PART 3
The next morning, when Geralt woke up, he grimaced at seeing Paul standing by the bed.
"Good morning," Paul greeted him politely.
"How long have you been there?" asked Geralt. "No, forget that. Why are you there?" he corrected himself.
"I was appointed to be your personal assistant," answered Paul.
"I don't need a personal assistant, so get lost," replied Geralt rudely.
"I'm here to provide you with whatever you need," said Paul, ignoring Geralt's lack of enthusiasm with his presence.
"I don't think you can provide me with what I need, so fuck off."
Geralt's bad mood had nothing to do with Paul, he just didn't like feeling trapped, no matter if he was imprisoned in a dungeon or in a magnificent paradise like that palace.
"Try me," challenged him Paul.
"All right," accepted Geralt, looking for his trousers. "Tell me how to get out of this place."
"Your bedroom?"
"The palace."
"Why would you want to leave? Aren't you enjoying yourself? Because if you are not, I can help you find..."
"My trousers," interrupted the witcher abruptly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"My trousers. Where the hell are they?"
Paul looked around and found a pile of clothes neatly folded on a chair.
"This?" he handed the clothes to Geralt.
The witcher took the bundle and discovered that it consisted of a pair of fresh pants and a shirt which was also new. Did Laurel expect to conquer his will with food, wine and new clothes every day? Well, if she did, he had no intentions to discourage her for the time being. Not that she had any chance of buying him with that or any other gift she showered him with.
"Is there anything else you need?" asked Paul.
Geralt was about to send him packing but stopped himself. Maybe the subservient Paul could be useful in some way.
"I want a tour of the palace," said Geralt.
"Oh! Marvellous! I'll be pleased to show you the place. You'll love it!" applauded Paul enthusiastically.
"Mhm," was the unexcited response of the witcher while he got dressed.
"Let's start with the gardens," proposed Paul, advancing along one of the galleries and followed by a reluctant Geralt.
"I'd like to see the whole thing," said the witcher.
"Of course, of course, we will," assured Paul.
"No, I'd like to go to a high place and see the whole thing, the palace and the surroundings," clarified Geralt.
"For that, we would need to go up the East Tower," replied the other.
"Let's go, then," smiled Geralt wryly.
"Are you sure you are up to it?"
"Of course. Can't you see? I'm not even using that cursed cane anymore."
"Right, well, as you wish, but I must warn you: the stairs are quite steep."
"I'll be fine."
The stone stairs were steeper than Geralt had expected and he had to stop several times to catch his breath. He was not as completely recovered as he wanted Paul to believe. His knees ached terribly and even his normally slow heartbeat seemed somewhat more accelerated than what was healthy for a witcher.
"I knew it. I shouldn't have allowed you to climb these stairs in your condition," said Paul worriedly when Geralt stopped for the third time. "Lady Laurel will kill me if she finds out I have let you strain yourself like this."
"Lady Laurel need not find out," said Geralt. "Go on, Paul. I'll follow in a minute," he panted, grabbing the wall to steady himself.
Paul shook his head, but continued up. The witcher caught up with him ten minutes later in the circular platform of the tower, surrounded by massive battlements. A cold breeze blew his white hair. Geralt welcomed it, he had been caged up for too long and this freezing wind made him feel alive again. He discovered with satisfaction that Paul had not lied to him: the East Tower was really the highest place in the palace and the view was spectacular, although quite a bit worrying. The palace was set in the remotest place possible: a range of mountains that appeared to have no end. They were really high, so high that perennial snows were practically at the same level of the tower. In the lower valleys, an unending pine forest extended its domain up to where the eye could see, and the witcher's eyes could see a great distance. There was no sign of civilization anywhere.
"Are there any magical protections or barriers?" asked the witcher. "Is it possible to leave the palace just by walking out of here?"
"There are no barriers," answered Paul, "but I understand the nearest village is more than two thousand miles away. Going out there is just plain suicide."
"Mhm," grimaced Geralt.
"The only way in and out of this place is through a portal, and the only one capable of conjuring one is..."
"Lady Laurel," completed Geralt. "I guessed as much."
"You are not a prisoner here, Geralt," Paul tried to comfort him.
"Of course I am," he replied coldly.
YOU ARE READING
THE WITCHER'S CHOICE
FanfictionThe Brotherhood thought he was dead, but she found him. However, getting him to agree to the mission she had for him was another matter entirely... This story portrays Sapkowski's Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. The events occur after he met Yennefer but...
