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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
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Chapter 23 - Drunks, Kids and Lunatics’ divine Protection
Soundtrack HoS - Whatsoever a Man Soweth...
https://youtu.be/RYj15aSzIGo
An hour after the count had left the chevalier’s house, Gernot was still brooding over his half filled glass. The count had efficiently ruined his chance to ride into Midville before the city gate’s closing. Damn. The wall would be no match for him once he got his rope and hook. He could always excuse himself to Kevin, tell him he needed to get laid right now and ride to the bathhouse, the young one would understand. Then turn to Jack because what was really needed here was an axe and precise brutal force as a backup. Or ask John what to do about door locks. He was sure the blacksmith knew all the tricks.
But did he have the stealth it took? Rose and Anastasia would be so pissed if they got wind of that sort of plan. The count reigned on behalf of the king and the divine. And all he could do about it, was sitting on his ass or getting them all killed.
Gernot stood, “Serve yourself; I need to step out and get some fresh air.” He transferred a candle into a lantern, hoisted his felt jacked over shoulders and buttoned it over his sweaty shirt. He felt dirty but wasn’t ready to turn in. He left the house through the backdoor and stood on the training ground. The moon shone on the pole embedded in the middle, cold light reflected on the iron chains. He felt the disgust again, remembered every question the witcher had asked and what Kevin had said. The young man behaved decently, but Gernot did not trust him. If he started kicking down the count’s doors, the guards would not be on his side. What then? Kill them all? He could not do that.
There was light in the upper floor of the lady’s wing that was in the center of the compound. There was an ornamental flower and rose garden with a central fountain embedded between the two wings of the buildings, with a terrace as wide as the ball room in the center of the house, where the count had invited to the banquet-turned-orgy that started it all. On the outside, the lord’s wing overlooked the outside wall and the kennels behind the barn. The outside of the lady’s wing’s overlooked the training ground and the chevalier’s house, though the curtains were usually drawn.
Gernot shook his head and wondered if John had a point of the countess seeing and knowing everything. She had the perfect view on any whipping at that pole. Or bare chest wrestling training. Or kicking a hunter’s guts. ‘No,’ he corrected himself. That had been her predecessor, the one confined in a monastery now because she had failed to produce an heir in due time.
He took a stroll around the lady’s wing and into the rose garden. The frost had withered most of the summer blooms, but the roses continued to produce flower buds. In the frozen moonlight, they no longer scented the air as they had on warm summer evenings. This garden had been a paradise for generations of nobility. But now, dry leaves were gathering in the fountain’s waters. It had to be drained or it would be cracked by the ice. Patches had to be cleared to prevent mold from spreading, the roses needed a cut back and protection made from green spruce branches. Hopefully, the steward would tell the carriers what to do since the gardener was gone.
The current countess had not interfered when the count ordered her employees to dress-up and chase a nymphet for their guest’s entertainment. Her handmaid had probably supplied the green makeup. The countess had not even withdrawn at the… let’s say, indecent display in front of the fountain. She was quite the upholder of moral standards, about as much as the Count was the security guarantee for his subjects.
Nevertheless they expected him to put his life into line when attacked. He would, not because they had his respect just because he could not bring down the whole system. It was too strong. It offered plenty of punishment, few rewards, but it kept his life in some sort of order. Many fared far worse than him.
There was still light in the countess rooms. They were most likely packing for the journey tomorrow.
What would happen if he knocked at her door, ask her pardon and say good night to his daughter to provide small talk, wonder about the gardener for her neglected roses to get to the point and further counsel her to interfere to her husband’s actions in her own wine cellar because he would safely guide her to Guleta in return?
Nothing. She would oblige her marriage contract and obey the count. That and her pregnancy would keep her position safe forever. If a slave suffered or even died because Milady did nothing? Nobody would ever mention it!
Gernot strolled along the garden path. His boots shuffled the wet gravel that shone white in the moon light. He went around the lord’s wing and checked the kennels. Adda and Bianca stood yawning and luxuriated in a stretch. What was up? Going out? Chips and Freckles also rose bringing the whole bunch of runners whining and wagging their tails. They were happy and honest and the hunter basked in their attention. Afterwards, he said good night and strolled through the barn as he saw it. His son, barefoot in his night gown stood in the middle of the court yard in front of the trough! Sean was with him, leaning his halberd to his shoulder as he swatted down... to talk? To pick him up?
Gernot was there in a blink, “Fabian, what are you doing out here? Why are you not in bed?”
“I was. But I cannot sleep,” the boy was tearful, “Cass is snoring and she says you have to leave tomorrow. I don’t want to be alone, dad!”
“You won’t be.” Gernot picked up Fabian. He was too big to be carried like a toddler, but Gernot settled him on his hip nevertheless… because he needed it. “Good evening, Sean,” he acknowledged the guard. Maybe they were still good for something. “Fabian will stay with me tonight. Please notify Cass once she wakes,” he huffed. No need to write the cook a letter and push it through under her door. She deserved that shock when she did not take care of things within the mansion.
In his dad’s room, Fabian calmed down at once. The cot was narrow, but at least there were no strange sounds coming from the cellar. He was too old to tell anybody how afraid he was of monsters under his bed or in the darkness of the cellars. But he could swear he heard something.
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded