This is a non-commercial fanfic based on the universes of The Witcher and Disco Elysium. All rights to the original works, characters, names, and elements of their respective worlds belong to their respective copyright holders. The author of this fanfic does not claim ownership of any of them. Age rating: rated R (18+). The text contains profanity, alcohol, fictional drugs, violence, and other themes intended for an adult audience.
“It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.”
— Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Scandal in Bohemia”
NARRATOR – Through the same gap in the fence, you make your way back into the inn’s backyard. The rain has stopped, leaving behind sucking mud and air thick with the stench of rot, as though it had been left to steep. The two red-haired children are hanging around by the shed, quietly talking among themselves.
DISCERNMENT [Easy: Success] – They couldn’t possibly have missed your arrival. More than that, they’re now eagerly awaiting the second act of the tragicomedy. To them, it’s only a performance. You, however, are about to take part in it directly.
MASQUE [Trivial: Success] – Our esteemed audience is already growing impatient, maestro!
NARRATOR – About ten minutes later, two new actors arrive on the scene — a pair of soldiers who look no older than twenty-five. The taller, broader-shouldered one carries a long saw, its sharpened teeth gleaming. He looks grim; apparently, being ordered to take a rotting corpse down from a tree is not among the duties young men dream of when they put on a uniform. The shorter one is hauling a wooden ladder. His face, by contrast, radiates good humor and complete satisfaction with life.
VERNON ROCHE – Well, Captain Meis kept his word.
NARRATOR – The moment he spots the guards, the red-haired boy deftly hops onto an old barrel standing by the shed wall, pulls himself up, and scrambles onto the roof. His companion hurriedly follows. Perched atop the shed as though in their own private theater box, the two watch with eager anticipation to see what happens next.
DEFTNESS [Easy: Success] – Not bad. If things go wrong, they can jump from there onto the roof of the nearest house and make a run for it.
NARRATOR – The guards give Vernon a brief, distinctly unenthusiastic salute. He regards them with only the faintest interest.
VERNON ROCHE – You came to cut through a thick rope with a saw? Why not bring a pair of hedge shears, or a sharp knife?..
NARRATOR – The shorter guard busily sets the ladder beneath the tree, checks that its feet aren’t slipping in the mud, and steadies it with both hands.
GUARD WITH THE LADDER – Beg pardon, pan Roche! We were told you needed help with some tree and a dead man. So we brought the saw. But don’t you worry — my mate here’ll snip through whatever needs snipping in no time!
NARRATOR – Vernon merely shakes his head in silence. The guard with the ladder beams at him. His companion spits on his palms, climbs a few rungs, awkwardly gets himself into position, and starts sawing through the wet, swollen rope. The saw moves lazily back and forth.
RED-HAIRED GIRL – Look, Rune! Look what’s happening! That dead man’s about to come crashing down right on the mutant’s head!
NARRATOR – The red-haired runt, apparently the Rune in question, doubles over laughing. You glance around warily, checking that you’re standing far enough away from the tree.
DEFTNESS [Trivial: Success] – Far enough. No dead man is going to fall on you unless he drops straight out of the sky.
NARRATOR – The soldier on the ladder glances toward the shed without stopping what he’s doing.
GUARD WITH THE SAW – Shut your mouth, you little brat!
RED-HAIRED GIRL – Ha! Kiss my arse, you dog!
GUARD WITH THE SAW – Just you come down from there and I’ll tear your ears off.
RED-HAIRED GIRL – Catch me first, shit-shoveler!
RUNE – Fuck off, you bastard!
NARRATOR – While the insults continue, the guard finally saws through the thick rope. It snaps with a sharp crack. The body drops fast and hits the ground like a heavy sack. There is nothing human left in it now. The children cry out in delight. The taller soldier climbs down, grimacing as he wipes his hands on his trousers.
GUARD WITH THE LADDER – The coroner will be here shortly. We’ll help load the body, pan Roche.
VERNON ROCHE – Excellent. Perhaps we should examine it in the meantime.
NARRATOR – The boy on the roof lets out a cackling cry of delighted disbelief and turns to his friend.
RUNE – Hey, Runa, are they really gonna feel up the stiff? Eww…
RUNA – Bet the mutant’s gonna carve him up afterward and cure the pieces! Drain out all the blood for his poisons, dry the brains, and stick ’em on a shelf!
CODEX [Medium: Success] – Strictly speaking, she’s wrong. Witcher potions are usually made from herbs, mushrooms, strong alcohol, and various alchemical ingredients. Witchers generally have no use for human blood. At least not in the alchemical sense.
YOU – And what about the rest of it?
CODEX – You mean the carving, curing, and drying? What do you think? I doubt you’d go in for anything like that.
NARRATOR – The guard with the saw shoots the children an angry look, but decides not to say anything.
VERNON ROCHE – Ignore them.
NARRATOR – The body lies at the roots of the tree in a miserable, bloated heap. The rope is still cinched tightly around its neck. The head is twisted at an unnatural angle. The face is swollen and darkened. The tongue looks like a fat gray slug.
FORTITUDE [Challenging: Failure] – The stench is unbearable. You’ll never wash it off. I don’t envy the coroner.
NARRATOR – You crouch down beside the corpse. Vernon stands off to one side, a little farther back. The soldiers hold their breath behind you like an honor guard. One is still gripping the ladder tightly, the other the saw. From the outside, your silent little tableau probably resembles a frozen scene from some dreadful farce.
RUNA – Now the fun starts!
RUNE – Who d’you think stinks worse: the stiff or the mutant?
RUNA – The mutant, once he’s dead too!
STEADINESS [Trivial: Success] – Vernon’s right. Just ignore them.
VERNON ROCHE – What do you make of it?
YOU – Um… Honestly, I’m not very good at… feeling up stiffs…
NARRATOR – You stare blankly at the corpse. It stares back, plainly unwilling to give up any of its secrets. Roche calmly takes out his notebook and prepares to write.
VERNON ROCHE – Then don’t feel it up. Use your witcher senses, the way you did before. We’re not pathologists, but we may still be able to draw a few conclusions.
KEEN EYE [Medium: Success] – The noose is tight. Very tight. There are numerous small injuries visible on the skin.
YOU – The rope is pulled tight. The victim’s cervical vertebrae are probably broken. There are multiple external injuries to the face and chest.
VERNON ROCHE – As we’ve already established, those were caused by the gulls…
NARRATOR – He makes a brief note.
VERNON ROCHE – …And also by a juvenile offender who was throwing stones at the corpse. Let’s put this down as: injuries caused by small objects traveling at relatively low speed.
NARRATOR – The runt on the roof turns red and shouts in righteous indignation.
RUNE – Hey, Bedouin, what the hell?! What d’you mean “low”? Those rocks were fucking FLYING!
NARRATOR – Vernon continues writing without the slightest reaction.
VERNON ROCHE – …The juvenile offender, having entered the crime scene without authorization, admitted to mutilating the body by throwing stones at it. He also stated that the rocks were “fucking flying.”
SENSIBILITY [Easy: Success] – Sometimes — very occasionally — he allows himself a joke. A little humor really wouldn’t hurt right now.
RUNE – Damn right!
KEEN EYE – Look at the hands bound behind his back.
YOU – His hands were tied behind his back at the wrists. Might be worth taking a closer look.
NARRATOR – Vernon gives the guard with the saw a curt nod. Fighting down his disgust, the man reluctantly starts sawing through the rope.
RUNA – Now the stiff’s gonna clap his hands!
NARRATOR – The guard snorts through his nose, doing his best to suppress a gag. The rope fibers snap apart. You lean in closer.
KEEN EYE – There are clear marks on the wrists. But they’re strange: no abrasions, no bruising, none of the dark, ragged lines you’d expect if a living person had struggled against the bindings. Just deep, even grooves left by the rope.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – If he’d been tied up while still alive, you’d expect blood beneath the skin, chafing, signs of a struggle. There’s none of that here.
YOU – Vernon… Looks like his hands were tied after he was already dead.
NARRATOR – Roche stops writing and looks at you over the top of his notebook.
VERNON ROCHE – What makes you think that?
YOU – The rope marks are there, but they’re just indentations. He doesn’t seem to have struggled against the bindings.
RUNE – Get this — some freak tied him up after he was already dead! That’s fucked up!
VERNON ROCHE – That is… highly unusual. I think we should wait for the coroner to confirm it. But if you’re right, when could the binding have taken place? Hardly after he was already dangling well above the ground…
NARRATOR – You pause, thinking it over.
DIALECTIC [Easy: Failure] – Yes. The perfect moment for a dramatic logical deduction… So, what we have here is… Hmm. Hm-m.
YOU – What’s wrong?
DIALECTIC – Hm? What? Nothing. Everything’s fine.
YOU – So what about the deduction?
DIALECTIC – The deduction? What deduction?
YOU – Brilliant…
NARRATOR – Meanwhile, Roche follows the thought to its conclusion.
VERNON ROCHE – But if his hands were tied earlier, then… they hanged the body after he was already dead?..
NARRATOR – He looks at you in bewilderment. Even the children on the roof have fallen quiet. Somewhere in the distance, gulls are crying.
VERNON ROCHE – What would be the point? Was someone trying to mislead the investigation and conceal the true cause or place of death?
NARRATOR – He’s mostly talking to himself now.
VERNON ROCHE – If so, that only makes the case more complicated — assuming, of course, that our conclusions are even correct. Still, we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Let’s wait for the coroner’s opinion.
YOU – Yes… probably.
NARRATOR – At that moment, a ragged old man carrying a battered stretcher walks onto the vacant lot. He looks remarkably like a beggar.
ARTISTRY [Easy: Success] – The sort who beg for alms outside the Temple of the Eternal Fire, wailing the same pitiful story year after year.
GUARD WITH THE LADDER – Good day, pan coroner! Here, let us help you.
CORONER – And a good day to you too, lads! Much obliged for the help. I couldn’t haul a great brute like this on my own anymore — back’s not what it used to be. Take the poor fellow over yonder to the fence; my cart’s waiting in the street. Easy with him, mind… He won’t be telling you anything now, but he may yet have a thing or two to tell me. If you know how to ask the right questions, heh-heh…
NARRATOR – The guards salute, pick up the body with obvious disgust, lay it on the stretcher, and carry their mournful burden away from the vacant lot. Vernon watches them go, still lost in thought. The coroner wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. It was white once. A very long time ago.
CORONER – Well then, good sirs, I’ll have a little report drawn up for you by tomorrow and send it over with a messenger straight away. Won’t manage it today — I’ve already got more patients than I know what to do with.
BOND OF STEEL [Challenging: Success] – …Down at the Vizima docks, in an alley not far from a warehouse, guardsmen Jurajda and Janusz stare gloomily at a mangled corpse. “Listen, Jurajda… why don’t we just dump him in the canal and be done with it? Make life easier for everyone.” “Yeah, and tomorrow he’ll float up by the quay. Then they’ll order us to fish him out, and we’ll have even more trouble. We’ll have to drag him all the way across the quarter to old Mateusz at the morgue. Pfft, kurwa… What a rotten job…”
CORONER – One drowned man, two with knife wounds, some woman with her skull bashed in, and now your handsome lad here has turned up too. Lovely day, damn it. But the captain asked me to give this fine specimen a bit of priority, so…
NARRATOR – The old man spreads his hands.
VERNON ROCHE – Excellent. Please pay particular attention to the wrists. They were tightly bound behind the back; we suspect the bindings may have been applied after death. Have the report delivered to the Shaggy Bear Inn. If we’re not there, leave it with the innkeeper. Sealed, of course.
CORONER – Right you are, pan, I’ll see to it. Been at this trade nigh on thirty years now… Seen all sorts, I have… Once they brought in this ordinary-looking little fellow, and he’d got something stuck up his arse… Ahem. Well, never mind. I’ll save that tale for another time. Farewell, then!
NARRATOR – The coroner hobbles off after the soldiers. Silence settles over the vacant lot. The sun is already sinking behind the rooftops. Patches of shadow spread across the ground. The fence seems taller now. At last, Vernon speaks.
VERNON ROCHE – I suggest we call it a day and refrain from any further theorizing until we receive the full report. Though I must admit, the investigation is taking an unexpected turn. It’ll be dark soon… I think we should head back to the tavern and see about lodging for the night.
FOREBODING [Challenging: Success] – Evening is closing in. The streets of Vizima are packed with people returning home after an honest day’s work. Or at least work exhausting enough to pass for honest. In the Temple Quarter, craftsmen, shopkeepers, fishermen, dockworkers… people with calloused hands, empty stomachs, and simple fears hurry to and fro. In the Merchant Quarter, you’re more likely to find clerks, accountants, notaries, and other respectable functionaries with clean collars and dirty thoughts. There, they fear not the knife, but a lowered credit rating, an unexpected inspection… or their wives catching the scent of another woman’s perfume on them that evening.
NARRATOR – You enter the tavern. It’s a little livelier by evening, though not by much: people are still clearly frightened and avoid leaving their homes unless they have to. Only a few solitary patrons are scattered around the room, along with a group of burly men with the look of brigands loudly discussing the latest political news in very colorful language. One of them, waving a gnawed mutton bone in the air, bellows that the ruling dynasty of Kovir won’t last another month, while another, red in the face, insists on the exact opposite. You quickly stop paying attention to the heated argument. You don’t know what Kovir is anyway.
VERNON ROCHE – Come on. Let’s speak to the proprietor. And please, no more talk about drinking.
VICE [Trivial: Success] – Speaking of which, this is the perfect time to knock one back!
NARRATOR – Garte is still behind the counter. He looks slightly less irritated and slightly more tired than he did earlier.
GARTE – Good evening, gentlemen. How can I help you?
VERNON ROCHE – I’d like to arrange rooms for us — four nights, for now. One for me and one for my partner.
NARRATOR – The tavern manager nods and leans closer to Roche. By now, he has worked out which of you plays the leading role in this little duo, and which one serves as the fool.
MASQUE [Challenging: Failure] – Maestro, you are always the vedette, the darling of the audience — never the buffoon!
GARTE – Of course, pan Roche, no problem at all! You know the rate: twenty orens per person per night. Only, gentlemen, I must remind you that pan witcher still owes the establishment one hundred and twenty orens. As I recall, you promised to settle the bill this evening. I don’t mean to be rude, but we really ought to sort that out first.
ELOQUENCE [Easy: Success] – Once again, it must be said: the man has a silver tongue. He puts things so nicely you almost feel like leaving him a tip. Comes with the profession.
NARRATOR – Vernon looks at you expectantly without saying a word. You lower your eyes like a schoolboy who’s come home with another failing grade.
DOMINANCE [Medium: Failure] – Stop staring at the floor! There aren’t one hundred and twenty orens down there. Stand up straight, speak clearly, and don’t mumble!
NARRATOR – Hunched over, you clear your throat.
YOU – Listen, Garte… Could this… maybe wait? The thing is, I don’t have any… money.
NARRATOR – The innkeeper merely spreads his hands. Somewhere behind you, one of the patrons calls for another drink.
GARTE – I’m very sorry, pan witcher.
NARRATOR – He picks up a mug and carefully pours a beer, making sure it doesn’t foam too much. The head rises slowly and majestically. You swallow.
VICE [Medium: Success] – He’s taunting you. That isn’t beer. It’s leverage. Amber and ice-cold.
GARTE – In that case, I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night in the street. That doesn’t apply to you, of course, pan Roche! If you like, you can settle your bill at the end of your stay.
YOU – Yeah, but it’s cold and filthy out there…
RESOLVE [Challenging: Failure] – Don’t humiliate yourself in front of him. It won’t help.
MASQUE [Medium: Success] – No, no, maestro, exactly! Play for sympathy — lay it on thicker! We’ve already established that you can’t actually squeeze out a tear, but at least try delivering the speech with some anguish! You are not a debtor — you are a tragic hero temporarily deprived of solvency.
YOU – So what am I supposed to do now, sleep in a refuse pit? With dead rats? Is that what you want?! A royal envoy fallen on hard times, sleeping in a stinking hole and EATING RATS, huh???
NARRATOR – The other patrons are starting to turn and stare. Garte buries his face in his hands.
GARTE – Oh, gods… Listen, I warned you: this isn’t Saint Lebioda’s shelter. If you don’t have any money, maybe you should find some work? Take a contract on a monster, for instance? Why are you even trying to make this my problem?
DIALECTIC [Easy: Success] – Taking a monster contract is an excellent idea. The only problem is that you don’t have a weapon to kill the monster with.
DEFTNESS [Challenging: Failure] – Probably for the best. Otherwise you’d end up cutting off a few fingers while trying to demonstrate your mastery of the blade. Just to be clear: I mean your own fingers, not your opponent’s.
YOU – Don’t you feel even a little sorry for me?! I’ll freeze to death out there! It’ll be on your conscience, you heartless innkeeper!
NARRATOR – You slam your fist down hard on the countertop. The noise is loud enough to silence even the arguing men for a second. One of them looks at you with respect. Or pity.
FORTITUDE [Medium: Failure] – Ow! That hurt, you little cat bastard!
GARTE – I already told you, I’m not even—
NARRATOR – Vernon cuts your bickering short with a sharp gesture, already knowing where this sort of thing can lead.
VERNON ROCHE – Enough. Tell me, pan Garte, perhaps you’d be willing to accept this ring as compensation for the trouble we’ve caused and for our lodging? We won’t be staying more than five or six days.
NARRATOR – Your companion fishes a large ring set with a massive emerald from his belt pouch and holds it out to Garte. The innkeeper snatches up the ring with poorly concealed greed and examines it closely, paying particular attention to the stone.
VICE [Easy: Success] – O-o-oh, you could buy a lot of booze with a ring like that. An indecent amount. Enough to swim in — and not alone, either, but with some lovely creature for company.
GARTE – Hm-m… Yes, I suppose that would do.
KEEN EYE [Challenging: Failure] – The stone really is large. No telling whether it’s genuine, though. Then again, in your current financial situation even a piece of glass looks like a crown jewel.
GARTE – Agreed, pan Roche. The two rooms at the far end of the second floor are yours. Unfortunately, pan witcher will have to stay in the one with the broken window — which, I might add, he smashed himself. The glazier promised to replace it the day after tomorrow. And please, pan Roche: keep your… partner under control. As I already explained, business is bad enough as it is.
VERNON ROCHE – Of course. Thank you.
NARRATOR – You step away from the counter.
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – “Under control.” Wonderful. You’re no longer a witcher or even a human being, but some beast that needs to be kept on a short leash.
BRAWN [Trivial: Failure] – Yes, because you are an extremely dangerous and ferocious beast!
WHISPER – That wasn’t a compliment.
YOU – Ahem… Thank you. But Vernon… what was that ring? It looked expensive. Was the stone really genuine?
NARRATOR – He gives a crooked grin, casting a furtive glance back at the innkeeper.
VERNON ROCHE – Yes. The emerald appears to be genuine. But it’s no great loss: the ring wasn’t mine to begin with. Though at one point I did consider wearing it myself… It was a foolish idea. I have no need for that sort of ornament.
SENSIBILITY [Challenging: Success] – It belonged to someone else. But at some point, Vernon wanted it to become his. A subtle distinction.
YOU – Wait, what do you mean it wasn’t yours? Where did it come from?
SENSIBILITY – For a moment, Vernon hesitates, considering whether he wants to tell you at all.
VERNON ROCHE – Since you’re so curious… I’m afraid the story is rather mundane. On my way here, I happened to help catch a petty pickpocket. He was caught in the marketplace trying to cut the purse from some fat gentleman’s belt.
CODEX [Medium: Success] – Pickpockets like that are a veritable scourge upon law-abiding citizens. They’ve learned to lift valuables so deftly you may never even notice. And when they do get arrested, they’re usually released after a short stay in jail: they steal often, but deliberately keep the amounts small. In short, they’re small fry — too insignificant for anyone to bother with.
VERNON ROCHE – During the search, the guards and I found an expensive piece of jewelry on him. The little thief swore he couldn’t remember when or from whom he’d stolen the ring; all he kept saying was that it had happened in another city. So I confiscated it, hoping to find the rightful owner… But no one in Vizima had reported such a loss, which left us practically no chance of identifying them. I kept the ring with me, and now, as you can see, it has passed into good sir Garte’s hands and secured us a roof for the night. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Failure] – Does a ring stolen from a thief cease to be stolen? Best stay away from that question. It’s sticky somehow. Unpleasant.
DOMINANCE [Medium: Success] – Disgraceful conduct! The ring should have been turned over to the captain of the guard against a proper receipt. Sooner or later, the owner would have been found.
YOU – But isn’t that… a little irresponsible?
VERNON ROCHE – How very interesting to hear you say that. Yes, broadly speaking, it was irresponsible and not entirely lawful. And what would you have me do now? Take the ring back from Garte, hand it over to Captain Meis for safekeeping, and send you off to spend the night under a tree in the vacant lot? Or are you planning to file a complaint against me?
DIALECTIC – He seems to be saying all the right things, and yet somehow that doesn’t make him right. I don’t know how to explain it. Forget it.
YOU – No, it’s just…
VERNON ROCHE – The world, as you may have noticed, is not particularly fair. The fact is, the ring was already lost to its rightful owner, and you needed to settle your debt. We have successfully resolved that problem. I suggest we leave it at that.
YOU – Of course… Sorry.
NARRATOR – Vernon nods and turns back to the innkeeper.
VERNON ROCHE – Oh, and one more thing: please have dinner brought up to my room. As soon as possible, if you would.
NARRATOR – Garte nods vigorously and hurries through a side door that presumably leads to the kitchen. The ring seems to have put fresh energy into him. Roche turns back to you.
VERNON ROCHE – Forgive me, but I am completely exhausted. The past few days have been rather trying, and I believe they are catching up with me. With your permission, I shall have dinner in my room and retire early. Unless you have any urgent questions, let us postpone any further discussion of the investigation until morning. Besides, the coroner promised to send us his report tomorrow.