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Caira found Geralt sitting outside the castle walls amongst the snow, his hair blending in with the white backdrop. "What a shame; the king will let his pride take over at the cost of his people." Caira sighed, plopping herself down on the snowy ground next to the Witcher. "Are we going to kill her, or not?"
Geralt's yellow eyes fluttered up to meet Caira's eyes. His brows tilted upward in a shy way. "I don't want the miner's coin." He informed her, causing her to groan.
"Then why am I here? I need to make money, not frolic about with you. Why do you care about this girl so much?" Caira shook her head at him, disappointed he wasn't planning on accepting any reward for saving the striga.
"We'll make coin on the next bounty." Geralt's deep and rumbling voice had a way of making Caira meek.
"And we're splitting it fifty, fifty." "What?! No." "Yes!" "No."
"I have to have some kind of compensation for this past week and a half of making no profits. You owe me, I could've completed at least three kills by now if it weren't for you." Caira folded her arms across her chest.
Geralt look away from her. She grabbed his face with her hands and turned his head so he'd look at her again. "Fifty. Fifty." She reiterated, then released her grip on his jaw. Geralt sniffed, mumbling obscenities. He couldn't believe she'd demand such a thing, a deal was a deal—no matter how long it took to complete it.
* * *
Geralt and Caira found Triss once again and stalked into the secret chambers of Foltest's castle. Around the halls, deteriorated skeletons were scattered about. The corpses of dozens of the striga's foes seemed to be on display in the hall. "Temeria reeks of secrets. I could sense them. Just like I could these bodies before we entered. I imagine you sense them, too." Triss asked Geralt, due to the fact that he had enhanced abilities like her. As the three passed through the hall, Geralt and Caira took turns attempting to open doors lining the hall. Though, they were all locked.
They passed by an enormous portrait of Foltest and Adda—the dead princess and mother to the Striga—in the abandoned hall. It was dusty and clearly old, as the image portrayed a young Foltest and Adda. "Foltest and Adda. What happened to them?" Triss sighed as she sadly gazed upon the painting. The two looked so innocent, so pure. Their blonde hair and striking blue eyes glimmered beneath the faded painting. Caira assumed Triss was still speaking with Geralt, so she didn't respond—also she had no clue what happened to the two, what had gone wrong with them. Only that Foltest had fucked his sister and the striga was his heir.
"Not answering questions is a pillar of your brooding charm." Triss scoffed at Geralt whom was giving minimum effort in conversation with Triss. Geralt was taken aback by her comment and eyed her with his brows furrowed. He suddenly turned his head away from her and continued walking through the halls, following in Caira's lead as she shook door knobs to try to open the secretive rooms. "Pretty sure Foltest is the father." Geralt spoke as he walked up next to Caira, taking a turn trying to wiggle open the locked door.
