The Divine Hunter

11th of Saovine, year 1261. Dawn.

An unexpected downpour pelted the city. The winds were howling, and silver strands of rain fell from the sky, covering the city. Two silhouettes in black cloaks were moving down the puddle-filled street.

On a closer look, the raindrops that fell on the silhouettes were deflected by an invisible barrier. A yellow light swirled around them. The silhouettes were traveling in the rain, but strangely enough, they didn’t get wet.

Ten minutes later, these silhouettes arrived in the northern part of the city. They came face to face with a solemn courtyard.

A guard in brigandine armor armed with a sword was hiding from the rain under the eaves of the door. He extended his arm and stopped the silhouettes. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

The figure pulled his hood back, revealing a young, handsome face beneath. His eyes were golden. “I’m Roy from the Viper School, and this is Letho. We made an arrangement with the butler at Rosemary and Thyme yesterday. We’re here for a visit.”

The guard took the card from Roy and squinted at the witchers for a while. He searched them and confirmed that they were not carrying any lethal weapons or dangerous objects before knocking on the door.

Two fully armed guards pulled the door open and waved at the witchers, then they led their guests into the manor.

Roy took a few glances out of the corner of his eye. The walls are sturdy. And looming. There’s a few crossbowmen in raincoats standing sentry in the turrets.

Roy looked ahead and cast Observe. There were a lot of flowers in the yard, and it was also packed with armed men in… bizarre outfits. They were all in brigandine and chain mail. Some wore nothing to cover their chest and legs. And they had towels on their heads. They were all armed with weapons like swords, short swords, and one-handed axes.

These men were skilled, well-trained soldiers. Their combat stats were a lot higher than most people’s, and they had weapon mastery skills.

Roy made a rough head count. There were about two dozen of these men patrolling the left, right, and center buildings. They were all hiding under the eaves, taking shelter from the rain. These men were not happy to see the witchers. Roy could feel the animosity in their eyes. Probably because of what Auckes and Serrit did.

Still, Roy was surprised at how heavily guarded this place was. It almost resembled a heavy-security prison. “Wiley sure is cautious.”

But I can understand why. Alonso was one of the biggest rulers of the world’s most bustling city. He had a lot of questionable businesses under him. There was a huge network at work here, and a lot of people’s livelihoods depended on him. Still, more people out there would want him dead so they could replace him. He had to be on guard all the time and keep himself safe, even when he was in his own home.

Aside from the framed poetry, there were a lot of other things around. They traveled down the spiral staircase and came to a corridor. There were also fully-armed guards around, and expensive artwork stood along the place. Roy saw luxurious armor hanging from a wooden rack and rare books in the glass cabinet. Alonso was really rich if he could afford all of this.

***

The butler led them to the rightmost office and told the servant to light the fireplace up and make two cups of hot tea. He then took a seat behind the desk. “Let’s get to the meat of the conversation, witchers. I’ll tell you the details of the matches as well as the top fighters working for Cleaver, The Collector, and the King of Beggars. Their strengths, weaknesses, anything, you name it.” Bogut said, “This is necessary for a perfect match.”

“A minute, please.” Roy and Letho exchanged a look and retorted as planned, “Mr. Bogut, I have a suggestion concerning the request.”

“Is that so?” Bogut’s face fell. He pushed down on the table and leaned ahead in an attempt to look more intimidating. “Tell me about it. If it’s reasonable, I can agree to it in place of Master Alonso.”

“Sorry, but this is incredibly personal. I can’t tell it to just anyone.” Roy pursed his lips and put on a sheepish look. “I need to talk to Alonso personally. That’s the least bit of respect I request. If you can’t give me that much respect, then the deal is off.”

Bogut leaned back into his chair and rubbed his chin. He mused over it. “I’ll have to ask Master Alonso about it. And in the case that he agrees…” He looked at Letho. “You alone can see him. Letho must stay back.”

A young and unarmed witcher can’t do anything when he’s surrounded by our elite.

Roy agreed readily and left the center building a moment later. They went into the left building and made their way to the third floor.

As they went up the spiral staircase, Roy could vaguely hear the sound of ragged breathing and the screams of a woman coming from a room on the second floor. When he came to the study on the third floor, the screams became weak howls. Is someone getting tortured downstairs? He frowned.

“Sorry you had to hear that, witcher.” Bogut noticed the change in his expression. “Master Cyprian is at an unruly age. He can be playful. Pay him no heed.”

He opened the door. What greeted Roy was a beautiful room lit by dim yellow light. A man was sitting on a chair in the center of the room, his back turned to the witcher. There were five soldiers and a sorcerer beside him.

***

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