“So, Sigi, was it?” I spoke, my eyes not leaving the witcher as he readied his weapons, a simple manipulation of air keeping my words from reaching the witcher’s ears.

  I had put the rat to sleep beforehand, so he had some time to prepare.

  Of course, that’d skew the results somewhat, but frankly, I didn’t care too much about the rat’s combat potential. The rodents were always just a stepping stone.

  No, I was sure that seeing a witcher in action would help my research a lot more.

  “You are younger than I expected,” I continued.

  Sigi raised an eyebrow, “Young enough not to know anything truly threatening, old enough to be of help.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose. Why did you not approach normally?” I asked.

  “Philippa thought you’d appreciate an opportunity to talk before the Cintrans knew about me,” he explained.

  I hummed. The rat was waking up.

  Though calling it a rat was a bit of a misnomer at this point. The creature was the size of a large dog but with keratinous armour instead of fur. Better, Alzur's Double Cross enhanced its speed and strength far above what its size and musculature would otherwise be capable of.

  Unfortunately, I did not manage to isolate its brain from the changes. The rat was completely rabid, but still my best attempt yet. Most of the others were catatonic.

  It was clear to me now that the brain would be my greatest challenge. My first goal was to try and leave it completely unaffected. If I wanted a proper killing machine, then the brain would need to be changed to let the animal cope with its changes better. My hope was that the animal would be capable of adapting naturally, but that might not be enough.

  It was progress.

  The witcher tensed as the monster opened its eyes, immediately locking onto the nearest threat.

  A screech left its maw before it attacked.

  The speed was impressive, a definitive success.

  The witcher matched it, pirouetting out of the way and slashing his sword across the rat’s back.

  Much to my delight, it did not penetrate.

  Unfortunately, the witcher’s strength was enough that the rat was flattened to the ground.

  The creature quickly scrambled to its feet, letting out another screech and evading the witcher’s follow-up blow.

  Then it jumped, its teeth aimed at Coen’s neck.

  At the same time, the witcher stabbed towards the creature’s weakly armoured underbelly.

  The rat, unable to dodge mid-air, impaled itself.

  I sighed.

  “Not what you wanted?” Sigi asked while the witcher finished the creature.

  “No, but it is what I expected,” I responded.

  The rat wasn’t great, but it showed the promise of my research. Any regular, lightly armoured human would struggle even with just one of these. Of course, they were near useless as I possessed no means of controlling them. Still, perhaps there was an avenue to pursue here as well. A big and angry monster in the middle of enemy territory could be of use.

  The hounds I intended to create would be both larger and tougher, but above all, obedient. I could already see them breaking enemy formations once ordered to charge. They’d excel as shock troops and guards.

  Coen already gave me a lot of ideas on where I could improve. I was almost certain that the Witcher trials influenced his brain just like his body, so I knew that my goal was very much possible.

  Easily worth the money.

  I dispelled the sound barrier as Coen came towards us and threw the witcher a pouch with his payment.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “You wouldn’t be interested in a long-term employment contract, would you?” I asked.

  Mercenaries might be inherently untrustworthy, but I was willing to make an exception for a super soldier. Having the witcher at my back once I was forced to depart for Marnadal would be a nice fail-safe.

  “I am afraid the Code forbids me from serving as a bodyguard, hired killer and the like,” Coen replied.

  “A shame, though not what I was alluding to,” I said. The information was interesting, if not terribly surprising. If a supersoldier was for hire like that, then he already would have been, “I would like to hire you as a monster hunter.”

  Coen frowned, “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “The Crown is planning an expedition through Erlenwald, into Marnadal, and having an expert on hand to deal with any possible monsters that might appear would be a great boon,” I explained.

  And if Nazair attacked… Well, I doubted he’d just roll over and die.

  His frown eased, “I was planning on returning North after today, but I could be convinced.”

  I smiled.

  The haggling proceeded swiftly and soon we agreed on a price. The witcher would be paid a hefty daily retainer along with bonuses for any slain monsters. Fairly generous terms, whose costs I intended to dump entirely onto the Crown.

  Deal struck, the witcher left, though not before shooting Sigi a strange glance.

  “You are not going to tell him about Nazair?” Sigi asked.

  I blinked. There was no way the man knew about the plans to build a fortress in Marnadal, so what was he talking about?

  “Nazair?” I responded.

  The huge man smirked, “You are going to Marnadal. Expedition, you called it. Whatever your intent, I doubt Nazair will be happy about it. You don’t actually care about monsters, do you?”

  I frowned, “While I am capable of dealing with most monsters, having an expert on hand to consult or to protect the common soldiery would still be greatly beneficial.”

  Not to mention that I’d really rather not. I was a sane individual and as such, preferred to be as far away from any monsters as possible. The witchers can enjoy their monopoly, thank you very much.

  “Ah, soldiers, is it? I doubt Coen will be happy if you march him into a war,” the Redanian agent continued.

  “There will be no war,” I responded immediately, hiding my grimace at the slip, “Please refrain from making baseless assumptions.”

  He raised his hands up, “Of course, of course.”

  I supposed that I couldn’t begrudge an intelligence agent being nosy, but I couldn't say I was a fan either.

  “Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” I said.

  Sigi nodded.

  I thought for a moment, “There is not much for me to discuss with you as you will largely be working with whoever the Queen decides to appoint as head of the agency. There is, however, a matter I could use your help with.”

  While not exactly a beacon of trustworthiness, he had been sent with Philippa’s recommendation, not to mention that Redania had little reason to make trouble here. Moreover, both of us being Brotherhood-associated outsiders made us natural allies here.

  “Yes? Consider my curiosity piqued,” the spy replied.

  “I imagine you’ve heard about the most recent assassination attempt on my person?” I asked, continuing upon his nod, “I did my best to paint the captured assassin as a collaborator, but no one took the bait,” his daughter was still living in their family home, undisturbed.

  Of course, that had been a long shot, considering the utter pointlessness of punishing the man after his capture, but it had been worth a try. The attempt itself did not strike me as something orchestrated by a well-adjusted individual.

  “And you are no closer to the true mastermind,” Sigi finished.

  I nodded. The assassin’s mind yielded little of use, leaving me with nothing to go on. The only other path I could see was to figure out who’d want to see me dead, but people would hardly admit that to my face and I had no idea why anyone would want to kill me. Perhaps someone was getting concerned that I was getting close to the royal family?

  “You’ll likely be around the court, but I doubt people will pay you much mind. I would appreciate it if you kept an eye open for possible suspects,” I finished relaying my request.

  Sigi chuckled, “I would have done that anyway,” then he paused, before a frown came over his face, “I did not believe her, but I suppose Eilhart was right about you.”

  I smiled, “Only good things, I hope?”

  “Right,” Sigi responded, before offering his hand for a handshake.

  I shook it firmly, “I’m sure our collaboration will be fruitful.”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes flitting to the dead carcass, “The assassin. You wouldn’t happen to have him around?”

  I raised an eyebrow, ”You wish to talk to him?”

  I thought it over for a moment, before motioning for him to follow. I led him to the room where I held the man, “He’ll cooperate, but I am quite certain he does not know anything,” I paused, “Oh, and don’t kill him. I’ll find a use for him yet.”

  By law, his life was forfeit, so I could do pretty much whatever I wanted to the man. It was also a simple fact that changes to a creature’s mind were much easier to observe when said creature could speak.

  I wasn’t some deranged monster, of course. I’d only move forward with it if he volunteered. I was pretty sure that a small stipend to his daughter would suffice to secure his consent. I’d test things properly on animals first anyway, only moving on to the man once I was reasonably sure I had worked out all the lethal problems. Anesthesia and the like were well within my means, so there’d be no pain either.

  He’d get to secure his daughter’s future, while I’d get to speed up my research. All perfectly ethical and humane, yet still an unfortunate necessity with the threat of Nilfgaard hanging over my neck.

  In the end, dead was dead. We might as well both benefit.