Coen played with his griffin medallion as he read the notice on the board.

  ‘Witcher wanted

  TASK: Extermination of a mutated rat the size of a small cow, contained

  REWARD: 100 Ducats

  Healing of any sustained injuries will be provided free of charge

  For details, see the Court Sorceress, Tanya von Degurechaff’

  He knew enough to smell a metaphorical rat, but money was tight. Normally, he did not venture this far south, spending his time in lands around his order’s former fortress, Kaer Seren. Yet while once the lands of Kovir and Poviss overflowed with his brothers, now they mostly contained painful memories.

  So he had decided to head south, but it had been ages since he’d been here, resulting in less than stellar planning, at least where his funds were concerned.

  However, the question of what the job actually was remained.

  Did the sorceress simply not want to dirty her hands with a monster? Was the rat more dangerous than the description said? Or, did she perhaps desire a specimen for dissection?

  She wouldn’t be the first sorcerer who had desired to uncover the secrets of witchers in that way.

  “Thinking about accepting the job, witcher?” A male voice interrupted his musings. He had heard their approach, but he was still taken aback by the imposing man who greeted him when he turned around.

  The man was around twenty and near seven feet tall. He was dressed in bright red clothes and possessed a rough face with beady azure eyes.

  “I am,” Coen admitted easily enough, “Is that a problem, mister…?”

  “Sigi,” the man responded, “And no, the opposite, in fact.”

  “Coen,” the witcher responded, “The opposite?”

  Sigi nodded, “How would you like to make some extra money?”

  “Depends,” Coen said.

  “It is a small matter. I’d merely like to accompany you, should you decide to accept the job. I’ve always wanted to see a witcher in action and this seems like a safe way to do so. I’ll pay you fifty ducats,” the large man explained.

  The witcher scrutinised the man. It certainly wasn’t the strangest request he had ever heard, but it was the first time he had received a request of this nature.

  “If the rat is in the castle, you might not be allowed in,” he cautioned.

  “I do not think that will be an issue,” Sigi said.

  Coen looked him over, “You don’t look the sneaky type, but if you try anything, I’ll stab you before the sorceress can turn you into a newt.”

  Not that the witcher thought that likely, but perhaps the man had fallen in love with the Court Sorceress? It wouldn’t be the stupidest scheme to get close to a woman he had heard of, but it was one that could easily backfire.

  Well, he doubted he’d return to Cintra any time soon after this, so why not? He wasn’t given any reason to doubt Sigi’s words in any case.

  “All right, it’s a deal, but I cannot guarantee that I will accept the job,” Coen agreed, “I’d like to find out a bit more about the Sorceress beforehand.”

  “Prudent,” Sigi nodded, “I’ll accompany you, if you do not mind. This too is part and parcel for a witcher contract, no?”

  Coen shrugged, “If you want.”

  After tearing the paper down and stuffing it into a pocket, Coen headed for a tavern, Sigi trailing behind him.

  Though wary initially, the locals warmed to him a bit when Sigi used some of his funds to buy them drinks, rising a bit higher in Coen’s regard.

  Overhearing that one of the men was an off-duty castle guard, Coen sat down opposite of him, ordering another round for the both of them.

  “I hear you’ve recently got a new sorceress in Cintra, a Tanya von Degurechaff?” he began.

  The guard, drinking from his mug, immediately blanched and started coughing. After hitting his chest a few times, he looked around the tavern, before turning back to Coen, “Don’t say her name,” he hissed, “Who knows if that devil can hear us?”

  Not a hopeful start, Coen noted.

  “Devil? Surely she is not that bad?”

  Looking around once more, the guard leaned closer, lowering his voice, “Someone tried to knife her a few weeks back. She chased that poor son of a bitch down, before summoning a demon from hell to grab him, laughing all the while. I saw her jump down from a rooftop with the man, grinning like an assassination was the best thing that could have happened to her,” he paused to take a swig from his tankard, “Then she took him to her Tower and no one saw him since, but I heard he sang like a bird.”

  Coen’s eyebrows rose up. That was certainly… a story. He sincerely doubted the woman was summoning demons in the middle of a fight. Whether she enjoyed battle or not did not matter to him either, though he could admit that a sight like that would have been a bit disconcerting, considering the appearance sorceresses took.

  “That isn’t that bad,” Coen began cautiously, “It was self defense, no?”

  The guard gave him a haunted look, “I’ve talked to some of the lads that are supposed to guard her tower, you know? There isn’t a day where they don’t hear some otherwordly screeching and smell blood. The guards there were reinforced recently, but I tell you, they are guarding the rest of the castle from whatever she’s got hidden inside.”

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  Coen frowned, matching the man’s volume, “She is killing people?”

  “How should I know?” the guard said, “Probably not,” he allowed, ”I don’t think the Queen would stand for that.”

  “I’ve heard,” Sigi interjected for the first time in the conversation, “That she was born a commoner and hates the nobility.”

  “Aye,” the guard nodded, “I’ve heard that too. I suppose she might not be so bad…” he mumbled.

  “Do you know why she needs a witcher?” Coen asked.

  “A witcher?” The slightly-drunk guard said, before looking Coen over, finally focusing on his unnatural eyes, “Oh. Uh, I have no idea. Maybe she summoned another hell beast and lost control?”

  “Say, my good man, what did you say your name was?” Coen said.

  “Cyril, witcher,” the guard responded, somewhat more cautiously.

  “I’m Coen, thank you for the chat, Cyril,” the witcher finished, toasting the guard with his own mug.

  He stayed for an hour or so more, mostly chatting with Sigi about inconsequential things, before he left. The large man was a surprisingly able conversationalist so the time passed pleasantly.

  Coen had learned what he needed. This Tanya might have a bit more rumours surrounding her than most mages, but that made sense if she survived a public assassination attempt recently. That the common folk would be spooked by magic wasn’t surprising either, especially if the Sorceress utilised some of the more unsightly spells.

  For a hundred and fifty ducats, he was willing to at least hear her out.

  So off he went to the castle, Sigi in tow. For some reason, the guards gave him pitying looks when he told them who he was there to see. Sigi was let in without issue, his suspiciousness rising in Coen's estimation.

  After waiting for a few minutes in one of the castle’s meeting rooms, the sorceress arrived.

  Coen made sure to keep his gaze respectful, but he still looked her over. Young looking, though that meant less than nothing when it came to mages, with golden hair in a ponytail and a handsome face. The eyes, however, were a steely blue, a coldness in them revealing the lie of her age and telling Coen to tread lightly.

  Her posture and gait revealed the woman’s true nature as well. Too sure, too certain, more akin to what he’d expect of a veteran soldier than a young maiden.

  “Greetings, witcher. My name is Tanya von Degurechaff, the Court Sorceress of Cintra and a member of the Brotherhood. I’m glad to see that someone has finally decided to come,” the sorceress spoke with an even voice as soon as she sat down at the table, opposite of him, “And this is?” Her eyes landed on Sigi.

  Coen’s large companion gave a bow, his eyes glued to the sorceress, “My name is Sigi, my lady. I’m merely accompanying Mr. Coen,” he nodded to the witcher.

  With the way Sigi watched her, the witcher was beginning to believe that Sigi really might be a secret admirer. Or an assassin. He resolved to keep an eye on the man, lest he get them both in trouble.

  Tanya von Degurechaff scrutinised the large man, before nodding, apparently satisfied with his explanation. She turned back to Coen.

  “So what’s the catch? You don’t need a witcher to kill a contained rat,” Coen asked.

  The mage didn’t even blink, “Quite right. The matter is quite simple. I desire to create a war beast, which means testing. Yet the risk of death would be too high for regular soldiers, an unacceptable waste of resources. That is where a specialist like you comes in,” she finished.

  “You want me to fight this rat… to test its strength?” Coen asked.

  “Exactly so. I would do so myself, but I am a mage. There would be little information for me to glean from such a confrontation,” the blonde steepled her fingers.

  That the lack of information would be because she’d reduce the creature to a smear too fast went unsaid, but the implication did not escape Coen.

  Still, he found her explanation satisfactory and her request… Acceptable.

  It was not exactly a quest fit for the chivalric principles instilled into him by his school, but then again, the griffin was dead.

  “When do I start?” He asked.

  Tanya von Degurechaff smiled from ear to ear, “Right now.”

  The expression was more than a little bloodthirsty, almost making Coen question his decision.

  The witcher nodded. He had come prepared. The sorceress glanced at Sigi again, before guiding them out of the room.

  They made their way over to the castle’s courtyard and towards one of the towers.

  The witcher quickly spotted two heavily armed guards in front of its entrance, apparently arguing with a small child.

  Tanya von Degurechaff sighed in exasperation.

  Upon spotting the sorceress, the child’s eyes lit up, and the girl rushed over, or waddled over, more like. The child couldn’t have been older than five.

  “Auntie Nya!” The child squeaked, before finally noticing him. Then she tried to hide behind the sorceress, turning her emerald eyes upon him.

  “Your Highness,” Tanya spoke with a curtsy, before shooting Coen and his companion a look.

  Understanding the cue, they both bowed to the child.

  “Where is your nanny?” The sorceress continued.

  The child, the princess, for there was no one else it could be, puffed up her cheeks, “Dunno!”

  Tanya sighed again before her gaze zeroed in on the two guards, “Methodius,” she indicated one of them, “You take the Princess to her quarters. The castle might be safe, but that’s no excuse.”

  The guard cringed but nodded.

  “I don’t wanna,” the child protested, then her pudgy face turned towards Coen, “Why can he go and not me? I just want doggies!”

  Coen smirked, finding the little tyrant adorable.

  “Master Coen is a specialist whose work I am paying for. The dogs are not for cuddling anyway,” the sorceress rebuffed the goblin.

  “But-”

  “You can ask your mother for permission,” Tanya finished.

  The princess cringed and before she could think of anything else, Tanya shooed both her and the guard off.

  “I apologise for the delay, Master Coen, the servants dote on the princess too much,” the sorceress half-explained.

  “It is quite alright. I like children,” he responded.

  Tanya nodded, before unlocking the door. Coen noted the silver doorknob with interest, before freezing for a split-second once the door opened. His medallion was already vibrating.

  Then he started reaching for his sword.

  “A golem,” the sorceress explained, causing him to pause.

  Had he been fully human, Coen was sure there’d be a deep blush on his face right now.

  Checking the evil-looking apparition over, the witcher quickly calmed down.

  The thing looked like a black suit of armour, if one as tall as two men and with too many joints. Three baleful red eyes glared from its head straight at the witcher, completely ignoring the sorceress.

  Tanya muttered a phrase in the elder tongue, ‘friend’ being the only word Coen managed to catch before she beckoned the witcher inside.

  Casting a distrustful look at the golem, Coen followed, his steady gait not showing any hesitance at getting closer to the killing machine.

  They quickly ascended to the second floor, where a Tanya led him to a large reinforced door.

  Opening it, she marched inside and the witcher followed.

  The room was larger than he expected, likely larger than should have been possible if his medallion was anything to go by.

  Of course, Coen wasn’t thinking about the room, his eyes glued to its single occupant.

  Calling that thing a rat was the understatement of the century.