Winter was drawing near. Rain pelted the streets, and cold winds blew from the seas. The people on the streets were shivering as they tried to find shelter from the downpour.
Flames crackled in the hearth on the second floor of Spear’s Pit, and magical lamps shone on one resplendent room. The hands on the clock pointed to twelve.
Orloff was leaning on the windowsill, his eyes narrowed. The mage was staring at the marketplace downstairs through the curtain of rain. Sellers and customers were haggling in the shops and underneath the umbrellas that covered the stalls. They were shivering and twisting their clothes dry while every breath they took became visible in the air.
This was Orloff’s favorite time of the day. Lounging in the room reserved for upper society and picking out the ‘lucky ones’ from Novigrad’s people so they could contribute their useless flesh for science. These people were just that bit better than lowly non-humans. They would never have the chance to know anything about magic. These fools should be honored I’m giving them this chance. They should die happy. And most of them would still die without achieving anything in their pitiful lives, but those chosen by me, the great pioneer of magic, the exalted Collector, shall become part of my exquisite collection. These honored people shall live in eternity.
The name change didn’t change Orloff’s hobby and rotten personality. Compared to the dead Steingard, he liked collecting stuff more, but every collection had to go through some modifications before he would consider adding them to his collection. Take, for example, the beautiful and innocent girl of the black sun he found two months ago.
“Life is nothing but a better test subject. They’re useless unless they can be a part of my collection.” Orloff kept staring at the marketplace and muttered under his breath, “Let’s see which one of you will be the lucky guy today.”
***
A pair of burly men with thick chest hair in tight jackets were standing under the Spear Pit’s plaque. They stared at every customer who came in and out of the establishment solemnly.
A pair of men in grey cloaks squelched through the wet ground and slowly came into their sights. The guards extended their hands and crossed them, stopping the newcomers and taking their weapons.
But the cloaked men quickly made two inverted triangles in the air, and a green light flashed before them. The guards fell into a stupor and followed the men into the rain, and then three more lean, cloaked men entered the premises.
The lobby was dimly lit and filled with the sounds of indulgence, but the trio ignored them and went toward a table in the corner, where a Gwent game was heating up. The players were almost getting into an argument, and a crowd was watching. One of the audience members was a bald man, and the witchers huddled closer to him as they scouted out their surroundings.
One, two, three… Three in the shadows. What are they looking at? Oh, the customers who’re having fun with the whores. They looked up and saw a pair of burly men standing guard outside the leftmost room like they were gargoyles.
The witchers exchanged looks, and Auckes went to the madam in thick makeup. He smiled, cocked his eyebrow, and rubbed his hands like some guy who was going to make his pick. They started chatting happily, and the bodyguards on the second floor turned their attention to Auckes and the madam. Mostly because the witcher was loud.
Letho stood behind the bald man and blocked the sight of the bodyguards, and then Serrit patted the man’s shoulders.
“Do I know you? Don’t get in my way. I want to watch this match!” The bald man cursed for a moment, but then he started trembling. His eyes spaced out in confusion, and then they went wide. A deep frown hung on his forehead, and then his lips curled downward in fury.
The man started trembling in rage, and Serrit quietly stuffed a purse of money into his pocket before leaving the table with Letho.
They slowly advanced toward the bodyguards in the corner while the bewitched man earlier shouted, “Damn you, rascal! You cheated! Nobody scams me out of my coins! You’re dead!” He shot up and flung the game board upside down.
Wine bottles were smashed to pieces, and the Gwent cards and coins fell everywhere. A commotion exploded in the lobby as the crowd started chattering about this fight. On the other hand, the bald man angrily shoved an equally furious Gwent player down before engaging in a brawl with him.
The crowd cheered them on while they picked the coins up for themselves, but surprisingly, the bald man swung his arm back and dragged a bystander into the brawl, much to everyone’s shock.
***
The pair of bodyguards in the corner were alarmed by that commotion and came to them snarling like beasts. At the same time, the customers and waitstaff in the lobby were gripped by the brawl. Even the bodyguards on the second floor were distracted as well.
Auckes was still chatting up the madam, while two of his companions easily darted toward the last bodyguard.
The mustached, red-faced man was about to call for reinforcements, but before he could do anything, he saw a hand with its ring finger curled hanging before him. An electric current coursed through his body, and when he looked at the witchers again, a bizarre smile curled his lips.
He went up the stairs while two bodyguards in the lobby were teaching the bald man a lesson. One of them was holding the man up by his arms, while the other kept punching his stomach. Nobody noticed the last bodyguard going upstairs.
The crimson tentacles he saw pierced his shield like it was nothing, and then they wrapped themselves around his body, his will, and his soul. He couldn’t move an inch, not even his fingers.
Roy got back up right away and Blinked toward the sorcerer. Take this! Hilt attack!
And the sorcerer fell face first into the ground and lost consciousness.
“Whew.” Roy heaved a long sigh. Never had that hard a time with a mage before. “I shouldn’t underestimate mages, especially when they’re well-prepared for battle.”
Roy grabbed the mage by his arm and dragged him to the center of the room before opening the door.
“Did a ghoul bite your head, kid? What happened to you? That guy doesn’t even look tough.”
“Shut up and close the door, Serrit!” Roy hunkered down and took off all the sorcerer’s rings and pendant. “How’s the situation outside? The fight was pretty loud in here.”
“Don’t worry. The whoreson’s bodyguards are asleep like big, fluffy babies. It’ll be fine. Orloff will explain everything, after all.”
“Very well, then. Gawain, the stage is all yours.” Roy looked at the regular guy amidst them.
The man crossed his fingers before his belly and took a nervous step forward. He kept staring at Orloff, and the witchers peered at the doppler as they waited for the results with bated breaths.
This was their first time seeing a doppler in action. No way they would miss any detail.
A moment later, Gawain’s features melted away and turned into something that resembled a ball of kneaded dough. His torso, limbs, and bones started contracting into the ball of mudlike item in the middle.
A squirming ball of mud appeared, and a green light flashed. It was as if an invisible sculptor were making something out of that ball of mud. The limbs, neck, and head appeared quickly. The features were vague at first, but that soon changed.
Just a few moments later, Orloff’s ‘twin brother’ showed up.
Roy touched the doppler’s arms and neck curiously and handed the magical items to him. “Just like the real thing. You even mimicked his clothes.”
“Yep. Not even his parents could tell the difference now,” Serrit said.
“Our plan is perfect.” Letho patted the doppler’s shoulder and said heartily, “Gawain… Whoops, you’re Orloff now. Orloff, we’re partners now. We’re your most trusted allies. Tell us if you need any help. Of course, if we need any help, we hope you’ll lend a hand.”
The doppler suddenly held his stomach and retched. “Gods be damned! This guy is more horrifying than I thought! He fucking collected a whole house of dried bodies!”
“You gained all his memories?” Roy asked curiously.
“Regrettably, yes.”
“I think we should set a rule here.” Serrit said seriously, “You can’t mimic your allies without permission.”
“Alright, enough talk. Orloff, you go and wake your bodyguards.” Letho stared daggers at the unconscious Collector. “And we’re taking this bastard to that place. Don’t want to leave Kiyan and Todd hanging,” he said coldly.
***
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