Kyana Of Cintra

5

Maester Stregobor continued in his sentence. "So, to honor him, I've taken his name as my personal sobriquet." Kyana didn't believe him. He wanted the glory that came from that name, not a sobriquet.

"Yes? And did he create this illusion too?" Kyana asked, pointing to the women and the wildlife. Stregobor was embarrassed, stumbling over his words.

"No, this is, uh this is my own creation. Helps pass time more... delightfully." Kyana scrunched up her nose, repulsed by his logic. This man was disgusting.

"Because you're in hiding, Stregobor." Geralt stated bluntly. The Maester didn't know what to say for a short time. He looked towards Kyana, half to continue to gawk at her, half expecting her to contradict Geralt. 

"How very clever of you, Witcher." He moved aside, gesturing for both of them to walk with him. Although Kyana didn't want to, she did for the coin. "Not often do we see your likeness here in Blaviken." He said as they walked.

Geralt nodded. "Not many of my likeness left." He confessed bluntly. Stregobor lifted an eyebrow in surprise at his honesty. They rounded a corner before Stregobor started again.

"I'd offer you my condolences, but I seem to remember that Witchers don't feel anything." If Kyana could glare any harder, she would have. A common mistake was to believe that Witchers had no feelings. They felt pain, sorrow, embarrassment, happiness, anger, sometimes even love, but only if you were lucky. "I'm grateful destiny brought you to me."

"Marilka brought us to you." Kyana corrected. She didn't believe in destiny, and she wasn't going to start now. They turned into an opening with sunlight streaming through. It glowed into both Geralt's and Kyana's eyes, reflecting from them and brightening the colours.

"Oh, Marilka. Marilka works for me." Stregobor paused. "Now and then. On matters of great import." He said, looking directly at Kyana as he spoke.

"A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher and end up with two. You don't want our monsters. You want us to kill yours." Geralt stated. Stregobor looked impressed at Geralt's words. He had clearly underestimated his intellectual capacity.

"Very clever. Indeed." Stregobor nodded, observing how nonchalant the Witchers were as they looked at him. He realized that they had seen this all a hundred times before. One monster wouldn't scare them.

"What kind?" Kyana asked softly, keen for a new job.

"The worst kind. The human kind." Kyana tilted her head, while Geralt raised his eyebrows. He had been asked to assassinate people before, but not this blatantly. "Its name is Renfri." Stregobor walked away and waited for them to follow. Shock worked it's way through both of their minds, although their faces didn't show it. Renfri was a monster? But she saved them a fight, gave them food and drink, shared civilized conversation. Kyana sighed, torn between coin and a life. She didn't want to kill her. Renfri was a nice person.

Reluctantly, Kyana and Geralt followed. They had to at least hear what he would say. Stregobor and Geralt sat on the stone bench next to the fountain, while Kyana sat pleasantly on the border of the fountain, her hands dancing mesmerizingly across the water. "Destiny has many faces, Witchers. Mine, for example, is beautiful on the outside, but hideous on the inside." Stregobor held up an apple to show them. "She has stretched her bloody talons towards me."

"Wizards are all the same. You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces. Speak normally." Geralt commanded Stregobor. Kyana had to hold back a smile as Stregobor's face dropped, and so did the illusion of the apple.

"Have you ever heard of the Curse of the Black Sun? First full eclipse in 1,200 years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by 60 women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood" Stregobor explained ominously and slowly. Kyana hummed impatiently.

"Of course, every baby born under a celestial phenomenon is cursed. Would you say they were cursed if I told you that children were being born under the pull of tides?" Stregobor's face pulled into a deep frown, reading too much into Kyana's statement.

"Well yes, of course. Any child born under this 'pull of tides' is clearly connected to an unholy energy and must be terminated." Kyana rose an eyebrow ironically, aware she had just caught him out.

"Well then I pity every child that was born under the light of the moon." Stregobor glared at her, having fallen into ridicule. "A celestial activity is just that. Unless you can give me a real reason why you want a person dead, I don't believe I'll kill someone for you." Geralt watched how confidently Kyana spoke. She was always so sure of herself, willing for her assured personality to drip into her words. Her self assurance oozed out of every thought out and sarcastic statement she would make. She wasn't rude, unkind, or arrogant, but truthful, intelligent and secure in herself.

"Besides, it doesn't rhyme. All good predictions rhyme." Geralt chimed in. Stregobor looked back and forth between the two Witchers, unsure of what to say or do. Finally, he strung a sentence together.

"I studied the girls born around the black sun, and I found horrendous internal mutations among them. I tried to cure them, locked them in towers for safekeeping, but the girls always died." He said truthfully. Kyana's frown deepened at the thought of cruelly locking innocent girls away in towers Geralt's curiosity lingered elsewhere.

"Internal mutations?" He pointed out. His face painted a thousand pictures. The man in front of him cut women up for experimental purposes. If he thought it a good idea to butcher innocent young women, would it really be such a stretch to think he had intentionally killed most? 

"They were autopsied, of course, to confirm my suspicions. But eliminating these women was the lesser evil. They could've drowned entire kingdoms in blood. If you'd been alive during Falka's Rebellion, seen what I saw-" Kyana cut him off before he could finish his awful sentence.

"Innocent women are dead." Kyana's temper was slightly escaping her, rage seeping into her face. "You speak of monsters when you butchered 59 young women for being born. You 'suspected' internal mutations, then they conveniently died to miraculously aid you in your research. So many young women's lives you have ruined." Kyana snarled, angry beyond words. 

"But not Renfri, the beautiful one." Stregobor attempted to justify himself. Geralt scoffed and joined Kyana, who has stood from her seat. 

"Her beauty counts for nought. She is still a young woman, a life. I've no doubt why she's after you." Geralt pointed out harshly, forming very explicit opinions of Stregobor in his head. Stregobor started to walk around the fountain as he replied, intend on standing close to them.

"Daughter of King Fredefalk of Creyden. I delivered the princess myself in the middle of the afternoon in pitch black." Geralt rolled his eyes at Stregobor's dramatics.

"Under the Black Sun, so she's cursed." Geralt said with a slight bit of sarcastic humor that only Kyana noticed. He swing his arms to his sides, unsure of what to believe. Stregobor continued on his enraged telling of the story, effectively losing his patience.