The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

A Poets Love

(F/N) walked into the Rosemary and Thyme, he made sure he got his emotions back in check. Already trying his best to forget his outburst. There were a few men sitting at the table admiring the scantily clad women. The witcher smiled as he saw Dandelion and Priscilla, but he frowned when he saw that they were arguing. The trobairitz seemed angry, "Is this truly what you want? To be a purveyor of cheap whores and watered down wine?"

The poet seemed shocked, "Hey! I can't control what I inherit!"

"But you can control what you do with it!"

"I know, I know. Which is exactly why I'm considering..."

"Ugh. You're always considering! If it's not one thing, it's another! Let me know when you finally decide." Priscilla stormed off after she had the last word. She kept glaring as she slammed the door that (F/N) had just come through.

The witcher walked up to Dandelion, "What was that about?"

Dandelion looked offended, as he took his purple bonnet off and rubbed his forehead with it, "She spat in my face, or might as well have. Called me a 'whore-monger and a witless hack.' Can you imagine? Wit is my forte!"

"Gotta say. Priscilla's really growing on me," the witcher added, while he smirked at Dandelion's expense.

"Save it."

"Then save your pouting. Do you think Ciri and I never fought? She used to insult me daily about a variety of things. That's what women do to get you to change. You just need to change."

The troubadour nodded, as he gestured to the inn, "Exactly what I plan to do to. I've always dreamed  of having my own cabaret. A bit of paint and plaster and this place will do splendidly. Just one hitch..."

The witcher folded his arms, he knew where this was going, "You need coin?"

"Yes! Maybe when you get a break from drowners and ekimmu-jigs, maybe you could help an old friend out?"

(F/N) shook his head, angered by many things his friend had said in that sentence, "First of all, there called ekimmaras, and they're incredibly rare. And I can't give you anymore coin. I only need a hundred more crowns and I can pay for passage to Skellige, and I can't find any more contracts."

Dandelion shook his head, "No, no, not like that. I have a plan."

"Uh-oh."

The bard ignored him, "I dated this girl once - Sophronia. That's a name, if you can believe it. Has a merchant for a father, importer of spices from Zerrikania. And daddy dear would never refuse his daughter a thing. We can borrow the coin from her."

(F/N) sighed as he folded his arms, for a moment it was sounding as though the troubadour wanted him to kidnap the woman, "Okay...so how do I come into play?"

Dandelion smiled, happy that he had a friend to help him, "Sophrinia could still be holding a grudge after our...unfortunate parting. But, with a touch of help from you. I know she'll forgive me. And then give me that loan."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Wellll....let's just say it involves a prop sword I got from Madame Irina. She kissed the tip of it and told me to give it to you. What's that all about by the way?"

(F/N) shook his head, but he was smiling, "Nothing. It's nothing. Why do I need a prop sword?"

The troubadour wrapped an arm around him and started walking to the door, "I'll explain it all on the way to Sophrina's house. You'll do perfect. And if all goes according to plan. I'll happily give you the hundred crowns."