heartless, cold // geralt

o1.

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     There was commotion in the town square.

     Much like the first time Geralt arrived in Flotsam, merchants and townspeople were flocking in crowds through the streets. Leaving their carts of wares, running from the stables to see the disruption that demanded their attention, they nearly ran each other down. Even the workers on the dock stood behind their incoming shipments, peering over the wooden crates in front of them for a chance to see a glimpse of all the fuss. Dandelion was shoved out of the way, much to his annoyance, and he scoffed before patting the sleeve of his doublet.

     "What do you reckon that's all about?" The bard asked, avoiding the eyes of the ferryman as they hurried down the docks. They had no money—which was the reason for the trip—and the last thing Dandelion wanted to do was miss out on all the fun because he was unable to pay the toll.

     Geralt glanced at him lazily, raising a single eyebrow. He rolled his eyes when his friend returned the look. "Take a guess."

     Dandelion narrowed his eyes and snorted, waving away the Witcher's suggestion as they merged into the crowd and allowed it to take them. They rushed through the non-human district, but even the dwarves were abandoning their posts to take place in the excitement. As they passed through the last gate that led into the center of town, the long hanging nooses confirmed Geralt's suspicions. A gallows stood sturdy in the center, across from the inn and a scattering of other merchant shops, and four citizens stood shamefully for all to see.

     The crowd around them had gathered to a near staggering amount. Geralt and the bard took a place near the end of the group, not much interested in the events themselves, but they doubted the innkeeper would be inside his business with all the activity. Geralt gave Dandelion an amused look, his eyebrow raised once again, and the bard snorted.

     He had to shout to be heard over the crowd. "I should have never agreed to come with you here, Geralt."

     "I never invited you."

     "I mean, really, it seems to me that hangings are all this town thrives on! It's rather macabre and I-stop giving me that look, would you? I've told you that it was an accident time and time again."

     "Mhmm, as you told the commandant. And the guards in the watchtower. And the guards that were intended to be around the watchtower."

     "Well, I'd like you to go and find Malena, pay for a night with her and then-"

     "I've no interest in spending a night with Ma-"

     "-tell me you would be watching the torch on the wall." Dandelion huffed, crossing his arms over his chest before looking away from the Witcher. He was embarrassed, of course, that the last time he had met his friend in Flotsam, it had been by divine intervention that Geralt had saved him from certain death by hanging. The frenzy taking place annoyed him. "Of course this would happen as we arrive."

     "Why were you at the watchtower in the first place?"

     Dandelion grumbled, not wanting to really recall the story, but when he didn't get the urge to continue from Geralt, he did it anyway. "Her cousin, she told me, he's a guard and she knows he's always asleep on his shift."

     "She works in a brothel, Dandelion. Why not just use the room you paid for?"

     "Because I didn't pay for it, that was the point. If the innkeeper knew she was off with me without buying the room, we'd have been hanged, but not in public like this."

     Geralt shook his head and they both dodged townspeople joining the crowd. "Better hope the Commandant doesn't see you."

     "Yes, Geralt, I'm sure that by sticking by your side, hiding will be easy." Dandelion snorted again, although he did step on his tiptoes to peer around for the aforementioned Loredo.

     "I never invited you, Dandelion, you weren't forced to accompany me here."

     "To a trading city on the border of Aedirn and Temeria? Where I'm most likely to make money? Pssh, when I make 300 orens tonight, tell me again how you didn't want me to come with you."

     "Gladly," Geralt mumbled.

     In the meanwhile, as the two friends bickered like an elderly couple, the townspeople at the front took their turns cheering for the demise of the soon-to-be hanged men. They threw rotten tomatoes, small rocks they found in alleys, the dirt that had turned to mud under their stampeding feet. There was one in particular, however, they really tore into.

     "Oh go ahead," Lysandra shouted back at them, rolling her eyes boorishly. "I hope the nekkers come for your little ones tonight!"

     "She curses us!"

     "Hang the bitch!"

     "Shut her up already!"

     "I bet you do wish for the nekkers, girl, more ingredients for your devilish potions!"

     "You complain about my presence, but don't acknowledge the drowners have stayed away from the ships," She spat on the ground in front of a man with dark hair and full mead belly. "I'm not making any potions, you old fool."

     "Then why do you sneak into town at night?"

     "With vials of eyes and chopped up brains?"

     "Would you prefer my company during the day, then?" Lysandra seethed, "It surely doesn't seem like it."

     "You steal children in the night!"

     "You send men off to the forest, to their death!"

     "You've bewitched my husband," A woman, with ashen, graying hair and black eyes, emerged from the crowd with a pointed finger raised in the young woman's direction. For once, Lysandra said nothing in response, only glared silently. "You're a witch."

     "Hang the bitch!"

     "Hang the bitch!"

     "Hang the witch!"

     That commotion piqued Geralt's interest fully. Although his attention had been taken up with Dandelion's inaccurate retelling of the woman Malena, a torch, and a burned down watchtower, the word 'witch' shattered his bubble of ignorance completely. For a split moment, his heart pounded at the thought they were shouting about him, but as he moved through the angry crowd, he caught a glimpse of the wiggling body of a dark-haired woman.

     Commandant Loredo was quick to find him, his interest captured by the White Wolf standing out in the crowd, and he nearly rushed the Witcher upon spotting him. "Geralt!" The Commandant laughed heartily. "To what do we in Flotsam owe this pleasure?"

     Dandelion nearly collapsed into the background, face turning red sheepishly, but Geralt stepped in before the Commandant could grow angry about their previous visit. He told Loredo the truth, that they both were in Flotsam looking for work; the inn was always a packed house and the forests beyond Flotsam were home to swarms of dangerous creatures. Geralt began to lose interest in Loredo as he told him of their mighty battalion, the parade of people that had protected their walls from any threats. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of the furious, shouting townspeople. He was barely able to see the four still bodies at the front of the crowd when his attention was caught again.

     Two young girls stood on the veranda behind him, chins in their hands with disinterested scowls on their dirty face. They were clearly sisters, with the same eyes and nose, and the taller one lazily turned her head to the younger girl. Geralt's eyes narrowed as she whispered, "I wonder if she'll come back this time."