The Fire of Malice || The Witcher

Chapter One

Author's Note: So I've been wanting to do something with Triss for a while now, but it took me forever to think of a suitable story for it. So I sort of went with a complete reimagining of how the whole Triss/Geralt questline went in The Witcher 3. There are some SPOILERS at the end of how the main game ends, so here's your warning if you haven't played it yet. Also, I'm going to be posting a chapter a week (usually on Mondays). As always, enjoy! :)

Prologue

"Sir, we have a lead."

Roth turned from his desk toward the door, eager to hear the news. "What is it?"

"One of our informants in Oxenfurt told us that she met with a witcher. They didn't know where she went, but the witcher has since left the city. He heads toward Novigrad."

"Good. Gather the men, tell them we move tonight. And that we need him alive."

The man nodded and left.

Finally, a break. It had been almost a month since his demotion. Years he had spent clawing his way up to the top only to come crashing down because of some stupid girl. How was he to explain that she had simply disappeared on Temple Isle? He was put on lowly patrol duty after that with a small retinue of men. He made quick work of recruiting more under the very noses of his superiors, paying for the large crew by staging raids and confiscating "suspicious goods" from merchants.

His superiors were fools. Religious zealots the lot of them. He had no problem hunting witches, but then, he simply liked to hunt. Witches were just a convenient outlet. And unlike the idiots in charge, he wasn't opposed to using magic to his own benefit. He had learned a long time ago that magic was extremely useful. Whatever it took to get back on top, he would do it. And then he would show them all what he was really capable of. They wouldn't know what hit them.

It all started with this witcher.

He would make quick work of him.

Chapter One

Oxenfurt loomed over the horizon as Geralt crested a low hill. Tapered turrets jutted past tiled rooftops, stone walls were bleached out by the blazing sun. Ribbons of smoke rose from a multitude of chimneys scattered across the city. In the river, boats milled lazily, occasionally hauling in a catch to the algae-covered docks. The bustling city thrived, unaware of Geralt's plight, of greater forces at play.

He needed to find Triss. The sooner the better. He had already wasted so much time running into dead end after dead end in his quest to find Ciri. Now he had a useless phylactery that needed repairing. Hopefully Triss would know what to do, or at least someone who could help. Unfortunately, she had gone into hiding. The only reason Geralt knew she was in Oxenfurt was because the King of Beggars had told him so. Apparently he and Triss were acquaintances.

Geralt trudged across the bridge into Oxenfurt. Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure how he was going to flush her out. Knowing Triss, she probably had a constant ear out for anything suspicious in the city, lest she need to flee. Geralt could certainly make himself qualify.

He headed for the nearest tavern. It was a little after noon and he hadn't eaten. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Along the way, Geralt made sure to stop as many people as possible, asking them if they knew of any witcher contracts in the area. Let the word spread far and wide.

A rundown tavern appeared just ahead of Geralt. It was as good a place as any. Having just ordered a midday meal and a mug of ale, Geralt sat himself at a table in the middle of the tavern. He drained the cup in one shot and immediately called for another. As time passed, he made a show of becoming more and more drunk, blathering on to the room at large about his many accomplishments. Hushed whispers met his ears, some in awe, some in disdain. He didn't really care either way, as long as he made an impact.