Henselt and Ashford

After the blast's heat wave swept through, all the moss near this stretch of sewer had been scorched dry. Flames still danced fiercely on the rubbish, and smoke filled the entire space.

Once the commotion gradually subsided, the two men who had thrown themselves into the water slowly climbed to their feet.

"This is what you called about as powerful as a Dancing Star Bomb?" Geralt asked again. He now wanted nothing more than to return the two magic crystals in his pocket to their owner, afraid they might blow him sky-high at any moment.

Looking at the drowner nest, now empty save for severed limbs, Witt scratched his head sheepishly and laughed. "Well... this was a test, wasn't it? I just put a little extra magic into it and couldn't quite stop... heh."

Then Witt patted his chest reassuringly. "Don't worry, Geralt. The crystals I gave you are only two-thirds charged. Their explosions definitely won't be this powerful. Besides, it's an enclosed space down here, and there's flammable gas, which amplified the magic crystal's power. Don't worry, my damage estimates are absolutely right!"

"All right..." Geralt felt the magic crystals in his pocket, thinking he had to use them up as soon as possible.

Once his excitement subsided, Witt walked over to the nest and harvested a few reasonably intact drowner trophies, then returned to the fork with Geralt. This time, they chose the other passage and continued tracking the Idr Giant Centipede.

What neither Witt nor Geralt knew was that the explosion had not only shaken the ground throughout the slums, but its deafening roar had also startled quite a few residents of the inner city.

The nobles who had been reveling all night amid lavish feasts and women thought the noise meant Nilfgaard's black-clad army had reached their doorstep, and fled in panic.

The brightly lit inner city descended into chaos, and the disturbance only subsided when the palace guards arrived.

Inside the royal palace of Ard Carraigh, several startled cries rang out from a room filled with luxurious decorations.

"Guards! Guards!"

Ashford, captain of the king's personal guard, hurried toward the bedchamber of Henselt, king of Kaedwen.

The moment he opened the door, he saw a gold goblet set with several brilliant gemstones flying toward him. Ashford did not instinctively dodge it; even his expression remained unchanged.

Thud.

The heavy gold goblet struck his forehead, instantly opening a gash from which blood streamed down.

Yet Ashford did not utter a cry of pain. Instead, he caught the falling goblet and wiped the blood off it with the pocket square from his breast pocket.

Head bowed, he carried the goblet over to the enormous bed, adorned with fine silk and sumptuous carvings, opened the bottle of East of East red wine on the bedside cabinet, and filled the cup to the brim.

Henselt, king of Kaedwen, shifted his enormous body and half sat up in bed. The woman who had slept beside him after their lovemaking cowered beneath the covers, trembling. Pig held her long golden hair and slowly rubbed it between his fingers. Whenever he tightened his grip slightly, she sucked in a sharp breath, forcibly suppressing the urge to cry out in pain.

"Ashford, what's going on?" Henselt took the gold goblet and drained it in one gulp, paying no heed to the blood still seeping from his guard captain's forehead.

"Nothing else, Your Majesty. Just an earthquake." Ashford remained expressionless.

"Then what's all that commotion outside?"

"Just some cowardly young nobles making a fuss."

"Hmph, a bunch of useless fools!" As Henselt spoke, he jerked his hand, tearing out several golden hairs.

"Mmh..." A brief cry of pain came from beneath the covers, followed by uncontrollable trembling.

Henselt seemed quite satisfied with the blonde woman's behavior. He was in a fairly good mood today and patted the mound beneath the covers beside him. The woman stopped trembling and silently crawled toward Pig.

"Why haven't those monsters causing trouble in the slums been dealt with yet? Nobles have already come to the palace to bother me about it. And that Iron Rat Gang, or whatever it's called-they're all lowborn scum. Get all of it sorted out before you come back to see me!" Henselt barked, dismissing Ashford.

"Yes."

Ashford bowed his head and backed out of the bedchamber, still facing Henselt's bed. Just as he closed the door, a satisfied moan slipped through the gap.

"Keep His Majesty safe," Ashford instructed the two soldiers standing guard outside the bedchamber.

"Yes, Captain."

Ashford nodded to them. The instant he turned away, his expression grew utterly grim.

After asking the patrolling guards and learning that nothing unusual had happened in the inner city today, Ashford headed toward the city guard barracks on the border between the slums and the inner city, his face dark.

Bang!

A loud crash woke Frank from his sleep. Before he could work out what was happening, someone dragged him out of bed.

"Who are you?! Do you know who I-ow!"

Ashford kicked Frank in his enormous belly, cutting him off.

He cursed as he kicked. "Who are you?! You fat pig who does nothing but eat and sleep! If you hadn't been born into the right family, I'd have fucking killed you long ago!"

"Ow! Ow!"

Frank's cries of pain carried far. The city guards rushed over with spears in hand, but when they saw that the man beating their commander was Ashford, captain of the king's personal guard, they had no choice but to stop where they stood.

They dared not step forward to stop him, nor did they want to, afraid they might interrupt Ashford's brutality.

"Ow! Ow! Stop kicking, stop kicking! Captain Ashford, what have I done to offend you?!" Frank sounded close to tears. The pain had brought him fully awake, and he finally saw who was beating him.

Seeing Frank beneath his feet, his face bruised and swollen from the kicks and blood spurting from his mouth, Ashford felt much better. Even the wound on his forehead seemed to hurt less.

Taking a handkerchief offered by one of his men, Ashford pressed it against the wound on his forehead. Pain had not made him soft. He asked coldly, "Tell me, Frank. Who did you let in today?"

"I..." Frank clutched his belly, which had taken the most blows, unable to remember a thing. "I... I didn't let anyone in..."

"Don't fucking play dumb with me! If you hadn't let anyone into the slums, why would the king have blamed me?!" Ashford delivered another kick, drawing another cry of pain from Frank.

The earlier tremor had not disturbed Frank's precious sleep, so he had no idea what had happened. But years of bowing and scraping before important men allowed him to glean something from Ashford's words, and he hurriedly said:

"To... today, two witchers came. I wasn't going to let them into the city. But that mage from Ban Ard Academy, Laud Böll, said His Majesty had ordered him to invite two witchers to deal with the monsters in the sewers. I... I just... ow!"

Hearing this, Ashford raised his foot, ready to give the fat pig another kick, but Frank cried out before it even landed.

Ashford immediately lost interest. He lowered his leg and cursed, "Use that pig brain of yours and think! Would His Majesty care whether those lowborn scum live or die? Since they like listening to that damned rat, let him deal with it. Those lowborn scum don't deserve His Majesty's favor!"

"Yes, yes..." Frank's head was practically pressed into the ground.

"Right now, immediately! This instant! Take your men, find where that tremor came from, and arrest every last person there! Throw them in prison and wait for me to deal with them tomorrow," Ashford ordered.

"Even those lowborn scum...?"

"Hmm?" Seeing that Frank still dared to question him, Ashford snorted coldly.

Frank hurriedly kowtowed to the guard captain. "I understand! Witchers or lowborn scum, arrest them all! Anyone who resists will be killed on the spot!"

"Hmph." With that single sound, Ashford swept out of the city guard barracks. As the cold wind blew over him, his mood improved considerably.

Looking at the soldiers standing dumbly in the doorway, Frank regained his usual air of authority. The soldiers hurriedly lowered their heads, not daring to look at him again, afraid he might spot the amusement in their eyes.

"What are you standing around for? Get out there and look! Send someone to notify me as soon as you find them. I'm going to teach those two mutant freaks a lesson myself!"

With that, Frank took a potion from his cabinet and rubbed it onto his badly injured abdomen. From the looks of it, he often served as someone else's punching bag.

"Yes!" The soldiers hurried out. Only after leaving the barracks did they exchange glances and burst into the wild laughter they had been holding back.