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.
“Capital is dead labour, that, vampire-like, only lives by sucking living labour, and lives the more, the more labour it sucks.”
— Karl Marx, Capital, Volume I
NARRATOR – The rest of the journey passes in grim silence. Vernon walks a little ahead without turning around, and somehow his back says more than any curse could. Ahead lies the legendary Merchant Quarter: clean facades, expensive signs, windows with lace curtains, and people who know how to pretend that dirt exists only in poor neighborhoods.
FORTITUDE [Medium: Success] – Roche’s silence presses down on you like a heavy weight, but you endure it. Apparently, the training session with the bookcase was not entirely wasted.
MASQUE [Easy: Failure] – And yet, maestro, the matter of Mother Goose remains unresolved! The moment this stern warrior turns his back, you must immediately find Enna and discover the fate of the golden egg. True art calls!
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Don’t even think about saying that out loud. Just keep walking.
NARRATOR – So you keep walking. At last, you reach the gates leading into the Merchant Quarter. The passage is closely guarded, but the soldiers recognize Vernon and let you through without a single question. On the other side, the city changes abruptly. The streets are wider and cleaner, the houses taller, the signs more elaborate, and the townspeople passing by seem to be quietly assessing your ability to pay.
ARTISTRY [Medium: Success] – The Merchant Quarter is beautiful. But it is the beauty of a polished coin that has passed through far too many hands. It gleams… but is it truly clean? That is open to debate.
NARRATOR – Without slowing down, Vernon leads you farther on — past shops selling precious fabrics, offices with brass plaques, and houses that somehow make you feel awkward even approaching them. About ten minutes later, you stop in front of a luxurious mansion behind a high fence. A peacock wanders through the courtyard, while a little farther away two boys are playing: clean, well-fed, dressed in fine little suits. They could hardly look more different from the ragged children you saw by the fountain yesterday.
DIALECTIC [Trivial: Success] – Presumably, these are Leuvaarden’s younger children?
VICE [Challenging: Success] – And Jaskier said he has an older daughter too. Think you’ll get a chance to meet her? You absolutely must show off that irresistible grin of yours.
NARRATOR – Vernon snaps you out of your pleasant daydream.
VERNON ROCHE – Here we are. Before we go in, there is something we should discuss.
NARRATOR – Judging by his tone, Roche has cooled off somewhat, but one stupid move on your part would be enough to set him off again — like an arrow loosed from a longbow.
VERNON ROCHE – First, regarding the snuffbox we confiscated from good sir Tibald’s shop. I recognized the Leuvaarden family monogram on it immediately. There is very little room for doubt: the dead man most likely received it as a gift.
ARTISTRY [Easy: Success] – The snuffbox certainly looked expensive. Though the monogram could still have used a little more work.
VERNON ROCHE – Second… the merchant who lives in this house is an extremely influential man and a personal friend of the king. His family’s wealth is rivaled only by a handful of old Temerian houses and the Vivaldi clan — dwarves who own banks throughout the country. As I explained yesterday, pan Leuvaarden and his partners are conducting certain business operations in the Merchant Quarter, so he has a personal interest in seeing this investigation concluded as quickly as possible.
NARRATOR – You nod vigorously, making it abundantly clear that Vernon’s every word has your full attention.
FORTITUDE [Medium: Failure] – You should probably stop nodding like that before your vision starts to swim. Besides, you’re not a horse.
VERNON ROCHE – I will do the talking. You are to keep quiet unless the master of the house addresses you directly. Touch nothing, do not stray a single step from my side, and do not breathe wine fumes in the merchant’s face.
STEADINESS [Easy: Failure] – That was hurtful.
VERNON ROCHE – Bear in mind that pan Leuvaarden is a fox if ever there was one. His weapon is not a blade, but words: he can talk anyone around and charm them while he’s at it. We, however, need to stick to our own line, get clear answers, and, if possible, avoid becoming pawns in some shady business of his.
NARRATOR – Behind the fence, the peacock lets out a cry. It sounds like someone struggling to open a heavy cellar door with hinges that haven’t seen oil in years.
VERNON ROCHE – And please: if you happen to see a book about Mother Goose, just look the other way.
MASQUE [Easy: Success] – No, maestro. That was hurtful.
NARRATOR – Vernon approaches the hulking man stationed at the gate, shows him the letter of authority, and explains the purpose of the visit. In a surprisingly friendly tone, the man says that pan Leuvaarden has been eagerly awaiting you and will be ready to receive you in fifteen minutes.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Men of his importance usually arrange audiences several days in advance. This sort of eagerness means he really does want something from us.
NARRATOR – You are shown inside the mansion and invited into the study. A heavy writing desk stands in the middle of the room, with a broad leather chair behind it — clearly purchased by a man accustomed to spending entire days at his desk. Along the walls, bookcases stand in ranks like the king’s guards: just as tall as Tibald’s, only many times more expensive and with no obvious desire to collapse on top of you at the first opportunity.
KEEN EYE [Medium: Success] – Besides encyclopedias and reference works, the shelves hold ledgers and various documents.
NARRATOR – Heavy curtains of dark fabric hang over the windows. Paintings in gilded frames adorn the walls. The air smells of wood, expensive paper, leather, and the faintest trace of cognac. Wealth, but not vulgarity; the master of the house clearly has taste.
VERNON ROCHE – Well, it seems we’ll have to wait a little.
NARRATOR – The hulking guard leaves, but before long a gray-haired servant in a splendid doublet appears in the doorway. He looks the two of you over and greets you with dignified formality.
SERVANT – Good day, honored guests. Pan Leuvaarden will be here any moment now. May I offer you tea, coffee, or some light refreshments?
VERNON ROCHE – Just black coffee for me, please. Thank you.
NARRATOR – You stare open-mouthed at the richly dressed servant, thinking that he would look perfectly at home even on a royal throne. Vernon jabs you painfully in the ribs with his elbow.
YOU – Ah, yes… Coffee for me too. Thank you.
SERVANT – As you wish. In the meantime, please take a seat in the fotel and wait a little.
CODEX [Challenging: Failure] – Sit in the what?..
NARRATOR – Vernon settles into a comfortable armchair opposite the desk and gestures for you to do the same.
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – Presumably, that’s the fotel.
NARRATOR – You sink so deeply into the soft seat that it feels as though the chair is trying to swallow you whole. A minute later, the servant returns with a tray bearing two immaculately white porcelain cups. He sets the coffee on a small table, bows, and withdraws without a word.
DEFTNESS [Easy: Success] – The important thing is to pick up the cup very carefully. Don’t squeeze too hard. Don’t drop it. It’s frightening to imagine how much the thing might cost.
NARRATOR – You quietly sip the coffee, which proves rich and aromatic. At last, the door swings open again, and a tall, portly gentleman glides leisurely into the study, dressed in something resembling an embroidered robe. A purple bonnet sits proudly on his head, a massive gold medallion rests upon his chest, and his feet are tucked into fluffy dark-brown slippers.
KEEN EYE [Easy: Success] – The medallion bears exactly the same monogram as the snuffbox. Roche was right.
NARRATOR – Your companion rises and bows to the newcomer, who is evidently the master of the house. The man merely nods and gives a grand wave of one plump, well-kept hand, inviting you both to sit and dispense with the formalities. Leuvaarden looks to be around fifty. He is bald, clean-shaven, round-faced, and smiling; his small eyes are bright and even slightly mischievous.
KEEN EYE – If you stood him next to the gray-haired pan who brought the coffee, you would probably assume that the servant owned the house and represented the influential clan. This portly gentleman, meanwhile, looks more like a moderately successful shopkeeper. The sort of good-natured uncle who likes to spoil his nephews with pies and sweets.
DISCERNMENT [Medium: Success] – And yet there is an unmistakable sense of dignity and authority about him. Leuvaarden is clearly no simple man… Which is only to be expected of someone of his standing. Do not let the smile fool you.
NARRATOR – The gentleman in the robe lowers himself heavily into his chair and gives you another broad smile. He resembles a gigantic cat that has long since stopped needing to catch its own mice. When the merchant begins to speak in a purring voice, the resemblance only grows stronger.
LEUVAARDEN – Good day, my friends! I am honored that you have graced me with a visit. My name is Declan Leuvaarden. Of the Leuvaardens.
NARRATOR – He gives you a conspiratorial wink.
WHISPER [Challenging: Failure] – Is that some kind of catchphrase? His signature way of introducing himself? Or were you supposed to fall to your knees and cry, “Ah yes, those Leuvaardens!”?
VERNON ROCHE – Good day, pan Leuvaarden. My name is—
NARRATOR – The merchant lazily raises a hand. This time, the gesture calls for silence.
LEUVAARDEN – Pan Roche, I know perfectly well who you are. How could I possibly fail to recognize a hero of Temeria, our very own knight without fear and beyond reproach! We have never been formally introduced, but I saw you at the award ceremony in the palace.
ELOQUENCE [Easy: Success] – Leuvaarden really does juggle words with remarkable skill. And he seems perfectly sincere about the whole “knight without fear and beyond reproach” business. Is Roche really that famous?
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – The compliment sounds pleasant enough… Though it does bring to mind oiling a door’s hinges so it opens without too much creaking.
NARRATOR – The merchant turns his gaze to you.
LEUVAARDEN – And you, of course, must be pan Gervant… Oh, no. My sincerest apologies.
UMBRA [Impossible: Success] – What did he call you? What kind of strange name is that? It means nothing to you. Nothing stirs.
NARRATOR – The fat man pulls a few papers from a desk drawer and spends some time searching through them, running a finger down the lines. At last, he looks up again.
LEUVAARDEN – A slip of the tongue, of course. Please, don’t take offense! There are simply a thousand matters demanding my attention at once. Lately, everything has been such a madhouse that a man could forget his own name.
NARRATOR – He chuckles and watches you intently. Like a fisherman waiting eagerly for the float to twitch.
WHISPER [Challenging: Success] – Wait. Did Leuvaarden get the name wrong on purpose? Was he expecting to be corrected? If so… he knows far more about you than you do yourself. An unpleasant discovery.
NARRATOR – You glance briefly at Roche. He sits as still as a statue, but his fingers are clasped tightly together.
LEUVAARDEN – In any case, a pleasure to meet you, Geralt of Rivia. What a remarkable pair: the valiant commander of the Blue Stripes and a witcher celebrated in ballads. You complement each other splendidly!
UMBRA – The name still means nothing to you. Perhaps the merchant simply made it up? At this point, anything seems possible.
NARRATOR – The soft chair begins to swallow you even deeper. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you sink into a deadly swamp that smells of expensive leather.
ELOQUENCE [Easy: Failure] – You should probably say something along the lines of… Hmm…
NARRATOR – The merchant continues to bore into you with his gaze, waiting for some kind of reaction.
ELOQUENCE – Think… What do people usually say in situations like this?..
NARRATOR – Declan begins tapping one finger rhythmically against the desk.
RESOLVE [Challenging: Failure] – It feels as though your heart is starting to beat in time with each tap. Thump-thump-thump…
NARRATOR – The chair catches you and carries you away on warm waves toward some unknown distance. The sunlit room, the heavy curtains, the scent of wood and cognac — everything suddenly becomes too soft, too thick, cloying as slow-pouring molasses.
RESOLVE – You have to say something… anything. But you can’t make yourself open your mouth. Everything before your eyes begins to swim.
LEUVAARDEN – Pan Geralt! Pan Geralt, what is the matter? Are you feeling unwell? Let me call the servants and have them bring some water.
NARRATOR – The merchant waves his hands, trying to get your attention. You continue melting into the chair, turning into something not unlike jelly.
VERNON ROCHE – Please excuse my partner. Unfortunately, over the past few days he has been suffering from… strange episodes. I am truly very sorry.
LEUVAARDEN – Nonsense, nonsense! We are all friends here, and I understand perfectly well how dangerous a witcher’s life can be. And those potions of yours… Surely they cannot be doing the body any favors.
FORTITUDE [Challenging: Success] – Damn it, pull yourself together! Sit up straight, lift your head, before you start drooling. He’s already hinting that regular potion use has turned you into a half-wit.
NARRATOR – With a desperate effort, you straighten up and shake off the spell.
YOU – My apologies, pan Leuvaarden — just a little dizziness from the heat. But why did you call me “Geralt of Rivia”?
LEUVAARDEN – I’m glad to see you’ve recovered! And quite right: why bother with formalities? I’ll simply call you “Geralt,” and you may call me “Declan.” Just like old friends!
YOU – But my name isn’t Geralt…
WHISPER [Challenging: Success] – That was a mistake.
NARRATOR – The merchant, who had been watching your efforts to sit up straighter with great interest, raises his eyebrows.
LEUVAARDEN – What are you saying, Geralt? That is unquestionably your name — it could hardly be otherwise! I have a dossier right here: everything about your life. Your brave adventures, if you will.
NARRATOR – He pats the papers on the desk almost affectionately.
UMBRA [Challenging: Failure] – This fat man knows EVERYTHING about you. And you know NOTHING about yourself. What a nightmare. Your life lies before him on the desk, neatly copied out in someone else’s hand. Exposed. Naked.
YOU – So that really is my name? And I’m from… Rivia? Is that where my home is?
SENSIBILITY [Medium: Success] – Now Leuvaarden is genuinely puzzled. You actually managed to surprise him. For all of one second.
LEUVAARDEN – Remarkable… So the rumors are true? You really have lost your memory? How dreadful…
NARRATOR – He wipes his brow, looking almost sincerely concerned.
LEUVAARDEN – Yes, Geralt, that name unquestionably belongs to you and no one else. As for your home, I’m afraid I don’t have any precise information. The dossier does mention some sort of witcher stronghold…
NARRATOR – Declan peers closely at the document.
LEUVAARDEN – Ah, and here it says that on several occasions, while traveling incognito, you introduced yourself as Ravix of Fourhorn. Perhaps that’s where you live? Who knows…
MASQUE [Challenging: Success] – Oh no, maestro, surely there must be something in there about Sir Andrzej Ambroise de Beaupré?! That simply cannot be!
YOU – Does it say… what kind of witcher I am?
NARRATOR – The merchant does not seem in the least surprised by such a vague question. He merely half-closes his eyes contentedly, as though you had asked about his favorite kind of sweet wine.
LEUVAARDEN – Hmm… As I mentioned, a rather famous one.
NARRATOR – He picks up the parchment again and reads aloud with solemn importance.
LEUVAARDEN – The White Wolf, also known as the Butcher of Blaviken. Hmm, what a peculiar nickname… A close friend of several sorceresses, and even kings… Good heavens! Hero of countless thrilling tales… Though lately — again, according to rumor — you seem to have developed a taste for self-flagellation. My friend, I strongly advise giving that up. Try to take a brighter view of life; I am convinced your memories will return sooner or later…
UMBRA – The White Wolf? Butcher? Friend of kings? Hero? It feels as though someone is trying to hang another man’s medals on you. They gleam and clink, but bring no joy; all you feel is the weight in your chest.
NARRATOR – Vernon, who until now has been silently studying the pattern in the carpet, suddenly interrupts his host’s monologue.
VERNON ROCHE – Tell me, where did you obtain this information?
LEUVAARDEN – Oh, pan Roche, believe me: I have sources of my own. I am a man of influence, and there is much I can accomplish. Capital, you see, has a remarkable ability to open the most intricate locks and uncover the best-hidden secrets.
NARRATOR – He purrs the last words with utterly indescribable self-satisfaction.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Translation: he buys loyalty, information, and silence. Not necessarily in that order.
LEUVAARDEN – Incidentally, I also know about another unfortunate predicament you’ve managed to get yourself into, dear Geralt.
STEADINESS [Challenging: Failure] – Oh no. Is he really going to keep torturing you like this?!
NARRATOR – The merchant seems to notice your hunted expression.
LEUVAARDEN – Yes, yes, I am of course referring to your missing swords. A serious loss, without question.
STEADINESS – Damn it, soon the whole city will be talking about those cursed swords! How is it that you’re the only one who knows nothing and remembers nothing???
DOMINANCE [Challenging: Success] – Pull. Yourself. Together. Panic will only make things worse.
LEUVAARDEN – But don’t worry, pan witcher: the best investigators are already on the case. If necessary, they’ll turn the whole city upside down. We wouldn’t want your weapons falling into the wrong hands, would we?
NARRATOR – With some effort, you part your dry lips.
YOU – About an hour ago, we established that the swords were apparently bought from the junk dealer by an unknown elderly pani.
LEUVAARDEN – Ah, good sir Geralt, I see you haven’t been idle! Don’t worry, my people will take that detail into account as well. The moment any information turns up, rest assured: I shall let you know at once. Until then…
NARRATOR – He folds his hands in front of him and narrows his eyes contentedly. Vernon shifts to the very edge of his chair.
LEUVAARDEN – Until then, there is another little matter we ought to settle. I’m sure it will be a mere trifle for you.
REFLEX [Easy: Success] – There it is. Exactly what Vernon warned you about.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Precisely. Now you’re in his pocket. Leuvaarden is already doing you a favor, even though you never asked for one. And now comes the favor in return. Pray to every god you know that it doesn’t involve anything too blatantly criminal.
LEUVAARDEN – You see, one of my many business interests is connected with the port here in the Temple Quarter. All manner of cargo passes through it before being shipped on to other cities and countries. Grain, salt, fabrics, metals, alchemical ingredients… It is a major transport artery.
DIALECTIC [Easy: Success] – …through which an insane amount of money flows. And he has latched onto that artery with remarkable skill.
LEUVAARDEN – Naturally, the port itself is merely the visible tip of a vast iceberg. There are warehouses, loading crews, insurance obligations, promissory notes, caravan guards, customs permits… In short, an entire system. Rather fragile, when you think about it.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – Translation: whoever controls the port has the whole city by the throat. Rich people simply call that throat “logistics.”
VERNON ROCHE – What exactly are you getting at, pan Leuvaarden? No offense intended, but we came here to discuss a murder.
NARRATOR – The fat man stops him again with a gentle gesture. The way one might push an overbold kitten away from a dish of red fish.
LEUVAARDEN – We shall certainly come to that matter. In due course.
WHISPER – In other words, interrupting him is pointless. Your task for now is simple: sit quietly and listen. Preferably without looking as though the chair is slowly digesting you.
LEUVAARDEN – You need to understand the broader picture. Without it, many things may appear far simpler than they really are. As I already mentioned, the port is of immense importance both to Vizima and to me personally.
REFLEX [Medium: Success] – At least he put Vizima first.
LEUVAARDEN – The trouble is that lately someone has been making a very active attempt to claim a share of this pie. Hardly surprising: it is an exceedingly appetizing pie.
DIALECTIC – Naturally. It all comes down to a struggle over cash flows. Of course he and his associates have no intention of sharing. In polite society, this is called not greed, but the defense of legitimate interests.
LEUVAARDEN – Don’t misunderstand me, gentlemen, I have nothing against healthy competition!
WHISPER – What that actually means is: “The last thing I want is any competition whatsoever.”
LEUVAARDEN – But the real question is what methods are being used. And in this case, I must say, the methods hardly seem aboveboard. According to the information available to me, the drug trade has flourished in the Temple Quarter. Raw materials are smuggled in from the southern countries, while skilled alchemists in Vizima’s underground laboratories turn them into a finished product that has quite literally flooded the streets.
VICE [Easy: Success] – Now that is excellent news! It means getting hold of some fisstech for personal use should be easy enough. Make that a priority at the first opportunity!
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – Perhaps Kalkstein knows something about these underground laboratories?
LEUVAARDEN – There is no question that drugs are an evil. Dockworkers get hooked on fisstech, their work suffers, and before long they need a constant supply of the stuff.
DIALECTIC [Medium: Success] – And they are also quite willing to go work for whoever can provide those doses regularly. In other words, for whoever, to borrow Declan’s phrase, is “trying to claim a share of the pie.”
LEUVAARDEN – Deadlines are missed, cargo spoils, thefts multiply, the crews fight among themselves… But that is only half the trouble.
NARRATOR – He pauses and shakes his head sadly.
LEUVAARDEN – Eventually, this filth reaches children. Children, gentlemen! Just think of it. Boys sink to stealing so they can scrape together a few coppers for a pinch of powder made by gods know who from gods know what. Ten-year-old girls sell fisstech at night outside the vilest dens in the city.
DISCERNMENT [Medium: Success] – The drug problem genuinely troubles him. But concern for the children comes last on his list of reasons.
DIALECTIC – Or perhaps he sees it as yet another business opportunity. Illegal, filthy, but potentially extremely profitable. If you can’t stop it, take control of it.
LEUVAARDEN – So, we believe that whoever is trying by fair means or foul to force us out of the port is the very same scoundrel who controls the drug trade. Once he gains control of the warehouses and customs permits, he will be able to bring in raw materials almost openly. Naturally, this is not a matter you can simply ignore.
NARRATOR – To lend weight to his words, Declan taps a fist against the desk. Lightly.
DIALECTIC – Well, his theory is clear enough. Someone made a fortune selling fisstech and is now putting that capital to work in an attempt to seize control of the port. Money, as they say, has to work.
SENSIBILITY [Challenging: Failure] – It’s hard to tell which parts of Leuvaarden’s story are true, which are conjecture, and which are carefully veiled lies. You can’t get a read on him.
VERNON ROCHE – I agree that the drug trade is an unquestionable evil, but dealing with it is the city guard’s responsibility. Why not take the matter to Vincent Meis? What exactly do you need us for?
LEUVAARDEN – Ah, good old Vincent…
NARRATOR – He wags a finger in the air, as though mentally scolding the captain.
LEUVAARDEN – You ask the right question: why is the guard doing nothing? Why are there no raids, no searches of suspicious warehouses? They display truly remarkable shortsightedness and indecision. Why do petty fisstech dealers vanish before every raid, as though someone were kind enough to warn them in advance? How can that be?
DIALECTIC [Easy: Failure] – Indeed. How can that be? Perhaps they’re simply frightened?
BOND OF STEEL [Challenging: Success] – Somewhere deep in the Temple Quarter, guards Jurajda and Janusz walk past an unremarkable house with boarded-up windows. “Listen, Jurajda, this place looks pretty suspicious to me. Strange people are always coming and going, and there’s often some foul stink drifting up from the cellar.” “What, is this your first day on the job? That’s that house.” “Ah… That one.” The guards exchange knowing nods and continue their patrol, carefully ignoring the telltale smell.
LEUVAARDEN – The answer, I suspect, is fairly obvious.
NARRATOR – The purring drops into a lower register.
LEUVAARDEN – The guard has no interest in putting a stop to it, and Captain Meis is keen to preserve the status quo because he has… a financial incentive. That is precisely why I have been forced to turn to you.
WHISPER – In effect, Declan is accusing the captain of the guard of taking bribes. That makes Vincent’s reaction to your visit yesterday easier to understand: perhaps he is afraid his shady dealings might come to light.
VERNON ROCHE – That is a serious accusation, pan Leuvaarden. We will try to gather information, but do not expect miracles. Especially since our primary task lies elsewhere.
LEUVAARDEN – Naturally! You are unlikely to put an end to the drug trade altogether, but gathering evidence and testimony is another matter… Now, as for your “primary task.” Everything has become rather strangely intertwined, and I did not spend all this time bringing you up to speed without good reason.
NARRATOR – Leuvaarden produces a decanter and glass from somewhere beneath the desk and splashes a measure of amber liquid into the glass. After taking a drink, he continues, now with almost none of the purr left in his voice.
LEUVAARDEN – Does the name “Grave” mean anything to you?
VERNON ROCHE – It does. King of the Temple Quarter underworld. A thief-in-law.
LEUVAARDEN – Precisely. There is reason to believe that this uncrowned king is the one running the drug network. Worse still, he has managed to build a genuine organization, with something resembling cells in other cities as well. Grave has worked his way into Vizima’s very life cycle like a parasite, and he cannot simply be… torn out.
SENSIBILITY [Medium: Success] – He says the last words with something close to disgust.
LEUVAARDEN – His Majesty could order the entire quarter cordoned off, send in troops, find this scoundrel, and have him arrested. But first, technically speaking, he is clean in the eyes of the law. And second, such measures could lead to mass unrest and bloodshed, since many of the local dockworkers, merchants, vagrants, beggars, and assorted idlers support Grave. To them, he is not a criminal but a keeper of order.
DIALECTIC – The people of the Temple Quarter place little faith in the law or the king’s grace. So they seek protection from the one man capable of maintaining at least some semblance of “normality.” Grave makes sense to them. He is someone they understand.
LEUVAARDEN – Third, it would deal a severe blow to freight traffic. The crews would scatter, the warehouses would be left unguarded… And that, gentlemen, would mean losses not only for me, but for the entire city.
WHISPER – Notice how, the moment lost revenue entered the conversation, the merchant’s voice became far more mournful than when he was talking about unfortunate children buying powder.
LEUVAARDEN – My business associates and I made the difficult decision to open negotiations. We needed to understand what this Grave actually wants, and whether some relatively peaceful coexistence might be possible. At least for a while.
VERNON ROCHE – Meaning until you find a reliable way to remove him?
LEUVAARDEN – Heh-heh… Those are your words, pan Roche. But of course, I am not asking you to “remove” anyone.
NARRATOR – He waves the notion away, as though eager to chase the sinister word out of the room.
LEUVAARDEN – In the end, we sent an emissary into the Temple Quarter to test the waters. Chevalier Bastien Lavelle was chosen for the task — I doubt you’ve heard of him, as he always preferred to remain in the shadows. An old friend, a reliable man, an experienced negotiator… and, I should add, a capable fighter.
BOND OF STEEL [Easy: Success] – Vernon goes taut, like a tiger preparing to spring. Now he is listening far more closely. At last, you’ve reached the heart of the matter.
VERNON ROCHE – When exactly was the emissary sent?
LEUVAARDEN – Six days ago. Early in the evening, around five or six. Good sir Grave keeps rather peculiar hours and usually receives visitors closer to nightfall.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – An obvious conclusion suggests itself, but don’t rush. Conclusions that seem too obvious often lead straight into a trap.
LEUVAARDEN – And the next morning, word came that Bastien had been found hanged on a vacant lot near some wretched tavern. Needless to say, suspicion immediately fell on Grave’s men.
DIALECTIC – That is precisely the conclusion we should not rush into. The whole thing fits together a little too conveniently. But think about it: why kill an envoy? What would that achieve besides attracting unwanted attention?
NARRATOR – Your head begins to throb from the sheer number of thoughts. Lately, instead of using it for thinking, you’ve mostly been pouring wine into it.
LEUVAARDEN – You should know that Bastien left behind a younger brother named Armand — a knight of the Order of the Chalice, veteran of several military campaigns, and a brawler of the first order. He has been the loudest in accusing Grave and swears that if no other suspect is found, he will kill the thief-in-law with his own hands.
BRAWN [Medium: Success] – Now that’s more like it! Real men ought to solve every problem exactly this way!
LEUVAARDEN – Unfortunately, these are not empty threats. Armand commands one of the order’s banners, which means he has a band of equally reckless daredevils at his disposal — men capable of almost anything. Including taking the field against enemies many times their number.
CODEX [Challenging: Success] – The Order of the Chalice arose during one of the Northern Wars, when ravaged settlements were left defenseless and the roads filled with marauders. Its brothers swore to protect civilians, pilgrims, and convoys carrying food. The chalice on their coat of arms symbolizes shelter, sustenance, and safety — things that should be offered to anyone in need.
YOU – And how large is this order? How many men could Armand realistically have under his command?
CODEX – The order is small and does not maintain a large army. Its brothers are organized into small banners capable of operating independently. Armand’s unit probably numbers five to eight men. But bear in mind that they are exceptionally well equipped and highly skilled fighters.
NARRATOR – Vernon sighs and massages his temples.
VERNON ROCHE – The only thing missing from this picture now is a band of vigilantes. Could you perhaps rein this Armand in, pan Leuvaarden? If he marches into the Temple Quarter armed for battle, I cannot guarantee his safety.
NARRATOR – Leuvaarden throws up his hands and shakes his head.
LEUVAARDEN – “Rein him in”? Pan Roche… You must understand that I have no right to put Armand on a leash like some dog. Yes, he is young and hot-blooded, but he is a grown man who makes his own decisions.
VERNON ROCHE – It would still be worth trying to talk to him…
LEUVAARDEN – Of course I spoke to him. I explained that, noble as his intentions may be, this is no solution. The gods know I have very little affection for Grave, but if knights march into the Temple Quarter and start killing the locals, even in the name of justice… there will be a riot. Perhaps even a civil war; we know for certain that enemy agents are actively spreading propaganda and stirring up the population. No, panowie, I cannot allow that.
BOND OF STEEL [Challenging: Success] – Bernard Ducat sits in his modest office behind a narrow desk buried under complaints, denunciations, and reports that no sane person would ever read voluntarily. A spy stands before him, delivering the daily briefing.
SPY – Good sir Ducat, Leuvaarden has managed to keep Armand Lavelle from doing anything rash so far. But it won’t last. The knight-captain is gathering his men and swears he’ll go to Grave personally if his brother’s killers aren’t found soon.
BOND OF STEEL – Ducat gives the spy a long, dark look from beneath his brows. His face plainly expresses everything he thinks about people who bring him fresh problems toward the end of the day.
BERNARD DUCAT – Fucking marvelous. Armed Chalice knights in the Temple Quarter — that’s all we fucking needed. Every goddamned knight, for some reason, has to make some grandiose fucking speech first and then wave his sword at everyone. I suspect it’s how they compensate for the miserable size of their cocks.
SPY – Let us hope the detectives they sent manage to sort everything out before matters take an ugly turn.
BERNARD DUCAT – Hope is for priests and fucking idiots. Send someone to Captain Meis. Tell him to keep his eyes open and his men ready. Just in case. Kurwa… fucking Lavelle.
BOND OF STEEL – The spy gives a short bow and disappears through the door. Left alone amid the mountain of paperwork, Ducat scratches his bald head and mutters a filthy curse.
YOU – That’s a rather infernal picture…
LEUVAARDEN – Perhaps. But if you think I care only for my own well-being, that is not so: the Leuvaarden clan has always served Temeria faithfully.
NARRATOR – Declan solemnly places a hand over his chest.
LEUVAARDEN – But what would you have me do? Demand Armand’s arrest? On what grounds? He hasn’t actually done anything. Yes, he talks a great deal, but so what? People are generally prone to talking a great deal. The king has no time to involve himself in these complications at present. His Majesty is occupied with matters of state — in particular, difficult negotiations with Redania.
RESOLVE [Medium: Failure] – How did you end up mixed up in all of this? The interests of wealthy men, drugs, riots, enemy propaganda, some kind of backroom maneuvering…
LEUVAARDEN – Alas, there is one more thing.
RESOLVE – Gods… There’s more?!
LEUVAARDEN – My agents report that the locals have been complaining about some monster supposedly roaming the Temple Quarter at night — one that may have killed Lavelle. Personally, I suspect idle gossip, but all the same, it is fortunate that we happen to have an experienced witcher among us.
NARRATOR – Declan gives you a slight bow.
LEUVAARDEN – And now, my dear friends, that is everything. I have honestly shared all the information at my disposal. As you can see, you have every reason to investigate Grave’s involvement — including his role in the drug trade. If there is anything else I can do to assist, please, do not hesitate to ask.
NARRATOR – Vernon remains silent for a minute, making notes in his journal, then raises his eyes to the merchant.
VERNON ROCHE – So, Bastien Lavelle disappeared six days ago, sometime after five o’clock. Do you know whether he actually managed to meet with Grave?
LEUVAARDEN – I have no idea. I’m afraid you’ll have to determine that for yourselves.
VERNON ROCHE – Perhaps he had enemies of some kind? Had he received any threats?
NARRATOR – Declan sighs and continues with mild irritation.
LEUVAARDEN – Everyone who plays the dangerous game called “big business” has enemies of some kind, pan Roche. But Bastien had no sworn foes who wanted him dead.
WHISPER [Medium: Success] – In theory, Armand might have had enemies of that sort — people who, unable to get at the younger brother, decided to kill the elder one instead.
VERNON ROCHE – Do you think the Scoia’tael could somehow be involved?
NARRATOR – Declan’s expression darkens, and he turns thoughtfully toward the window.
LEUVAARDEN – To be frank, we did consider that possibility. And indeed, could some elf fired by revolutionary zeal have killed a man simply because he was well dressed? Committed, so to speak, an act of terror…
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – He means the tactic of individual terror.
LEUVAARDEN – In theory, it is possible, though it seems unlikely. Bear in mind that I personally have no sympathy for all this racist nonsense. My enterprises employ humans, elves, and members of other races alike. If you do decide to investigate an elven connection, please proceed with the utmost care. The last thing we need is a pogrom in the ghetto.
VERNON ROCHE – Very well. One last question: was Bastien by any chance involved in some sort of affair with a woman?
WHISPER – Unexpected, but actually a rather interesting question. Even if there was a woman, though, it’s not yet clear where that line of reasoning might lead.
NARRATOR – For a moment, Leuvaarden stops smiling. Just long enough for you both to notice the empty space where all that courtesy had been a second before.
LEUVAARDEN – Forgive me, but we never discussed matters of that sort. I make a point of not prying into my friends’ affairs of the heart.
SENSIBILITY [Challenging: Failure] – It’s impossible to tell whether he’s lying. Perhaps he’s simply avoiding the question.
NARRATOR – Vernon nods and rises from the chair.
VERNON ROCHE – In that case, we have no further questions for now, pan Leuvaarden. Thank you for your time. As soon as we have new information, we will return.
LEUVAARDEN – Oh, think nothing of it! The doors of this house are always open to you, gentlemen. Don’t worry about the swords: my people will do what they can. And do remember our little arrangement.
NARRATOR – The merchant winks again and raises his glass as though making a toast. You bow and leave the study. The same gray-haired servant escorts you all the way to the exit. Just as you reach the gate, he suddenly holds out a small pouch.
SERVANT – Here, sir. Please take this. Pan Leuvaarden instructed me to give it to you as a gesture of goodwill, and in consideration of your… financial difficulties. Thank you for visiting, and have a pleasant day.
NARRATOR – The elderly servant walks briskly away. You stare blankly at the weighty pouch that has just been pressed into your palm.
VICE [Easy: Success] – Oh, what a gift from fate! There must be at least a hundred orens in there. Plenty to spend on a proper night out!
VERNON ROCHE – Wonderful. And to top it all off, pan Leuvaarden has seen fit to grace you with a bribe. Congratulations.
ELOQUENCE [Medium: Failure] – Tell him it’s not a bribe, merely a temporary stabilization of your… liquidity. No. Better not.
VERNON ROCHE – It’s time to return to the Temple Quarter and take stock of this long and rather peculiar conversation.