Agreeing leads to The Floating Prison.]
[Geralt goes to the Scoia'tael meeting point.]
GERALT: I'm here.
IORVETH: At last.
GERALT: The trading post is in turmoil. You sure this is a good idea?
IORVETH: We'll not enter the town. We'll divide the unit. Take my best scout and attack from the harbor. I'll sail downriver with the others. Most of the guards should be at the trading post.
GERALT: So we're benefitting from the massacre?
IORVETH: Not the way I'd put it, but yes.
GERALT: Right.
GERALT: Let's go, then.
IORVETH: We shall separate on the cliffs.
GERALT: The harbor could still be dangerous.
IORVETH: What did you expect? A tea party?
GERALT: It's not that. We should trick them, as we did Letho.
IORVETH: We can't expect any support in the harbor.
GERALT: But most of the guards are at the trading post. There's only a handful to deal with on the barge.
IORVETH: Fine. They'll be dead before they can reach for their swords.
GERALT: Then we can signal the others.
IORVETH: None will get away this time. All right, let's do it your way.
IORVETH: Scoia'tael, evelienn. Vrihedd!
SCOIA'TAEL: Vrihedd!
IORVETH: Follow me.
[Geralt and the others scale the cliffs, fighting Loredo's men as they go. When they reach the top, they see a ship departing.]
GERALT: Roche...
IORVETH: Where are they sailing to?
GERALT: I don't know.
IORVETH: I have a feeling we'll meet again soon. Let's begin.
IORVETH: We part here. Eanvedd will lead you down to the port.
[Geralt's team looks out over the wharf where the prison barge is.]
ELF 1: What's with all the soldiers?
ELF 2: Did someone tip them off?
GERALT: We need to warn Iorveth.
IORVETH: Scoia'taeeeeeeeel!
GERALT: Or not...
ELF 2: Onward.
[Geralt and his team fight through the guards to the boat, where Iorveth is already in the thick of it.]
IORVETH: I feared you wouldn't make it, witcher!
[Geralt follows Iorveth to a point near the gate.]
IORVETH: This is the place.
GERALT: We have to get past the gate.
IORVETH: Piece of lembas.
GERALT: What?
IORVETH: Nothing, dh'oine... Lead.
[Geralt leads a bound Iorveth to the western of Flotsam.]
GUARD 1: Halt! Who goes there?
GERALT: The witcher. I've captured an elf.
GUARD 2: Some catch! That's Iorveth! Loredo'll piss himself with joy!
GERALT: He ordered me to take him to the barge.
GUARD 1: Ha! We're about to sink that heap.
GERALT: Right here?
GUARD 1: What, and foul the water? No, we'll drown them downriver.
GERALT: Let's go.
GUARD: Iorveth's been caught! Close the gates tight. I don't want a flea slipping through!
IORVETH: Want to hear something funny, Gwynbleidd?
GERALT: What?
IORVETH: I made life for these dh'oine a living hell, yet I've never been here before.
GERALT: Hm, now that you see the hell you helped to create, what do you make of it?
IORVETH: They see me for the first time as well, yet I sense not a hint of remorse.
GERALT: Should there be any?
IORVETH: I suppose not. They wish to watch me die, and I wish to watch them die. It's the way of things in this world. The other side of the coin - a concept devised by philosophers in Oxenfurt who have never set foot in Flotsam or any place like it.
GERALT: No one's going to die today, Iorveth. Apart from the commandant's paid lackeys.
VILLAGER: Get an eyeful! They've got the elf leader!
VILLAGER: It's Iorveth!
VILLAGER: They've got Iorveth!
GUARD: Oi! Where you takin' that elf?
GERALT: It's Iorveth. Loredo ordered me to put him on the prison barge.
GUARD: Fuck me - Iorveth himself! The son of a bitch shot me brother. Mind if I settle the score a little?
GERALT: Stand aside. There's no time for that.
GUARD: Why not?
GERALT: I have orders to take him to the barge.
GUARD: What are you, then? An elf lover?
GERALT: You don't have to follow Loredo's orders, but think what'll happen if you don't.
[Continues same as "Go on, let him have it."]
GERALT: Out of the way, or you won't know your mouth from your ass.
[Continues same as "Go on, let him have it."]
GERALT: Loredo said I'm to pass - undisturbed.
[Continues same as "Go on, let him have it."]
GERALT: All right, have your fun. But make it quick.
[The guard punches Iorveth in the stomach.]
GUARD: Urgh. That's for my brother, elven bastard!
IORVETH: Did you see that little dh'oine whore? I like his kind best. Killing them is like pulling weeds - strangely relaxing.
IORVETH: They might've gotten suspicious had you resisted longer.
GERALT: Think so? I just wanted a little diversion.
IORVETH: I think you'll find just that on the barge. I know I will.
GERALT: A simple "thank you" would do.
IORVETH: Oh, my manners. Consider yourself my hero.
[Geralt and Iorveth board the barge.]
GERALT: [whispered] I'll take those on the left. You go right.
[Geralt grabs a sword from a guard and attacks, throwing another sword to Iorveth.]
IORVETH: Scoia'taeeeeel!!!
IORVETH: Only now do I trust you!
GERALT: Don't be gullible, elf.
[Converges at Loredo in the burning building.]
[Zoltan lights the signal and several Scoia'tael, elves and dwarves, emerge from the forest.]
DWARF 1: I can't believe my eyes. We swore to find you...
DWARF 2: You've got some nerve, whoreson.
GERALT: I'll help you free Iorveth.
DWARF 1: Really? The sovereign lord will kindly help us free Iorveth... after he so kindly nabbed him to start with!
ZOLTAN: Agh, stop bawling. You can gnash your teeth, but the witcher can be very useful to yous, so swallow your pride.
DWARF 2: Sure he can be useful. As long as he don't betray us again.
GERALT: You don't want my help? Fine.
DWARF 1: Why are you here, Gwynbleidd?
GERALT: I heard you're going to Vergen.
DWARF 2: I'm goin' to kill you, Zoltan!
ZOLTAN: Ah, shut yer gob! Geralt's headed in that direction, too.
GERALT: Once we free Iorveth, you'll take me with you.
DWARF 1: If Iorveth agrees.
ZOLTAN: Drakenborg, or one more passenger to Vergen... I wonder which he'll choose.
DWARF 1: Before he was captured, Iorveth made a plan to free the prisoners.
GERALT: I was the one to tell him they're kept on the barge in the port.
DWARF 1: Now Iorveth's there, too. If you help us free them, you'll prove you're on our side.
ZOLTAN: Excellent!
GERALT: I'm ready.
DWARF 2: We'll meet at midnight, near the river bend.
GERALT: You mentioned Iorveth's plan.
DWARF 2: Everything in due time, Gwynbleidd. And don't try anything stupid. We've an eye on you.
ZOLTAN: I'll tell Dandelion to leave town. You did well, Geralt.
GERALT: Let's hope I don't regret it.
[Geralt goes to the Scoia'tael meeting point.]
GERALT: I'm here.
DWARF: Bout time! You all ready, no?
GERALT: What's the plan?
DWARF: We'll split into two groups. You strike from the harbor, we'll attack from the river.
GERALT: I thought dwarves couldn't swim.
DWARF: We've a boat. All right, form up, fall in and we'll split up on the cliffs.
[Geralt and his team scale the cliffs, fighting Loredo's men as they go. When they reach the top, they see a ship departing.]
GERALT: Roche...
DWARF: Where're they sailing?
GERALT: No idea.
DWARF: Least they'll not hinder us. Eanvedd'll guide you to the docks.
[Geralt's team looks out over the wharf where the prison barge is.]
ELF 1: What's with all the soldiers?
ELF 2: Did someone tip them off?
GERALT: We need to warn the others.
DWARF: Scoia'taeeeeeeeeeeel!
GERALT: Or not...
ELF 1: Onward.
[Geralt and his team fight through the guards to the boat.]
IORVETH: What is this? What are you doing here?
GERALT: What does it look like?
[Geralt unties Iorveth.]
IORVETH: Thank you, Geralt.
[From a building on the docks, holding an elf woman and a burning torch, Loredo shouts to the barge.]
LOREDO: I knew you'd partner with those hate mongers, mutant! Think yourself a hero, do you? Sail away and I'll burn these sluts alive!
IORVETH: We sail. Our women are prepared to die.
GERALT: But I'm not prepared to let murder happen. I'm going ashore.
IORVETH: Bloede dh'oine!
[Geralt makes a choice between saving the elf women or going after Loredo.]
[Geralt runs into the burning building and to the top.]
VILLAGER: Save the elven women, witcher.
VILLAGER 1: Commandant Loredo's gone mad.
VILLAGER 2: Burning them alive...?
VILLAGER 3: Plough it! The witcher's in the right.
[At the top of the tower, Geralt finds three bound elf women.]
GERALT: Where's Loredo?
ELF WOMAN: He's escaped.
IORVETH: Gwynbleidd!
IORVETH: Loredo's calling for reinforcements! We must sail.
GERALT: The tower's on fire. We have to jump.
ELF WOMAN: Unbind us!
[Geralt and the elven women jump out of the window into the water and swim to the barge.]
GERALT: Loredo escaped...
IORVETH: He'll not live long. If the local folk don't hunt him down, someone else will...It's meaningless. You rescued our women... We are indebted.
GERALT: Help me find the kingslayer and Triss. We'll be even.
IORVETH: In that case, to Vergen!
[Geralt chases the commandant to the gallows in the town square and slays him there before returning to the barge.]
IORVETH: Did you get him?
GERALT: Mhm. What happened here?
IORVETH: The people of Flotsam let you slay their commandant, but they refused to help our women. They stood and watched as our women burned alive...
GERALT: You could've returned to shore...
IORVETH: We jumped overboard but got there too late. Dandelion ran about, calling for help. Even tried to enter the tower, but he was badly burned.. While those human monsters stood and looked on in silence.
GERALT: How's Dandelion?
IORVETH: He's below deck. Ran out of the tower in flames and jumped in the river. We fished him out. Sooner or later, humans will kill off all the Aen Seidhe, all dwarves and gnomes. Then they'll start murdering one another. Your kind knows no other way, it's in your genes. You'll keep killing each other until only one remains, the strongest among you. A thousand years from now, a dim-witted human barbarian will climb to the top of a pile of bones, sit down, and proclaim, "I win!"
GERALT: Did Vernon Roche sail out of here all right?
IORVETH: He's fine, if that's what you ask. We met and chatted - imagine that. I wanted him to know that he was only leaving because I let him do so.
[Flashback to Iorveth and Roche's confrontation in the forest. The two circle each other, then engage in single combat.]
ROCHE: Finish what you started...
IORVETH: I shan't kill you, Roche. We Aen Seidhe never kill the last specimens of dying breeds. Live on and remember who defeated you, remember he can do so again. Va fail, Vernon Roche.
ROCHE: You're making a mistake, Iorveth. I will find you.
IORVETH: Defeated by a dh'oine. I must be getting old... What now?
ROCHE: Consider yourself lucky. Though you deserve torture, I lack the means, so I'll simply lop off your head. You'll die a warrior's death.
IORVETH: I don't regret a thing.
ROCHE: Impending death has addled your mind.
IORVETH: I don't regret that it's you. After so many years, it would be stupid to die from an accidental bolt in the eye or, worse yet, influenza...
ROCHE: Damn. Lucky again - your archers approach. I defeated you once, Iorveth, and I can do it again. Remember that.
IORVETH: We shall see about that, friend. We shall see...
GERALT: Let's go.
IORVETH: Prepare to set sail! Unfurl the mainsail!
GERALT: We made it.
IORVETH: This is just the beginning. But you chose the right side and I'm pleased.
GERALT: Wish I could be so sure...
[Continued in Chapter II (Iorveth).]
[Geralt and the Blue Stripes gather around for Roche's mission briefing.]
ROCHE: Listen very carefully - I'm not repeating this. We have two targets. The first is a Kaedweni spy - Arnolt Malliger. I want him alive.
ROCHE: The other is Bernard Loredo, the trading post's commander and a traitor to Temeria. We don't let his kind live.
ROCHE: Arnolt almost never leaves the residence, so we need to strike there. To get inside, we'll use Ves' unusual talents, and Bernard's habits.
GERALT: Stop calling him by his first name. It really rubs me the wrong way.
ROCHE: Whatever you wish.
ROCHE: Loredo's house - the first floor contains guest quarters. Geralt had the opportunity to take a look. Regular patrols. Second floor... Loredo's bodyguards' quarters. They think they're the toughest warriors this side of the Yaruga, but really they're lame drowners dressed in colorful gambesons.
ROCHE: Third floor, the lion's den. Here, Loredo stores plundered valuables. It's where he sleeps, shits and wanks off while staring at the statuette of a she-elf. Only the following are allowed to enter: Arnolt Malliger, Loredo's mother, his cousin and... whores.
VES: Ha. I'm not sure I still have that frock...
ROCHE: After making his round of the trading post, Loredo always orders two ladies. Ves will act as one of them. The house is a bloody fortress, but Loredo had it enlarged. The witcher will enter through the extension. Ves will open a window for you.
ROCHE: Once in you'll have to improvise, Geralt, but you'll have the element of surprise. Ves can hold her own too.
ROCHE: Zenin and Ryckard will provide cover from vantage points. If things get hot, lure those whoresons near the windows. I'll be in the courtyard with the rest, ready to enter in the extreme. I repeat, in the extreme.
ROCHE: That's all. Any questions? No? Let's get to work.
[Geralt can get into the compound one of two ways; either through the nekker cave or over a wall using a ladder the Stripes have set up.]
[Geralt climbs up the ladder at the end and drops down immediately into the storage compound where he found the kayran trap part. The sex worker Ves was partnered with is there alone.]
GERALT: Where's Ves?
HELEN: So that's her name. I knew she was no hooker. They've taken her to the tower.
GERALT: Great, thanks.
HELEN: Wait! The tower's locked. The soldiers upstairs guard the keys.
GERALT: Damn! I need to get in there.
HELEN: Loredo's mother also has keys.
GERALT: Where is she?
HELEN: In the basement, distilling fisstech.
GERALT: Take care.
HELEN: Kill the whoreson.
[Geralt goes to meet the Stripes behind Loredo's compound after dark.]
BLUE STRIPE: Your chariot awaits, fair youth. The good spirits of this tower will guide and protect you. Heh-heh.
[Geralt climbs the ladder and drops down on the other side into Loredo's back lot. The merchant spy Roche wants is looking around with a torch.]
ARNOLT: Where are you? Hiding? You like playing hide and seek? I'll find you.
ARNOLT: Naughty girl. Daddy will have to punish you...
ARNOLT: Come on, precious - you love it when I mount you.
ARNOLT: Ah, we're playing hide and seek now? Wait till I find you, little sparrow!
ARNOLT: You're getting on my nerves, skeezer. Show yourself right now!
[Geralt knocks him out, then makes his way into the storage compound where he found the kayran trap part. The sex worker Ves was partnered with is there by herself.]
HELEN: You're this new girl's friend?
GERALT: Where is she?
HELEN: The Commander took her to the tower. Hurry.
GERALT: How did you know?
HELEN: She was obviously not one of us - a hooker always knows a hooker. So I guessed something was gonna happen... Before they took her she whispered, "Window in the extension." When that bastard went to take a pee, I noticed you climbing over the wall.
GERALT: How do I get to Loredo?
HELEN: When he's having it off, he lets no one in. But his mother has keys.
HELEN: You must really love her, taking such risks...
GERALT: Ri-ight... Where's the mother?
HELEN: In the basement, distilling fisstech.
GERALT: Thanks. Now go. Climb over the wall and run. If a tall man dressed in blue stops you, tell him everything. Tell him his plan was ingeniously simple.
HELEN: Thank you. If you manage to enter the tower, kill the bastard, witcher. He should die slowly and painfully for all he did to us...
[After talking to Helen, Geralt climbs a scaffolding and leaps through one of the windows of Loredo's house. At the same time, a cutscene shows Loredo snorting fisstech in a different room with Ves strung up against the wall. Geralt sneaks through the halls and finds Marietta in her lab.]
MARIETTA: Oooooh! Who the hell are you? What do you want?
GERALT: The key to the upper quarters. I know you have it.
MARIETTA: You want to free the elven girl? Your efforts are in vain. Like in Ithlinne's prophecy - the seed has been planted and will soon sprout.
GERALT: Shut up and give me the key.
MARIETTA: Uh. The key, the key... Where did I put it...?
[She throws fisstech in Geralt's eyes and comes at him with a knife. He kills her. In the room above, Loredo gropes Ves. Geralt makes his way up to the tower where Loredo is. He can hear Loredo through the door.]
VES: Stay away.
LOREDO: You're dressed like a whore - behave like one. First I'll plough you, and then I'll slice off your tits. Does that strike your fancy?
VES: Cut off your own, whoreson.
LOREDO: I love it when bitches bark.
[Geralt enters the room.]
MORIL: It's a trap! Look out!
[Loredo lunges out with a halberd. Geralt dodges, then engages him.]
LOREDO: Tougher to kill a soldier than a bandit, eh?
GERALT: Yeah, you're tougher than your mother was. But you'll die just the same.
LOREDO: What?!!! You bastard!
LOREDO: Demavend should have killed all you freaks!
VES: Kill the son of a bitch!
VES: Make him die in pain!
VES: What now, Loredo? Balls shriveling?
[Geralt kills Loredo.]
VES: Quick, untie me.
VES: Geralt, we've no time to lose. She needs help. We need to get her out of here.
[Geralt unties Ves.]
VES: Thanks, Geralt. I heard something behind that door.
[In the next room, an elf woman is lying on a bed, arms wrapped around her stomach.]
MORIL: Don't leave me here, please...
VES: You don't look like a whore, elf.
MORIL: My name is Moril... what month is it?
VES: This is no time to chat. Can you walk?
MORIL: I'll not stay here any longer, even if I must crawl out.
VES: She won't make it through the garden, Geralt. We must leave by the front. Lead the way - we'll be right behind you.
MORIL: S-so what month is it?
VES: Lammas.
MORIL: Autumn's begun? When they kidnapped me... it was snowing.
VES: And the child's father is...?
MORIL: This child has only a mother. When I realized I was pregnant... I wanted to kill myself.
VES: Don't say that...
MORIL: I am Aen Seidhe.
[Geralt goes first as Ves helps Moril down the stairs. Halfway down, Moril stops.]
MORIL: I... I can't make it. I think I...
VES: Damn, her water broke. Geralt, change of plans!
GERALT: But...
VES: Back to the tower. I need a clean bed, hot water and some time. We can't be disturbed... Go get help.
[Geralt heads down to clear the way of guards and joins the fight in the courtyard. As the last of Loredo's men fall, Roche arrives.]
ROCHE: Geralt! I see we're in time.
GERALT: Where have you been, Roche?
ROCHE: A little problem along the way.
[Flashback to Iorveth and Roche's confrontation in the forest. The two circle each other, then engage in single combat.]
ROCHE: Finish what you started...
IORVETH: I shan't kill you, Roche. We Aen Seidhe never kill the last specimens of dying breeds. Live on and remember who defeated you, remember he can do so again. Va fail, Vernon Roche.
ROCHE: You're making a mistake, Iorveth. I will find you.
IORVETH: Defeated by a dh'oine. I must be getting old... What now?
ROCHE: Consider yourself lucky. Though you deserve torture, I lack the means, so I'll simply lop off your head. You'll die a warrior's death.
IORVETH: I don't regret a thing.
ROCHE: Impending death has addled your mind.
IORVETH: I don't regret that it's you. After so many years, it would be stupid to die from an accidental bolt in the eye or, worse yet, influenza...
ROCHE: Damn. Lucky again - your archers approach. I defeated you once, Iorveth, and I can do it again. Remember that.
IORVETH: We shall see about that, friend. We shall see...
ROCHE: The whoreson ran away, but I'm sure he'll show up again.
BLUE STRIPE: Bloody nonhumans.
ROCHE: Enough of Iorveth. What's with Loredo and where's Ves?
GERALT: Loredo's dead. I saved Ves, barely.
ROCHE: What happened?
GERALT: Your plan was hardly the most...
[Ves interrupts them by running out onto the balcony, holding a baby.]
VES: A boy, Geralt. A healthy boy.
ROCHE: What the...? Whose child is that?
GERALT: Moril's.
ROCHE: Whose?
GERALT: We found an elf woman Loredo kidnapped almost a year ago. He was the father.
BLUE STRIPE: [spits] I'd never touch a she-elf.
[Geralt hits the man.]
ROCHE: Enough! We don't have time for that! The ship's waiting.
[They hear a cry and run up after Ves, who is crouched over Moril's body, cradling the elf's slit wrists.]
VES: Why did you do it? Why?
[A commando attempts to lay a hand on Ves to comfort her.]
VES: Don't touch me!
BLUE STRIPE: I hate this town.
ROCHE: Prepare the boat. We sail immediately.
BLUE STRIPE: What about the kid?
ROCHE: It's not coming with us. And who in this hellhole will take in a half-breed?
GERALT: Seherim. Take it to Seherim in Lobinden. And make sure to tell him it's Moril's child.
[Over the railing of Roche's departing boat, Geralt and Roche wave to Seherim, who has Moril's child cradled in his arms.
[Continued in Chapter II (Roche).]