Chapter 10: The Mystery

The room lingered with the scent of their passionate night as Geralt stirred awake, his senses attuned to a subtle disturbance. Squinting his eyes open, he observed Sasha moving stealthily through the room. The question of her intent flickered in his mind—was she searching for her clothes or something else?

To his surprise, Sasha wasn’t rummaging through her belongings but rather delving into his possessions. As she perused his bestiary and sifted through his pants, a disconcerting feeling gnawed at Geralt. Bernard’s earlier warning about Sasha’s possible ulterior motives echoed in his mind.

Sasha quickly turned to observe Geralt. Instinctively feigned awakening, slightly moving his shoulders and giving a small yawn, his eyes fluttering open. Geralt knew he had to navigate the delicate balance between unraveling the mystery and fulfilling his desires. The morning held secrets yet to be revealed, and Geralt sensed the need to play the long game to get to his ultimate prize.

“Good morning, lover,” Sasha whispered, her hands tracing a delicate path on Geralt’s chest before their lips met in a soft morning kiss, “I don’t know what you did to me last night but I am so horny for you.”

“Your desires are insatiable Sasha and I would like nothing more than to fuck you all day long, but it will have to wait”, Geralt acknowledged the significance of the upcoming day, his thoughts drifting to his primary mission to earn enough money to journey to Skillage to find his daughter Ciri. “It’s a big day.”

With a touch of gravity, Sasha gazed into Geralt’s eyes, her request hanging in the air. “Geralt, you are such a tease. We will get together after the tournament then?” The weight of her words lingered, adding a layer of intrigue to the day’s events, leaving Geralt to ponder the complexities of their connection amidst the backdrop of the tournament.

“I’ll be there,” Geralt affirmed with a subtle nod, his commitment clear. “And when I win, I plan on not just claiming the prize, but also claiming you.”

Sasha’s response was a sultry purr, her legs already damp with anticipation at the promise of what was to come. “Mmm, can’t wait for you to claim what yours, Geralt,” she teased, the air thick with the shared anticipation of their evening rendezvous.

As Sasha gracefully dressed and prepared to leave, Geralt’s eyes were fixated on her every movement. The soft morning light streaming in from the window, between the curtains, caressed her skin, accentuating the curves of her body and the allure of her beauty.

As she walked away, each step seemed to carry a secret, leaving Geralt intrigued and eager to uncover the layers of mystery surrounding her. The challenge was set, and he was determined to delve into the enigma that was Sasha, to unravel her to her very core. The front door closed, and she was gone, but excitement brewed within Geralt for the unfolding cat-and-mouse game.

Checking his gear, Geralt found nothing stolen or disturbed. His Gwent deck remained untouched to his relief. Sasha’s interest in his notes and books left lingering questions. A sly grin crossed his face as he remembered their pact, he would see her again allowing him to pursue this mystery later.

Determination crystalized in Geralt’s mind. First thing first, he must conquer the challenges of the Gwent tournament.

Chapter 11: Tournament Finale

Geralt entered the room for the final day of the tournament with quiet confidence. With only two challengers remaining he could feel victory in his grasp. The air was charged with anticipation, and the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of competitors ready to prove their strategic prowess in the grandmasters’ game of Gwent. He could feel the eyes of fellow participants and spectators alike, acknowledging the formidable Witcher in their midst.

The atmosphere was tense. The room buzzed with anticipation, Geralt’s heart quickened at the announcement that his next challenger was none other than Sasha. He braced himself for the impending match, acutely aware of her shrewdness and cunning.

As Geralt faced off against Sasha, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind, questioning whether their previous rendezvous had been a well-placed, albeit pleasurable, distraction. He couldn’t shake the feeling that her mysterious actions were purposefully staged to divert his attention from the cards and his carefully planned strategy.

As they commenced the first round of the match, it became evident that he needed to swiftly adapt his approach. He reflected on her win the previous night, and her ability to use his offense against him. With each card played, the calculating glint in her eyes hinted at a well-concealed strategy of her own. Geralt adjusted his gameplay, he focused on analyzing her patterns, attempting to decipher the intentions behind each move she made.

The tension in the air was palpable, each hand becoming a careful dance of strategy and counter-strategy, as they attempted to outmaneuver each other with their skillful plays. Between moves, she brushed her hand against his, her melodic voice encouraging his errors reminding him of her panting cries of pleasure. Despite the undeniable chemistry that simmered between them, his loss to her in the second round of gameplay reminded him to focus if he were to emerge victorious.

With a steely resolve, he reined in any distractions, channeling his energy into every calculated move. Geralt managed to turn the tide, ultimately clinching victory in a close-fought contest. The resounding cheers of the patrons filled the room, adding an electrifying energy to the night and setting the stage for the tantalizing encounter that awaited him with Sasha.

“Well, well, Geralt, congratulations on the win. I must say, your Gwent skills are impressive.,” she teased, her voice carrying a subtle hint of admiration as she leaned closer.

Geralt, with a confident smirk, responded, “Well played, Sasha. I find you equally impressive… in more ways than just your Gwent skills. I hope we can explore those other skills together, where the stakes are a bit more intimate,” he replied, his voice low and suggestive.

Their lips met in a lingering kiss, a moment charged with the electric anticipation. As their embrace broke, Sasha slipped a card into Geralt’s hand, her fingers grazing his as she did so. “Looking forward to that, Geralt. I hope you win soon. Here’s a little something to ensure your victory,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “Use it well, Witcher.”

After a long break, the tournament continued. The tension in the room was palpable as Geralt and the Count faced off, their eyes locked in a battle of wits and strategy.

The Count’s skilled moves threatened to overpower Geralt. Each card used was unique, and dangerous, and created a wall of both offense and defense. But with each play, Geralt’s strategy revealed itself, pushing the Count to summon more and more of his high point cards up front, playing a game of chicken racing to the first win.

Then bolstered by the surprise card Sasha had slipped into his hand, Geralt surrendered the first round and collected a handful of his used cards to play again in the next round. It proved to be the decisive move that secured Geralt’s victory over the formidable opponent, sending shockwaves through the room.

As the final card was played, the room erupted into applause, and Geralt couldn’t help but glance over at Sasha, a victorious smile playing at the corners of his lips. She met his gaze, a knowing twinkle in her eye, acknowledging the role her assistance had played in his triumph. With the prize secured, Geralt couldn’t shake the anticipation of what awaited him after the tournament, a promise of exploration and satisfaction from the mysterious and alluring Sasha.

Chapter 12: The Clues

Then in a rush of urgency, the organizer of the event rushed into the room escorted by three heavily armed guards. “It’s been stolen! The prize money has been stolen!” The organizer alerted everyone.

As the chaotic scene unfolded, with accusations flying, tension thickened in the air. Amidst the commotion, Geralt’s instincts sharpened, his mind racing to piece together the events leading up to the sudden disappearance of the prize money. He cast a glance around the room, taking note of the frantic whispers and accusatory glances darting between the participants, each one grappling with their suspicions and fears. Geralt’s gaze settled on Sasha trying to assess her motives.

Sasha could feel his accusatory gaze. She responded with a mix of concern and urgency. “It…it wasn’t me, I promise,” she assured him, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation as she met his gaze.

He nodded, he sensed the honesty of her words confirmed by her steady heartbeat. Her voice carried a note of sincerity that left him grappling with the uncertainty of the situation. “I need you to help me get into the room where the prize money was stolen so we can track down the thieves,” he said. Sasha used her charm and skills of deceit to navigate through the crowd and guards, gaining them access to the room.

Clues of the break-in were scattered but not insurmountable. The duo approached the scene of the crime, where a lifeless guard lay with a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Geralt knelt beside the fallen man, inspecting the bolt with a discerning eye.

“This isn’t an ordinary crossbow bolt,” he muttered. “It’s tainted with a substance, something magical, a noonwraith-derived poison. That explains why no one heard the scuffle, this substance paralyzed and blinded the guard.”

Sasha’s eyes widened as the gravity of the situation sank in. “Magic? I thought all of the mages in Novigrad had been hunted down or fled the city?”

“This wasn’t done by a mage. A mage wouldn’t have needed a cross-bolt to paralyze the guard,” Geralt pondered, his brow furrowed, notable concern visible on his face. “No, this is the work of another witcher.”

Geralt rose, his gaze shifting to the balcony where the thieves had made their escape. He noticed faint scuff marks on the deck board leading to the railing where two deep indentations dug into the otherwise flawless handrail. “The thief must have scaled the three-story building’s walls using a grappling hook and rope,” Geralt observed. “Let’s follow the trail. We might find more clues outside.”

As they descended the stairs and stepped into the cool evening air, the duo examined the tracks leading away from the inn. Sasha was impressed by Geralt’s heightened senses, he seemed to be able to find the slightest traces of footsteps. “The tracks stop here,” Geralt noted his finger the footprints in the dirt. On a nearby road, several hundred feet from the Passiflora, Geralt examined a broken box with a distinct logo on it. “This could be a clue.”

Sasha nodded, her expression serious. “That logo looks familiar,” she said, pacing for a few minutes before the answer dawned on her, “I got it! It’s the logo of a Qulliq lamp oil company. I believe they store the seal oil in a warehouse located near the harbor.”

“Lead the way,” Geralt said.

The path to the warehouse led them away from the city center to the edge of town. Abandoned structures dotted the streets around them, their windows shattered, and doors creaking in the breeze. Vagrants took residence in the dilapidated buildings that sheltered them from the cold night breeze. In the distance, near the water, dim lights could be seen flickering in a building that appeared, unlike the rest, to be functional. “Let’s investigate,” Geralt said.

They approached cautiously, sneaking in the shadows, to get as close to the warehouse as they could. The warehouse appeared heavily fortified with a large number of armed guards protecting the boat and the entrances to the warehouse. In the distance, the duo could see teams of armed workers hauling crates from the warehouse to the large vessel on the dock.

“That seems odd for a lamp oil company, doesn’t it?” Geralt said.

Sasha nodded. The whole scene looked suspicious.

Geralt motioned to the other end of the building that was protected by a single guard. “Let’s enter from the far end of the building. It is less protected and will give us the surprise advantage we will need.”

“Shouldn’t we get help?” Sasha asked, concerned that they were outnumbered.

In the dim light, Geralt uncorked a vial of mutagen with a practiced motion. The liquid inside shimmered with an otherworldly glow as he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. Almost immediately, a transformative energy surged through his body.

The change was swift and profound. Geralt’s muscles swelled, each sinew standing out with newfound definition. His stature grew, making him appear larger and more imposing. As the mutagen coursed through his veins, his skin took on a paler hue, almost as if touched by moonlight. The intricate network of veins beneath his skin began to glow with an eerie, black radiance, a stark contrast against the now-pale complexion.

“We don’t have time to get help. I can do this alone.” He said. Geralt’s voice cut through the air like a blade—firm and resolute, carrying the weight of a seasoned warrior. His voice was different than before, it resonated with a gravelly quality that complemented his eerie monstrous new form.

“I am going with you,” Sasha said, pulling out a set of daggers from her out thigh. She cut a long slit down the back of her dress, enabling her to move more freely as the task required.

“Sasha, be on your guard,” Geralt whispered, hand on the hilt of his sword. “We don’t know what we might find here.” They crept deeper into the warehouse, the echoes of their footsteps reverberated, and the dim light played tricks on their senses.

The pair of vigilantes snuck around to the back of the warehouse. The gap between the shadows they hid in and the place the guard stood was over 100 feet away. The area was well-lit, the distance too great to rush in without giving the guard time to sound the alarm.

“I got this,” Sasha said, her two daggers held by the blade in one hand, as she aimed at the target. With skill and precision, both daggers hit their mark, the first hitting the guard at the throat and the next hitting him in the stomach.