The Divine Hunter

It was a sleepy winter afternoon in Gildorf, the land of the wealthy in Novigrad. Gildorf was decked out with every kind of amenity and resplendent house, making it one of the best districts in the city after the business district.

Gorgon Inn stood beside the rowdy marketplace, and there were three groups of people standing silently in a triangle formation. On one side stood a group of dwarves equipped with warhammers and axes. Standing in the lead was a proud dwarf with a Mohican hairstyle and a butcher knife hanging around his belt—Cleaver. Standing beside him was a bald man in a hooded cape.

The two of them seemed to be allies, and the bald man was fiddling with the gold ring hanging on his index finger as he stared at the opposition in silence.

Before him sat three burly, powerful witchers and a man in a long, purple robe. “Francis, Bedlam, thank you for joining us in these uncertain times.”

“What do you want, Orloff Byrd?” Cleaver spat. “Spit it out. I don’t have time to waste on people I don’t like.”

Auckes and Serrit were surprised. Cleaver’s attitude underwent a drastic change compared to the last time they met. At the very least, he was still polite back in the underground ring, though only on the surface. This time, however, they could almost feel his enmity overflow.

Bedlam looked around him. The unkempt beggars hiding under the bridge, the alleyway entrance, and some quiet corner looked back at him. Even the gentle king of the Putrid Grove was starting to lash out at the witchers, unlike his usual self. “I know Cleaver’s temper leaves a lot to be desired, but at least he’s no hypocrite. The Collector, witchers, I have a question. Are you as genuine as Cleaver here can be? Or is the ballroom nothing but a mask for your true intentions?”

“I don’t think I’ve crossed either of you, have I?” The Collector was confused. “And the witchers didn’t break the treaty either. Why do you take such a hostile stance against us? There must be some misunderstanding we can settle.”

“You know what you did.” Cleaver pinched his beard and scoffed at the witchers. “I am no saint, but I don’t kill innocents however I like. I have a creed I would never break. There are some things you should never do. If any of my men tried to dabble in forbidden dealings, I would have chopped them up and fed them to the dogs.”

Bedlam shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “I am no saint either, but I am no animal. There are things I mustn’t do, or I will wind up in hell when I die.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Letho rubbed the top of his head again. “We’ve done nothing but run the orphanage and take in homeless children. Is that what this is? Is this about the orphanage?”

“So you confess!” Cleaver snorted.

“Let’s get back on topic. How far along have you gone in your experiment?” Bedlam asked. “How many children are left? How many are alive?”

“They’re all alive.” Serrit raised his head up, a smile hanging on his lips. He wasn’t even mad at the question. All he did was brush it off.

“Don’t bullshit me.” Bedlam arched his eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s not bullshit. The little tykes are alive and well,” Auckes retorted. “And they’re doing a lot better than the kids working under you, the orphans the church took in, or the kids sold to Skellige.”

Bedlam froze as well.

“I don’t think you’ll believe us with no proof.” Letho suggested, “Rather than coming up with preposterous, uncorroborated crimes for us, why don’t you pay a visit to the orphanage yourself? Ask the children if the perverted witchers and Orloff have tortured them in the least. Or if we’ve experimented on them.”

“Fat chance.” Cleaver shook his head. “You just want to lure us into a trap so you can take us all out.”

“You may bring a few more associates if that will make you feel more secure,” Orloff suggested. “We don’t mind. Oh, don’t tell me the gang lords of Novigrad are scared of a small group of witchers?”

“As if! If you pull any tricks, I’ll drag you down if that’s the last thing I do!”

***

At the same time, a young boy was standing outside the Eternal Fire’s headquarters on the Temple Island. He looked around and, when the priestess in white wasn’t looking, slipped a letter into the donations box. He then bowed at the Eternal Fire and made his departure as if he hadn’t done anything.

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