A/N: Hey guys, not really sure how to start this off. I haven't updated in so long because I've had a lot in my personal life just exploding at once- not because I don't want to write this story- tbh it's become very therapeutic to write. Just as a little note, um, if you're struggling with your mental health, PLEASE reach out and get help. That's all I think I can say for the moment. But on a more positive note, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

All my love. xx

Rain drummed steadily on the roof of the villa, lulling its occupants into a lazy half-doze. Geralt rubbed impatiently at his eye as he slammed yet another ledger shut, irritably waving away a cloud of dust that rose up in a billowing haze from its pages. He glanced out of the glazed glass window, itching to return to the Path. He'd been pouring over the paperwork for almost two full days, and he was anxious to make some sort of progress.

He'd already descended into a dark mood when he'd found no mention of Gwaethe in the records of court sorcerers. He'd checked against the pellar, herbalist, doctor, and soothsayer records and had found exactly nothing. Somehow, Gwaethe had managed to erase all trace of his activities at court.

Half of Geralt was impressed; the other half was deeply annoyed.

Geralt had to admit that he was darkly amused at the thought of Emir reacting to the state of the court in Toussaint. The White Flame Dancing Upon the Graves of His Foes never responded well to failure.

The records of purchases made in the sum of twenty thousand florens checked out too, which didn't help his mood. It was all accounted for by credible nobles who had purchased horses, houses, whores, and haberdashery, and it had all been obtained by legal loans and credit notes to boot.

Geralt drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair.

"That's another dead end," he remarked, glancing over at B.B., who looked to be on the verge of falling asleep, "Found anything that connects the knights?"

"I have also not found a connection, Master Geralt," Barnabus said stiffly, trying his best to squash a yawn that threatened to escape. He succeeded, but only just.

"Take a break, B.B.," Geralt replied softly, turning away to hide the half-smile that curled over his lips. "You've helped enough. We're almost halfway through the ledgers."

"Thank you, sir. However, I doubt that I will be able to sleep peacefully knowing that we have failed to foil the villain who plagues Toussaint," B.B. replied stiffly, taking a large gulp of wine and settling himself more rigidly in his chair.

"Thanks for rubbing it in," Geralt said flatly.

His majordomo had the good grace to pink slightly. "There was no offence meant, sir."

Geralt sighed. "I know. What have we actually got done?"

"The knights who are unaccounted for number forty eight in total, and they have been sorted into that pile." B.B. gestured to the large, unsteadily stacked pile of ledgers to Geralt's right. "I cannot say that we have made any more progress than that. The remainder of the entries have been sorted into those who died in tourneys, of sickness, or on quests that allowed their bodies to be accounted for."

"There's something that I'm missing," Geralt mused, indicating all of the ledgers with a jerk of his head. "Why would the sorcerer go after knights? It would be easier to lure an unsuspecting peasant to their death-"

He cut off as something occurred to him.

"Barnabus, do we have a ledger that details how much each of the missing knights-errant were worth?"

"I don't follow, sir."

"None of the knights left behind wills, don't you find that odd?"

"Word of mouth agreements are often enough in Toussaint, sir-"

Geralt waved his hands impatiently, searching for the best way to explain what he was thinking. "The knights that were tricked into searching for Sophie-Marie, I think that they were specifically targeted. What I don't know is why."

"We have already perused the ledgers that detail the quests and tourneys that were afforded to the knights, sir," Barnabus said dejectedly, indicating another small pile of books to Geralt's right.

"That's not what I'm asking. I want to know how much they were worth. I'm curious about the wealth that they had."

"Including all of their inheritances, stipends, tax collections, and businesses?"

"All of it," Geralt said firmly.

He stood smoothly and strode across the room. Impatiently, he grabbed the nearest ledger and turned to the table of contents laid out on the first page. He skimmed over the numbered pages before selecting one knight at random and opening the page.

"Sir Reginaud von Groteliere. Aged forty-one at the time of his disappearance," Geralt muttered, thinking hard as he stared at the elegantly inked information. "Listen to this. He owned several small vineyards that were all sold on the same day. He drained his bank accounts and then he officially disappeared thirteen days later."

Odd. That by itself is strange.

"The family actually owned six vineyards, however three were bought and turned into granaries to supply the Empire's ever-growing needs within the last ten years," Barnabus supplied helpfully, adjusting his spectacles and sniffing. "I'm afraid that the family found themselves on the wrong side of the lovely Duchess when Reginaud declined the honour of escorting the Lady Sophie-Marie to the Pont Dechartre horse races sixteen years ago. They had some difficulty finding connections who were willing to buy them out."

"Hm," Geralt replied noncommittally, turning the page. "Know anything about a guy called, uh, Airsmre aux La Marchembre..?"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes as B.B. immediately corrected his clumsy pronunciation of the name. "Fine. Who was he?"

"He was the Court valtz champion three years in a row," Barnabus-Basil said instantly, tapping his chin as he thought. "His family was a vassal to the Baron of Pont-Montmartre."

Geralt's eyes narrowed. There was a connection between the men.

"Were any of the missing knights non-nobles at birth?"

"Not that I know of, sir."

"Anyone who wasn't from old money?"

"No sir, every member of the list came from ancient and most distinguished families. The majority of which were proudly of Toussaint from birth, however, there was an influx of Nilfgaardian nobles after we became the vassal state of the most glorious Empire."

Geralt chose to ignore the patriotic bit.

"Hang on, back up," Geralt said shortly, pointing to the ledger. "If I tell you the names of the missing knights, can you tell me if they knew Sophie-Marie?"

"Naturally, sir."

Geralt squashed a flicker of annoyance and placed the book on the dining room table. He palmed an apple and took a bite, thinking.

"We've been looking for the wrong connections. Sophie-Marie's ghost, or whatever she is, is luring in people who knew her."

"To take their money?"

Geralt's expression darkened. "Mages live a long time, B.B., and they have expensive tastes."

"You are suggesting that the lady is willingly participating in this horrid scheme?" Barnabus said slowly, placing a shaking hand against his sternum as if to brace himself. "Master Geralt, then no one who was ever in her social circles is safe!"

"It's possible that he's just using her image, yes, but I don't think that Gwaethe would have all of the dirt on these knights without her help."

"Sir, that would imply that the lady was not as she appeared!" Barnabus shook his head violently, clearly distraught by the proposal. "She was good, and generous, and-"

"People aren't always what they seem," Geralt said firmly, crossing his arms. "Anyone is capable of anything."

"I shall respectfully disagree with you, Master Geralt, until such time that I have no choice," B.B. said stiffly.

Geralt was about to respond when his medallion pulsed. It vibrated violently against his jerkin, rattling insistently through his skin. A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth as he turned his head to the side, just in time to see a portal wink into existence in the junction between the dining room and the foyer.

Right on time.

The scent of cinnamon swept through the room, rustling the pages of the ledgers as a warm breeze.

His smile widened as Triss rippled into view, striding through the portal as if it were as easy as walking across a solid wooden bridge. Her bright eyes searched the room until her gaze settled on Geralt, and her somber expression split into a sunny smile.

His feet were carrying him across the room before his mind caught up. Triss met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck as she melted against him. She was halfway through saying hello when he silenced her with a kiss. Geralt smirked as she sighed softly against his mouth; he didn't think he'd ever get tired of her unrestrained affection. Geralt relished Triss' laugh of surprise and delight as he swept her into his arms.

"Someone's excited to see me," she said brightly, bracing her hands against Geralt's chest. "I just spoke to you two days ago."

"Mmhm, but that was a long-distance chat," Geralt rumbled, cradling her face with his callused palm. "It's not the same thing."

"No, it certainly isn't," she said lowly. Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and Geralt's heart skipped a beat as she gently pressed her lips to his in another kiss. He drew her ever closer, only pulling back as she made a small sound of protest.

"Careful, we're not all built to withstand crushing blows. I thought we had work to do," she murmured, sweeping a strand of her fiery hair behind her ear as he gently set her down. Her hands smoothed up Geralt's arm, and he very seriously considered just scooping her up again and hiding upstairs for a very long time, the contract be damned. Triss, ever observant, noticed the flicker of regret that flitted across his expression and leaned to whisper in his ear.

"As soon as you catch me up, we can do whatever it is that you're thinking about," she breathed, blushing brightly as the heat of his gaze settled on her. Geralt watched her admiringly as she stepped away from the curve of his arm and greeted B.B., who was as red as a tomato.

He'd completely forgotten about his majordomo, but he didn't deny the fact that there was a small part of him that very much enjoyed provoking the ever proper man.

Geralt's gaze travelled up the length of Triss' long legs, the curve of her waist, and the carefully crafted leather corset that she wore before sweeping over her expression as she spoke to Barnabus.

She's tired. I can smell the peppermint ointment that she uses to conceal exhaustion and dark circles on her. Hm. The way that she's standing…looks like she's been doing a lot of paperwork, her left shoulder's sitting slightly lower than her right.

His thoughts were interrupted as Triss glanced over her shoulder. Their gazes met, and she gave a minute nod of affirmation; she had a few things to discuss in private.

"So, what's all this?" Triss asked, indicating the piles of ledgers with a wave of her hand. Geralt fought the urge to sigh.

"Gifts from the bank and the Duchess," he replied shortly, impatiently running a hand over his week-old beard. "We're looking for connections between the missing knights."

Triss cocked her head to the side and slid a ledger off of the largest pile. She opened up the first page and stuck her tongue between her teeth as she read. "Have you found anything that's promising?"

"Not exactly," Geralt admitted. "They all knew Sophie, but we're trying to figure out why they were targeted."

"Oh?"

"The connections aren't exactly revealing themselves," Geralt grumbled, shaking his head. "No one thought to organize the books by relevance. We have to go through them one by one."

Triss made a small sound of agreement before tapping her chin with her finger. "I learned a few useful sorting spells when the Lodge first got together. Sile was a piece of work, but her libraries were in flawless order. What are the search parameters?"

If Geralt was prone to open shock, his mouth would have dropped open. "So I could have just asked you to search for the overlaps," he said ruefully, scratching his head. "May as well try it. B.B.?"

"Ahem, yes. Right. Perhaps we should sort the knights by date of disappearance first," B.B. answered quickly, adjusting his spectacles. "A timeline should be established."

Triss nodded, raising her hands. They began to glow with a flickering red light, and Geralt was (not for the first time) impressed by the extent of her magic as the bindings of the ledgers slowly unwound themselves and the pages swirled around the room. The temperature in the dining area began to rise as Triss concentrated, moving her hands and fingers in complex signs that Geralt couldn't even begin to decipher.

"Darganfod te creasa!" Triss commanded, waving her hands one last time as the whirling pages rearranged themselves in a neat line in the air. They danced and spun around her as she quickly spread her fingers, allowing the pages to bloom outwards into a spinning ribbon of paper.

"Okay! Anything else you want to know? I can sort them into smaller groups from here."

Geralt whistled softly. "Right. Cross reference that with how much money they had in their bank accounts when they disappeared."

Triss nodded. With a twist of her hands, the pages fluttered into six spinning groups.

B.B., who was standing in the corner of the room with his mouth hanging open like a goldfish, regained his senses and consulted the inventory sheet that he'd kept on his workstation. "The next query should be the social proximity of the knight to the Lady Sophie-Marie!"

Triss obliged, sweeping her arms around in a circle. The pages spun and danced, snapping and fluttering into a straight line once more. "Darganfod te creasa!"

"The last thing to look for was when they took the last of their money out of their accounts," Geralt murmured.

Triss concentrated once more. Her brows knotted together as she spun her hands into another sign, commanding the pages to move.

"Darganfod te creasa!" She snapped, glancing at Geralt in confusion when the pages didn't move any further. "I don't understand why-oh! Geralt, they all drained their accounts thirteen days before they disappeared! There's nothing to differentiate them."

"That's good, thanks. You can put them down now."

Geralt's golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the pages rippled one last time, slowly descending towards the floor as Triss lowered her arms. She didn't appear to be drained from the spell, but Geralt could hear her slightly accelerated heartrate.

Geralt gathered the pages together. He knelt on the dining room floor, spreading the parchment and paper in a line according to where they'd arranged themselves in the air. Geralt nodded appreciatively; his theory appeared to pan out.

"Triss," he said slowly, glancing up at her, "Thanks."

Her cheeks warmed, and she smiled at him. "I couldn't let you boys have all of the fun. What do you see now?"

"Money," Geralt said grimly. "They're getting killed for their fortunes."

"How much are we talking about?" Triss asked, bending down to parse through the pages to Geralt's right. "Looks like they were fairly wealthy."

"Look at the amounts of money." Geralt pointed to the first three pages. "Three knights disappeared in the first year after Sophie died."

Triss' eyes widened. "Geralt, they were worth ninety thousand a year each!"

B.B. joined them, tapping on two of the names. "These two men were brothers. The money was shared between them, as far as I understand it. The brothers of the family Chermont aux D'Eaux were amicable with the Baron's family. The children were educated together in Beauclair."

Geralt chuckled softly, nodding to himself as he thought. "Our search just got easier."

"How so?" Triss asked, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't mean anything to me."

Geralt grinned, although there was no mirth in the expression. "We're not looking for a property or person that's only worth twenty thousand; we're looking for one that's upwards of half a million. Anyone who's collecting this kind of money would spend it."

Triss' slow grin spread across her face as she caught on. "There can't be that many properties or places that they could go where that kind of money wouldn't be noticed."

"Sir, I've found something else!" Barnabus exclaimed, gesturing animatedly with yet another book. "The Baron's accounts received the first payment from the anonymous benefactor in the exact amount that the elder brother held in his accounts. The money was deposited in the Baron's account precisely seven days after Sir Eroldkinder disappeared!"

"That's a magical number," Triss muttered, toying anxiously with her amulet. "If I had any doubts that a sorcerer was behind this, they're gone now."

Geralt glanced to the side, his golden eyes narrowing. "Need any more proof that Sophie-Marie's involved?"

Triss shook her head sadly, running her fingers across the numbers that were inked in the bank's records. "All of these men died so that a mage and his wife could live in secret. How cruel."

"Triss," Geralt said quietly, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the length of her arm. "What's done is done."

"I know that," she whispered, turning her head to hide the sheen of emotion in her eyes. "I should be used to how selfish people can be. I guess I haven't learned that lesson yet."

B.B. took that very opportune moment to bustle out of the room, presumably to gather refreshments.

Geralt met Triss' somber gaze as she finally turned her head back towards him. His steely expression softened as he smoothly rose to his feet, offering her his hand. She took it and stood silently with him for a moment. He didn't say anything; he was content to wait for her to finish her thought. His blood pulsed quickly through his veins at the warmth of her touch, and she gently squeezed his hand before letting go and stepping away.

"When I add that to what I learned in Kovir, it makes this whole thing even sadder," Triss murmured, crossing her arms across her stomach.

Geralt settled back against the dining room table as she paced, speaking quickly as she thought.

"I used some of my contacts at court to find out if anyone knew anything about Sophie. Turns out the Nilfgaardian ambassador was the one who got them a marriage license," Triss said darkly, toying with a lock of her hair.

"What did he say?" Geralt asked curiously, crossing his arms with interest. "Did he know that it was against Annarietta's orders?"

"Yes!" Triss exclaimed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "He didn't want to tell me anything, but he didn't have a choice. I'm embarrassed to admit that I used some of my political power to force him to tell me everything-"

Her expression darkened as she cut off. Triss resumed her pacing with a renewed fervour, much to Geralt's quiet amusement.

"What's the story?" Geralt asked quietly, watching as she marked a path across the floor. Her boots clicked against the polished wood. As she swept past once again, he caught a hint of her scent; honeysuckle and cinnamon.

He forced himself to focus. Triss made a small sound of exasperation.

"There isn't much to tell. Armand managed to get them the license, but it cost them twenty thousand florens. Why he charged them that much, I don't know-"

"That's the amount that Gwaethe stole from the Cianfanelli bank," Geralt supplied, shaking his head. "It's starting to make sense now."

"Enlighten me, would you?" Triss sighed and half-threw herself into one of the dining room chairs. "My head's spinning. I'm sorry, Geralt, I wish I could be of more help."

"I've got it handled. The money that was stolen from the bank before Sophie died was to pay off the ambassador when she travelled to Kovir. When she came back, she got her affairs in order. After that, she got sick."

"Do we know if she actually died?"

"Nope."

"Hm, that's concerning," Triss muttered, toying with a loose thread on her sleeve. "So we're assuming that there's necromancy at work because knights are disappearing."

"In her house, there were three objects from her bedroom that were moved; they didn't match the dust that coated everything else."

"What were they?" Triss asked sharply, now sitting rigidly in her chair.

"A mirror, a comb, and a quill."

Triss swore. Geralt asked a silent question by raising one eyebrow.

"Sorry, I was surprised," Triss said darkly. "That's one of Yen's more poetic reanimation spells. When I first met her, she was trying to find a way to reverse our infertility, and she used three things that represented her most important attributes as a sorceress to try and jumpstart a reverse reaction."

"What were they supposed to represent?" Geralt asked slowly, frowning.

"The comb had something to do with the threads of life; there's an ancient story about three sisters who use hair to determine fate. It's Zerrikanian, I think. The mirror is the beauty that she gained with her powers, and the quill is the weapon of her mind and will."

"Why would that apply to a noblewoman?"

Triss bit her lip with worry. "I think something else is going on here. If she wanted to be with her husband forever, it's possible that they tried to make her into something that could survive the ages with him. In a sense, the human in her died, and something else rose in her place."

She trailed off meaningfully.

Geralt's eyes widened slightly with understanding. "They needed the money to make her into a sorceress."

"It's a theory, but it's entirely possible. I need to see the items for the spell and run some tests, but I should be able to rule it out. The only thing that bothers me is why the knights are killed on such a regular basis."

"You think something went wrong."

"Yes," Triss let out a long breath, waving her hands as she gathered her thoughts. "It wouldn't follow Yen's energy replacement theorem so perfectly if everything had worked out well. I think she might be something in between; in other words, something went wrong and she isn't alive or dead."

Geralt's expression darkened. "Like a curse."

"Exactly."

"She might be searching for a way to break it."

Triss nodded. "That might explain why they need so much money. If Gwaethe is anything like how Yen remembers him, he'll buy the most expensive things that he can get his hands on."

"Sounds about right. The knights that disappeared first were the richest, and also the closest to her, according to B.B., anyways. What I can't wrap my head around is why the Baron is receiving payments."

Triss shrugged. "It's simple; she loves her father. Maybe Gwaethe doesn't know how much she's sending to him."

"I hear she was a philanthropist," Geralt remarked drily. "Fifteen years is a long time to run this con."

"You don't sound satisfied," Triss said pointedly. She tapped her finger against her chin. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not sure why they didn't just go after the Duchess herself."

Geralt nodded. "One person would have solved all of their problems. She'd be hard to attack directly, but she feels guilty enough over their last fight to be a good target."

"Oh, I see where you're going with this! I think it's as simple as the predator explanation."

"You gonna elaborate?" Geralt asked wryly, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn up. "Are Sophie and Gwaethe the prey or the predator?"

Triss laughed. "They're the sharks. They had to pick the smaller fish, because they couldn't hope to go after the whale, so to speak. You will never breathe a word of this conversation to the Duchess, by the way." Triss pointed an accusing finger towards Geralt, who was chuckling at the thought of Annarietta's reaction to being referred to as a whale.

Grinning, he nodded at her to continue. Triss laughed as well, turning red as she finished her thought.

"So the longer the scam went on, less money was available. They started picking the next most suitable knights. The smaller fish are the only ones still alive at this point. Meanwhile, they're still alive and reaping the benefits."

"Alright," Geralt confirmed, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his bicep, "Not a bad idea."

"Do you think that the Baron is in on the plan?"

Geralt sighed. "No, I don't think that he was lying. He seemed upset that his daughter might be alive."

"Wouldn't you be? This whole situation makes me feel ill. Do you think that there's a reason for all this that doesn't just equal the deaths of dozens of innocent people?"

"Honestly? No."

Triss laughed bitterly. "So things are just great everywhere. Good to know."

"Triss."

"Yes?"

Geralt settled down next to her, watching her intently. "The king's got you in the middle of something dangerous."

His statement wasn't a question.

Triss' lower lip was caught between her teeth as she thought, and Geralt forced his gaze away from her now slightly-reddened lip. She spoke quietly, running a hand across her eyes. "Politics are dangerous, so that's nothing new. Tankred's a decent man, and a just king. It's just Philippa and Yen. Now that the Lodge is mostly back together…well, you know what they're like."

She trailed off, and Geralt didn't need to ask to know what weighed on her mind.

"Philippa can't do anything to you, you know that."

"No, but her objections are causing a rift between the members, and that's the last thing that we need right now, after everything that happened in Redania, and Temeria, and then in Skellige-"

"What's the damage?"

"Philippa and Ida are very much against Witchers and sorceresses having relationships, apparently now that the White Frost is defeated, the prophecy is finished, so, there's no more need for an alliance. Yen, Rita, and Fringilla seem to be neutral. Kiera and I are the only voices of reason; apparently the other members have forgotten that we're stronger together."

"I won't let them get between us. Ignore them," Geralt said firmly, smiling gently as her dark expression lightened slightly. "We'll deal with that later."

"Wow, Toussaint is really getting to you," she murmured, reaching over to brush her thumb across his cheek. "When did you get so romantic?"

"Something in the air, I guess," he replied playfully. "What do you want to know? I know that look."

"This contract, how did you even come across it?"

"It was hanging outside the Cockatrice," Geralt rumbled, leaning back in his chair. "It didn't seem too difficult. I thought I was looking for a runaway daughter."

"Well it's a little more than you bargained for," Triss chuckled. "What's the next step?"

"We'll go back to the Baron."

Triss hummed thoughtfully. "We should contact Yen as well; she may have learned something that can lead us towards Gwaethe. We should update her on the amount of money that she's looking for."

Geralt sighed. "I might have to go and visit the Duchess again. I don't really wanna go alone-"

The corner of his mouth turned upwards as Triss' expression lit up. "What?"

"Does that mean that you'll wear your black doublet?" She asked playfully, wagging her finger at him.

Geralt scowled. "I don't have a choice."

"Maybe we'll have to go and see her," Triss said teasingly, standing up and spinning around. She shot Geralt a coy look over her shoulder. "I don't get to see you all dressed up very often. So, I think I might be a little bit selfish and insist-"

She cut off as Geralt darted to his feet and swept her into his arms. "Geralt!"

"I can think of a lot of things that are a lot more interesting than that," he said lowly, striding towards the stairs. She shook her head at him, but she was smiling. He ascended the steps with ease, relishing the warm bubble of joy that bloomed in his chest as Triss (very helpfully) undid the knots on his jerkin.

"Oh?"

At the top of the stairs, Geralt replaced Triss on her feet. She hopped up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he had to very forcibly remind himself to answer her question when she nipped playfully at his lip.

"Starting with my new bed," he said with difficulty, quickly unlacing her outer corset with practised ease.

"What happened to the old one..?" She asked breathlessly, trailing off as his lips burned a path from her collarbone to her ear. Her tiny sigh of pleasure spurred him onwards, and he smoothed a hand over the curve of her behind, lifting her with ease. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as he manoeuvered them backwards, towards the master bedchamber.

"It wasn't big enough," Geralt rumbled, pushing his bedroom door open with his knee. Triss didn't protest as he quickly deposited her down on the aforementioned bed with ease. She stretched languidly, watching him as he closed the door and locked it. A sly, catlike grin spread over her mouth as he stalked towards her, shedding his loose linen shirt as he did so. With a lazy flick of her fingers, Triss ignited the candles placed around the room, lighting up the space with a golden glow.

"You're stealing my thunder," Geralt remarked, running a calloused hand over her hip and pulling her closer. "I was going to light those."

"You can do it next time," Triss said breathlessly, arching into his touch. He smirked.

"I'll take you up on that," he murmured, hitching her leg up around his hip as he bent down to kiss her.

"Careful, I might start to think that you missed me," Triss purred, sighing with contentment as he put one knee on the bed, carefully balancing on top of her as she sank down on the down-filled cushions.

"Mmhm, would that be so bad?" Geralt asked, working one hand between the ties on her linen undershirt. His other hand worked at the ties of her pants. She helped, although their hands were clumsy with haste. "I heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder."

She hummed her agreement and pressed closer, kissing him with a passion that he'd come to miss. "You can stop talking now," she breathed, gently dragging her nails down his spine. "I'd rather try out this new bed."

Geralt found himself agreeing wholeheartedly. He lost himself in her warmth; basking in how responsive she was to his touch, and the way that she called out his name. Yeah, he'd missed her an awful lot.

Later, when they were nothing but a pile of tangled limbs and post-coital bliss, Triss finally spoke.

"I think Toussaint has been good for you," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. "I don't think I've ever seen you this cheerful."

Geralt chuckled softly. "Until this contact came up, I was bored."

"Hm, maybe that's better than carrying the weight of the world," Triss reminded him softly, propping herself up on one elbow. Geralt couldn't help that his gaze followed the path of the bedsheet that dipped ever lower on her shoulder. He forced his attention back to the present and sighed.

"It was simple."

"I get it. There weren't many shades of grey to deal with. Life feels more complicated now," Triss said ruefully, running a hand over her newly freed hair. Geralt carded his hand through her soft tresses, marvelling at the way that the fiery strands caught the candlelight. With his augmented vision, the glow of the candles made her hair look just like liquid fire.

"It was always complicated. Now it's just the same pest contracts over and over again," he muttered.

"No wonder you jumped at this one," Triss murmured. She snuggled closer to his side, and Geralt let the silence sit for a few moments before he couldn't keep his burning question to himself any longer.

"So…what did you think of my last letter?"

Geralt was slightly discomforted by the unfamiliar note of worry in his tone; he wasn't usually timid or insecure around Triss, but he couldn't keep his question at bay any longer. She had neglected to directly answer a question that he'd asked in their last correspondence, and he wasn't sure how to take her silence. Ever the straightforward type, Geralt wanted an answer out in the open.

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. "Geralt…things in Kovir are going really well, I can't just abandon the council."

"They're politicians, not children," Geralt said grumpily, not so gently pushing his hair away from his face. She glared half-heartedly at him.

"In a few months I'll feel comfortable enough to leave for a while. I promise that I want to be here, with you. We can retire here, for good."

If Geralt could purr, he would have. Warmth flickered to life in his chest, and he could feel his neutral expression softening as Triss watched him with her ever expressive eyes.

Fine. What's another year?

"Where have I heard that before," Geralt said drily, shifting his golden gaze to meet hers. "Witchers live a long time, I'll wait."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as she leaned over to kiss him. Anything that he was about to say was lost as she tugged at his shoulder, encouraging him to roll on top of her once more.

"Good, I'm not done with you yet."

The next day brought with it insistent bird calls and a loud banging at the front door. Geralt's golden eyes snapped open at the sound, and he was out of bed and halfway to his swords before the last knock had echoed through the house. Triss sleepily climbed out of bed, shrugging into a robe that she conjured from her trunk at the foot of the bed.

Geralt only did the same after she threw another plush robe at him and huffed.

"I don't need this," he said shortly, striding towards the door with his steel sword loosened in its scabbard. She rolled her eyes and gestured at his naked body.

"What if it's someone that you can't afford to offend? Just put it on. I'll put an illusion on it. It'll look like armour."

Geralt grumbled his agreement, but he was already halfway down the stairs. He impatiently pulled the silk of the robe over his shoulders as he hauled the front door open. Magic whispered over his skin at Triss' murmured incantation, and he fought the urge to shrug it off.

"What?" He demanded, glaring into the half-darkness outside the door. "This had better be important-Giles?"

He cut off mid-sentence as the Baron of Pont-Montmartre bowed gracefully. Geralt's eyes narrowed; this was the last thing that he'd expected to see before dawn. He replaced his blade in its scabbard and stepped into the entryway of the grand house, gesturing for the lord to follow him. Geralt resisted the urge to glare at Barnabus as he rushed into the entryway, babbling excuses and apologies to the lord for not being immediately available to open the door.

As far as Geralt was concerned, the Baron should have waited until the morning to bother him.

Triss gracefully made her way down the steps, cocking her head curiously to the side as Geralt led Giles into the dining room.

"It's early, my Lord," Geralt finally said, nodding subtly at Triss to join the conversation. She did so, somehow looking regal in her bedclothes. Giles had the good grace to redden, looking away in embarrassment as he took the offered seat at the table and gratefully accepted the glass of wine that Barnabus seemed to conjure from thin air.

"My apologies, Master Witcher. I have been unable to sleep for some time."

"What's the problem?"

"The Duchess sent a letter," Giles replied stiffly, grasping his goblet with a grip tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "She accused me of a number of things that I found to be terribly offensive. I had hoped that you could enlighten me as to what is going on."

Geralt caught the note of warning in his tone; it was loud and clear. His already dark mood descended further towards the black as he crossed his arms. "The story's getting more complicated by the day. I have some questions of my own that I'd like answered, if you don't mind."

Triss' eyebrows shot upwards at the darkness in his low, gravelly tone. If Geralt was prone to looking sheepish, he would have sported a bright red blush on his cheeks in response to the quietly chastising cast of her face. She swept into the room and settled into the chair next to Giles.

"This must be difficult for you. Can you tell us what the Duchess said in her letter?"

Giles sighed, running a hand over his unlined face. "Annarietta is under the impression that I sent Sophie-Marie to Kovir to allow her to elope with that sorcerer that we discussed. Did you know this, uh, Madame?"

"Triss Merigold. I'm currently King Tankred's advisor, which allowed me to help Geralt with his inquiry about your daughter," Triss replied merrily, smiling gently. Her affable manner made Giles relax somewhat, and Geralt released a breath that he'd only been half-aware that he'd been holding.

"Triss arrived this afternoon, she just told me what happened. Annarietta must be doing some investigating of her own," Geralt grumbled. "Sophie-Marie met with the Nilfgaardian ambassador and bought a marriage license."

"I did not know," Giles whispered. His face had paled, and he shakily raised his goblet to his lips. After a hearty sip of the deep red wine, he stared into the ruby liquid as if it held some of the answers that he sought. "My own daughter married a stranger behind my back?"

"It seems so," Triss said carefully, darting a concerned glance at Geralt. "We have some questions that we also need answered, as Geralt so delicately put it."

Great. Looks like we're going to have to move our schedule up.

Geralt sighed deeply. "Come on. Let's go see Annarietta."

Triss' eyebrows shot upwards. "Now?"

"Now," Geralt said firmly. "I'm tired of her interfering. We're leaving in ten minutes. "

With that, he strode upstairs to where his dreaded black doublet lay in a drawer. He wasn't in the mood for games, and his path upstairs was punctuated by muttered curses. He hated that doublet.