THE WITCHER'S CHOICE

Part 13: BROKEN ILLUSION

PART 13

Geralt sighed and nudged Roach with his heels, prompting it to advance through the ruins. This was not what he had expected. He passed under a broken arcade that led to an unhinged gate. Inside, there was a derelict yard with an old fountain he barely recognized under the overgrown moss. The beautiful gardens were nothing but a bunch of weeds and the columns that supported the galleries of the palace were dilapidated. Geralt dismounted and entered the chamber where not long ago, Laurel had brought him to his knees while calmly applying her makup. The room was abandoned and neglected. The glass of the windows was shattered, the furniture old and worm-eaten.

Geralt turned abruptly and unsheathed his sword when he heard soft footsteps behind him. It was an old man in tattered clothes.

"Hello, Geralt," greeted him the man.

"Paul?" frowned the witcher, barely recognizing him. "What happened here?"

"She is gone," he said, simply, "And with her is also gone all the beauty she had brought to this place."

"So I was right, everything was an illusion, including the inaccessibility of this place," concluded Geralt, putting his sword away.

Paul nodded.

"She knew you would come after her when you discovered her lies. She took the risk of sending you to Talgar when you were not yet ready."

"You mean when I was not brainwashed enough," retorted Geralt.

"You were too smart for her," Paul smiled.

"Why didn't she just put a spell on me to force my will?"

"She wouldn't have been able to sustain it with you so far away," explained Paul, "and your mother would have broken it the moment she perceived it."

"What was it all about? Why did she want Visenna?"

"You are also smart enough to know that," answered Paul.

"She thought Visenna was the key to undo her own sterility?"

"Quite close, but not on the mark."

"Tell me."

Paul sighed.

"Are you sure you want to know? Once you hear of it, I'm not sure you will be able to maintain your philosophical position, your political neutrality," he warned him.

"Tell me," repeated the witcher.

"Very well," the other sighed again. "Nilfgaard is preparing for a war, a brutal war, a war of total annihilation. For that, they need not only soldiers but also sorcerers, powerful ones. They have neither the time nor the patience to find kids with abilities and train them, hoping that they will turn into the kinds of sorcerers they need. It is easier to breed them."

"Breed them?" frowned Geralt.

"Train directly the children that have inherited their powers from their parents, Geralt."

The witcher remained in silence.

"For that, they need sorceresses capable of bearing children. Your mother holds the key to that."

"Laurel is working for Nilfgaard?"

"Yes. It was all planned in coordination with the emperor: the raid on that remote village in Talgar and your later arrival as a rescuer."

So I was one of them, one of the Black Ones, though unknowingly, thought Geralt, Patrick was right.

"Why send me? Why didn't the soldiers take her directly?" enquired the witcher.

"Visenna would have killed herself before letting them take her, especially because she would be forced to give out her other child, which the emperor was very keen in getting his hands on. You were the only one that she would trust, the only one capable of bringing them both alive."

"What other child?" scowled the witcher, disconcerted.

"Your sister, Elyn," answered Paul.

Elyn... She was... The witcher lowered his head, pensive.

"Did you meet her?" asked Paul.

"What?"

"Did you meet Elyn in Talgar?"

"No," lied the witcher, "she was not there. She was long gone."

"Visenna knew that your presence was a trap, didn't she?"

"Yes, she suspected," admitted Geralt. "She wouldn't have come with me even if she didn't have doubts about my reasons to be there. Laurel's plan was doomed from the start. Visenna wants nothing with me, she never did."

"I'm sorry, Geralt," said Paul with compassion. "It must be tough to be an unwanted child."

"I am a witcher, I don't have such concerns," said Geralt, but his sad face belied his words. "What about you?" he asked to change the subject of his mother.

"What about me?" shrugged Paul.

"Why are you still here, in these ruins? Why didn't you go with her?"

"I was the son of a farmer, you know? An ordinary stable boy," started Paul, going to the window and staring at the mountains through the broken glass. "She was so beautiful, Geralt... Imagine what it was for me to have the attention of such a woman. She made me her consort in the early days, made me feel special. Then she got tired of me and discarded me to try other men, but I was in love with her and couldn't leave her. She took pity on me and made me her servant. I was content with the possibility to be near her, to see her daily, even when I was not allowed to touch her any more. I saw her cruelty, her disdain, her manipulations, but I didn't care. But what she did to you... to throw you in that dirty dungeon to rot for months, being beaten daily and abused, and then bring you here, to force gratitude and undying loyalty from you with false pretences... And yet, you weren't grateful, you didn't fall at her feet, you didn't even let her entice you to her bed. I started to respect you, Geralt, you were a strong man, loyal only to his principles, to his witcher code. I wish I had been as strong as you."

"I was not strong," confessed the witcher. "I would have eventually shared her bed, Paul, no matter what she did. I knew it from the first moment I saw her. You think of me as some kind of honourable white knight, but I'm not."

"Oh, but you are, Geralt, more honourable and true that all the knights I've known in my entire life. It was you that snapped me out of this state of servitude to an ungrateful witch. She was not pleased when I told her of my decision to leave her. She punished me by undoing the spell that kept me young and abandoning me in these ruins."

"I'm sorry," said Geralt.

"Don't be. I don't regret it. The only thing I feel remorse about is concealing the truth from you. I wasn't strong enough to defy her orders. I'm sorry I deceived you."

"Apology accepted," proffered a hand Geralt. Paul shook it with a relieved smile.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Paul. "Are you going to go after her, to Nilfgaard?"

"No," shook his head the witcher. "It is not worth it. I don't care for revenge and I have the answers I was looking for."

"Geralt..."

"Yes?"

"Whatever you do, do not try to find your mother or your sister. There are a lot of eyes on you, your every movement is being watched. If you find them, you will be delivering them unknowingly to Nilfgaard," advised Paul.

"I know," nodded the witcher.

"Farewell, Sir Geralt of Rivia, and good luck," said Paul.

"Goodbye, Paul, and good luck to you too," answered Geralt sincerely.

THE END

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