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Wet Cherry of Truth	By : uztre Category: +S through Z > Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Views: 96308 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own or claim ownership of or make any profit of any of the characters or other elements of The Witcher 3 contained within the story.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
Summary:
After months of searching, Geralt and Vesemir make their way to White Orchard where they learn that Yennefer was last seen speaking with the Nilfgaardian captain weeks ago before she raced off to Vizima. Typical for the witchers, both men get in trouble and pulled over by a nilfgaardian escort led by no less a person than Morvran Voorhis. Shortly afterward, both witchers get split up and Geralt even attends a personal meeting with the Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. With neither having Yennefer nor Ciri found yet, the white wolf heads off to Velen to change this matter of fact, not knowing that everything is going to change forever.
Tags: No sex, Roach (her presence is enough to make every non-erotic scene overflow with sexiness pure)
Notes:
- Spell-checked on June 17, 2018
After one sharp pirouette to the left and then to the right side, the deadly witchers' swords cut through the ratbags' body parts like a knife through butter. Impossible to parry or to dodge. Blood splatter through the air of the tavern in torrents as much as some wrenched off legs and heads. The old female innkeeper sobbed at the bloody sight when the patron next to her fetched up on to the crates and tables, vigorously bracing himself against what was left and halfway in good order and not chopped up already into pieces like all the remaining furniture.

The fight ended as quickly as it began. With Geralt sheathing his sword and Vesemir doing the same, an eerie silence fell over the place and the scene of the massacre slowly but steadily revealed its grim and brutal ambiance. The white wolf's face didn't distort a bit, radiating apathy and insensitivity in a situation full of utmost brutality, as he gazed down and recognized the female peasant who was actually the major reason for this violence and bloodshed.

"It's alright, it's over," Geralt stated calmly and stretched his helping hand out to her.

"Leave me be! Go away," countered the scared woman, then turned around and crawled away, making the witcher's face contort in sadness. He was helping and saving people's lives over and over again and at the end, they were only offering grudge and repulsion.

"See his face. Gods save us!" An unknown man yelled from the corner.

"Begone and don't ever come back!" The female innkeeper ordered and stirred out behind the counter, barely being able to look at both so-called mutants. Geralt felt sore, somehow. He only wanted to help them. It wasn't him who began the fight, neither Vesemir, who stepped closer and grabbed Geralt at his shoulder.

"So much for not getting involved. C'mon, let's go," he expressed in an undertone of irony and annoyance, signalized that they should go and leave this place now. After they made their way to White Orchard where they learned from a man called Gaunter O'Dimm that Yennefer was last seen speaking with the Nilfgaardian captain weeks ago before she raced off. Immediately, Geralt went off and met the captain who agreed to tell him where Yennefer went in exchange for ridding the town of a griffin that had recently been attacking villagers on the main road. After examining the beast's nest and setting a trap for the griffin, Geralt defeated the creature with the help of Vesemir, only to hear that the raven-haired sorceress had just ridden on to Vizima.

And that was the very place both planned to head on next.

As Geralt and Vesemir stepped outside, however, they saw a patrol of four nilfgaardian heavy soldiers on the road few feet away, looking sternly at them. Both experienced monster slayers instantly knew that this whole situation could ultimately complicate their lives.

"That brawl... we didn't start it," Geralt admitted, his words sounding like a bad excuse.

"Is this the typical way you deal with your problems and enemies, witcher?" A voice suddenly echoed behind the soldiers and a man advanced two steps and revealed himself. Both witchers bandied looks, asking themselves who he could be, having combed dark blond hair, fine black clothing mixed with armored pants and gloves, and a long, golden pendant revealing the famous nilfgaardian sun.

Something was telling both witchers that this man was important.

"This is a... big misunderstanding, actually," Vesemir stated carefully.

"Ah, typical words of thieves and thugs. How original."

"Who are you?" Geralt asked straightforward, fondling his arms.

The man frowned. "Morvran Voorhis, commander of the Alba Division. I'm here to deliver you an invitation of our emperor Emhyr var Emreis himself and escort you to Vizima, witcher."

"Invitation for what? And will be Yennefer there too?"

"I guess you'll have to found out," the general clarified.

Geralt heaved a deep, annoying sigh and turned himself to Vesemir.

"What about you?"

"I will go to the opposite direction. I somehow doubt that the emperor's invitation goes for me as well. Besides I got things to do in Kaer Morhen."

"Yeah, I remember," Geralt said and nodded. "Thanks for your help, Vesemir. See you soon."

After respectfully making his farewells, the white wolf caught up with Morvran who was already sitting on his warhorse. "How is your own horse, witcher?"

"Can't complain," Geralt replied and whistled with his fingers as the famous Roach appeared on the top of the inn's roof and gazed down at him. The soldiers and the general laughed lustily at the sight. "Dammit. What the hell are you doing up there, Roach? Get down again!"

The chestnut mare neighed in disapproval.

"You're behaving yourself ridiculous. Now jump, dammit!"

Even as it seemed that Roach was refusing Geralt's order once more, the maverick mare flexed her long legs and soared into the air like an eagle before she elegantly landed on her hooves. Neighing like the very empress herself, Roach indicated her owner and best friend to finally saddle up and leave this place. Sometimes, Geralt was really thinking that his horse was much smarter than it bade fair to.

"Can we now or what, witcher?"

"Yeah, yeah," the white wolf muttered and made himself comfortable on his mare's back.

Following the nilfgaardian escort and the general, the entire group headed in the direction of the former capital of Temeria while exchanging any word. Many different thoughts crossed Geralt's mind. What had Yennefer to do with the nilfgaardians and even with the emperor himself? Last time when he met Emhyr, he wanted to see him dead. Did he change his mind?

And why did a highly decorated nilfgaardian general come for him and not Yennefer as she told him in her own letter?

Nothing of all this made sense to Geralt, but he decided to play along as long as it was necessary and his path was leading closer to his very raven-haired sorceress of Vengerberg he was so particularly looking for in recent days and weeks. Besides, the witcher couldn't get rid of the awkward feeling in his chest that all this was going to go beyond a simple reunion at the end. A topic of much greater relevance was awaiting him in Vizima.

And his gut instincts were telling Geralt that all this had to do something with the one person he was caring about more than anyone or anything else in his life: Ciri.

The Wild Hunt couldn't be far...
After eighteen hours of quiet riding and contemplation, they had finally reached the occupied Vizima and Geralt was immediately ushered into his personal chamber with no sign of Yennefer far and wide and explanation what was going to happen next. Before the witcher could ask, Morvran Voorhis strutted outside, leaving him alone on the spot.

"Nilfgaardian hospitality... my a--" Geralt cursed to himself, as the door got open and an unknown, old man walked in, arms fondling behind his back and face straight.

"Ah, the gentleman has finally arrived. I'm the emperor's first chamberlain and here to..." His eyes went up and down, mesmerizing the witcher's entire look and outfit in typical nilfgaardian dislike. "Here to make sure that the gentleman is complying with the requirements of the royal courtesy before he meets the Excellency himself. I suggest you take your bath first. The tub there is already filled and warm. In the meantime, I will make further preparation."

"Where is Yennefer? Hey!" Geralt yelled but the chamberlain just turned around and left him like the general before. Having the urge to run after this time, the witcher was stopped as three attractive maids entered the chamber, smiling innocently. They surrounded Geralt and accomplished to take his clothes off without bandying a word. Feeling helpless and outnumbered, the naked witcher looked on how the young maids pulled him over and pushed him down into the warm bathtub.

After months of searching for Yennefer and being constantly on the road with Vesemir, it was hard to keep his cock at bay from growing to full erection and flipping in the air. If Geralt didn't expect to see Yennefer coming around the next corner every second, he would have put on his famous ladykiller face and returned the sultry and ambiguous intimations, even slapped one of the girls across the backside and made the water slop over while he fucked her the ins and outs of her tiny, little ass and lungs...

But since Yennefer could be nearby, Geralt was forced to consider himself satisfied by stupidly smiling back at the maids like a teenage boy, nothing more than giggling and winking at the end. Scrubbing the dirt off the witcher's athletically trained and exciting body, the girlish maids couldn't keep their hands off Geralt but had done a good job in making him appear and smell decent again. Even as the scenery was able to get more intimate, the grim chamberlain came in and clapped with hands. Instantly, the maids dropped everything and went outside much to the disapproval of their guest.

"Hmm. It must suffice," the chamberlain stated after wiping Geralt's shoulder with his finger. This time, there was also another man in the room, who handed over a white towel."

"Think Emhyr cares if I'm clean?"

"The gentleman will refer to His Imperial Majesty by his full title or not at all," the chamberlain clarified. "The gentleman will be seated on the bergère."

"The what now?"

"In that... chair."

Geralt sighed in annoyance but obeyed and sat down on the wooden chair.

"Cledwyn. Please shave the gentleman - sideburns to half an inch."

"What's wrong with my beard? Always thought it added to my dignity," Geralt stated proudly.

"It does. Yet it also detracts from your elegance. In Nilfgaard we consider beards hard on the eyes. Especially infested with lice."

"Been on the road a while," the witcher admitted. "Fine, do your thing."

"Tilt your head back, please. And sit still," Cledwyn insisted and already brought out a tube of shaving foam, smudging it over half of Geralt's face.

"And prepare to answer some questions," Morvran Voorhis surprisingly appeared in the chamber as well. Geralt grunted.

"General, I am not certain this is the appropriate time," the chamberlain pointed out.

"I can't think of a better time. Men turn honest when they feel a blade at their throat. Before they take you in to see the emperor, witcher, there's some information I need you to verify. It's a formality, but one that must be seen to."

"Sure. Paperwork's gotta be in order," Geralt agreed sarcastically.

"So, Geralt of Rivia. Place of birth - unknown, parents - unknown, age - unknown... All insignificant details," the general stated while reading aloud from the paper in his hand and taking some notes. "Let us proceed to more recent events - the siege of La Valette Castle. The fate of the defending commander, one Aryan."

Geralt remembered the siege like it was yesterday when he accompanied King Foltest as his personal bodyguard and engaged in the battle with troops loyal to his mistress, the Baroness Mary Louisa La Valette after what could best be described as a lovers' spat. Not to mention of Triss who was the king's royal adviser at that time.

Triss...

"We fought on opposing sides, true. Then we landed in the same dungeon. Aryan escaped, set fire to the castle on his way out."

The general looked surprised and sat down on the chair next to Geralt. "Ahh, so that is how the blaze started. Our reports suggested the dragon was responsible. Moving on. Yo then found shelter in charming Flotsam, and from there made your way to Vergen. My question is - 'how?'"

Cledwyn applied the razor on the witcher's throat.

"I got out of Flotsam with Vernon Roche, commander of the Blue Stripes and--"

"A murderer of nonhumans. We know this gentleman well, witcher. You forge interesting alliances," Morvran interrupted and added.

"Something tells me my most interesting is yet to come. Go on, next question - before my beard grows back in," Geralt straighten out ironically. The general didn't raise his eyebrow and countered, "We shall shave you again if it does. Very well. The infamous summit at Loc Muinne. You were there. And once again meddled in the affairs of the mighty."

"Not the way I see it. I helped a friend rescue a child."

"Anaïs was not just any child," Morvran made it plain. "She was a pawn in a game you did not understand. You and Roche did not rescue her at all. At most, you moved her from one edge of the board to the other, fanning the flames of conflict."

"Nilfgaard recently started a war. Unprovoked. So do us both a favor and stop moralizing."

"The gentleman must sit still. I am almost done," Cledwyn advised in the middle of the conversation.

"I'm afraid I might find that difficult. Because from what I know, shortly afterward you watched a defective megascope blow your friend Síle de Tansarville to bits."

"I watched her get in the megascope, but ultimately freed her... from the trap your man Letho of Gulet had set. Write that down. I wanna be sure the paperwork's in order now."

"Well, national interest calls on one to forge difficult alliances at times. Alliances with witchers included."

"That an ongoing alliance? What's Letho up to?" Geralt asked curiously.

"I had hoped you would answer that question."

"Ah. So Letho's hiding from you. Must have a good reason. Was there a shift in national interest that might've caused that?... I don't know where he is. Wouldn't tell you if I did, anyway. Blade or no blade to my throat."

Cledwyn finished the shaving and clean the witcher's face with a wet towel.

"I believe that is all. Your signature, please, affirming you stated the whole truth and nothing but the truth, on pain of imprisonment or death, et cetera, et cetera," the general explained and handed over a pen. "Here... and here."

"With these formalities seen to, I would ask the general to leave the room. We shall be choosing the gentleman's attire. An important matter, but one that does not require the general's assistance."

"Shame... I might have given you some advice. So long, Geralt. Good luck with your audience," Morvran said and left the room the way he came. Quick and underwhelmed.

Up next, the chamberlain led the witcher to the side room with three clothes racks including different black and white outfits. Geralt was no pleased with the options.

"Feels more like I'm being readied for a wedding," he joked his cynical way.

"Were that so, I would have prepared the gentleman a frock, a tailcoat, or possibly a dinner jacket. In point of fact, the gentleman will choose from these garments."

"Where're my clothes?"

"Where they should have gone long ago. With the laundress. They will be returned to you after the audience, clean and starched. The gentleman will tell me once he has chosen an outfit."

Geralt liked none of them. However, to not lose more time he simply decided himself for that in the middle and put it on immediately.

"And they say clothes do not make the man," the chamberlain joked with a straight expression. "Does the outfit satisfy the gentleman?"

"A studded doublet and a sword on my back - that's what would satisfy me. But though, when in Nilfgaard..."

"Yes...?"

Geralt frowned in annoyance. "It's a saying. So what now? Powder my nose?"

"No need," the chamberlain replied honestly. "The gentleman's complexion is light enough. The gentleman is to stand before the Ruler of the North and South. I must confirm that he knows how to bow."

"Confirm away."

After showing him the correct moves and Geralt imitating him several times, the old chamberlain accepted the witcher's poor attempts and personally guided him through the great hall and courtyard to the emperor's private workroom which was Foltest's private chamber in former days. After knocking at the door, they entered the room with Emhyr sitting at his wooden desk and four peers standing before him.

Immediately, the chamberlain introduced the emperor in the nilfgaardian language by his entire title and then bowed. For a split second, Geralt refused to do the same but thought that Emhyr was holding the whip hand at the moment, therefore bowed too as respectfully the chamberlain taught him and acknowledged, "Your Imperial Majesty."

Emhyr didn't seem to be impressed at all and beckoned everyone except the witcher away.

"I thought you bowed before no man."

"Didn't want to disappoint the chamberlain, We're friends," Geralt joked in his typical way, recognizing that the emperor wasn't amused by the attempt of being funny, as he stood up and walked toward the big painting of infant Ciri on the wall. An awkward, short silence resounded through the room before Geralt thought it was time to break the ice again. "Take it you didn't summon me to reminisce about the good old days, so--"

"Silence," Emhyr ordered calmly. "My daughter Cirilla... she's returned, and she's in danger. The Wild Hunt pursues her. You will find her and bring her to me."

"Are you sure? Ciri... left. Went far, far away."

"Do you believe I'd drag you here in the middle of a war to discuss a rumor?"

"I think anyone can be wrong, even an emperor," Geralt countered straightforward.

Emhyr stepped close to the witcher and frowned. "I had forgotten how insolent you can be." Both men bandied serious looks before the emperor moved away to sit at his desk again. "I haven't the time to convince you, nor the desire, in fact. Yennefer will do that - better say should have done that after the audience."

"Where is she?" Geralt asked, heart slightly throbbing faster.

"I don't know. No one does, actually. Weeks ago, she left Vizima by its main gate and never came back ever since. Sorceresses... I should have known better."

"What's she up to?"

Emhyr frowned once more. "I don't care. The only things that matter to me are results."

"How many men in your army? Twenty thousand? Thirty? And in your intelligence? Twenty thousand? And you can't find Yennefer nor Ciri? So why me?"

"You know why. Because of them trust you."

"They trust me, yes. So tell me what's in this arrangement for Yennefer and why you're looking for Ciri exactly? Doubt it's about making up for all those lost years."

"Both for reasons of state. As always," Emhyr admitted, annoyed.

"Ciri as your heiress... makes sense... but Yennefer... To what terms did she agree to help you?"

"Ciri's life and come back in return for full amnesty for all former sorceresses of the Lodge and the re-establishment of the Lodge itself under my control," Emhyr declared without batting an eye. "And even more..."

Something angry and furious raised within Geralt's belly at the sound of that deal. How could Yennefer do this? Was she perhaps using Ciri only as a barter object to regain political power?

As much as the entire situation looked like this way, Geralt refused to believe it - at least until he had a chance to speak with her face to face. It could be also true that she actually used Emhyr and his power to find Ciri as much as he did, and that the arrangement was just a pretense to let her motives look rational and less of a desperate mother longing for her foster-daughter's return.

Everything was possible, Geralt guessed...

"Enough of this banter. You will agree regardless. If for no reason than because I shall pay you. More than you customarily receive for a contract. Considerably more."

"Save your generosity for those whose homes your armies have razed. I'll do it for Ciri. Not for Yennefer nor for your gold."

"Your motives do not interest me. Only results," Emhyr made clear. "This audience is finished. Mererid!"

Instantly, the first chamberlain entered the room.

"Give him the sorceress' private documents and make sure he doesn't forget anything before he leaves this place."

After nodding shortly, Mererid returned to the threshold and gazed back at the witcher with eyes ordering him to follow. Geralt pursed his lips and sighed before giving in and walking close behind the chamberlain to his previous quarters. He neither found Yennefer nor Ciri after two months of searching, instead, he was confronted with new facts and an uneasy feeling that even both girls could be now in serious danger at the same time.

"These are Lady Yennefer's private papers. Gentleman is allowed to study but not to take them with him," the chamberlain stated and handed over a bunch of papers, then went off. Geralt's cat eyes fell and wandered through the lines, recognizing three possible spots where Ciri was presumed to be seen over the last months; Velen, Novigrad, and Skellige.

According to Yennefer and her thorough research, the trail in Velen was the most promising. To get more information, she planned to meet a merchant named Hendrik at the inn at the Crossroads, who worked for the Nilfgaardian Intelligence. In Novigrad, the second trail led ironically to Triss Merigold who supposed to have a cozy flat on the main square. A hard swallow followed at the thoughts to see his 'friend' again when Geralt remembered how the broke up last time...

The third and last trail pointed to a magic explosion in Skellige Isles, blowing half a forest down. Yennefer was sure that it must have something to do with Ciri, suggested to head to Kaer Trolde and meet Crach an Craite, who - when he was a young man and many years before Geralt became acquainted with him - had a short but very intense affair with her. Geralt and Yennefer never spoke with each other about their former relationships, but the witcher could only imagine how it must have been if considering the way Yennefer looked at Crach and bit her lips in desperate need when she thought Geralt would watch the other way.

Perhaps it was just teeny imagination...

Hearing the door opening, the witcher pushed the odd and unpleasant thoughts aside and saw that Mererid brought him his gear and weapons back, the smell of something unusual hit his senses.

"Citrus and cloves. The fragrance will keep the gentlemen's robes fresh somewhat longer."

"Mhh. Thanks bunches," Geralt said in a sarcastic tone and immediately changed slipped into his approved and a lot comfier outfit, right in front of the old chamberlain. After sheathing his steel and silver swords on the back, the white wolf unnoticeably pocketed the paper including Ciri's possible, current look and quickly headed outside, ready to ride to Velen, as Mererid made clear with threatening voice, "The emperor is not known for his patience. He wants his daughter back, safe and sound. As soon as possible."

"Yeah, mentioned something of the sort. So long."
Well... it is finally over. After 194.000 words, 25 chapters/scenes and a whole year, I finally reached the end of the prologue/prehistory. If someone told me I'd write so much, I'd never started writing at all ;)
Kidding, of course.
However, I must say it was not only fun but also a hard damn work, especially near the end. I can approve the saying; "It is easy to start a story but hard to finish it". And I didn't reach all my goals the way I wanted, for instance:
- Keep every scene between 4000 and 8000 words max. (Totally miscalculation of the reality, hehe.)
- Strictly following the script written earlier. (I only made use of maybe 30% of the script. The most of the time, I changed during writing. Cost me a lot of extra time and editing.)
- Finishing every scene during 2 and 3 weeks max.
However, I'm happy with what I (and we all) accomplished so far. It is a well-built pillar for the main story coming next and having some chances in following terms:
- No predefined number of scenes per chapter (and character) --> This way I can write more freely and upload faster.
- No word limit --> Sometimes, I'd like to write a scene of only 2000-3000 words to push the story forward. This way, again, I can upload faster and don't need to make a compromise.
- This prologue will be marked as completed and a new one will be created (same name, just a different summary)
- I started something I can't mention here due to AFF's stupid and ancient site rules. Please visit my personal author's site and use the links there: http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296982765
Last but not least, I'd like to thank you all for you kind words, ideas and criticism. I've never thought the story would be accepted so well by the community. I always hesitated to upload anything on the internet but except for three guys, I've never encountered real trolls I've seen in other sites and stories. The vast majority of the people are almost too kind but I prefer it rather this way than the other. Since this is my first writing work at all, I'm just happy it wasn't a failure at all ;)
The ETA of the next chapter or better say story will be revealed via (use the links of my author's site: http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296982765).
Once more, thank you guys. Stay tuned. Now it can finally start getting really dirty with the characters. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
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