Cain pushed open the heavy oak door of Ysolde Maran's trading post and stepped inside, flanked by the Callum and Calanthe. The midday sun had left a fine layer of dust on their cloaks from the road, evidence of a long week spent completing various commissions. Now, at last, those jobs were done. Cain hefted a wrapped bundle off his shoulder – the final delivery of their contract – and set it on Ysolde's polished mahogany desk with a quiet thud.
Ysolde looked up from a ledger, a pleased smile curling her lips. The influential trade broker was dressed in a smart burgundy traveling gown today, trade documents and map scrolls spread before her. "Right on schedule," she noted warmly. Her keen eyes flicked to the bundle. "Is that our mysterious parcel from Mayena?"
"It is," Cain confirmed. He began untying the burlap wrapping, revealing a reinforced lockbox beneath. "Seals intact. No tampering." He showed her the unbroken wax seals along the lid.
Callum, ever curious, leaned in with a grin. "We had a couple of would-be highwaymen show interest, but Cain convinced them to look elsewhere." The young man's green eyes sparkled with humor. In truth, the Witcher's sword and Sorceress magic had swiftly discouraged the bandits, but Callum liked to make light of the danger.
Ysolde chuckled, retrieving a small iron key from a chain around her neck. "I'm sure you did." She opened the lockbox and checked its contents – stacks of correspondence and one velvet pouch of what sounded like coin or gems. Satisfied, she nodded and pushed a slip of paper across the desk to Cain. "Your payment, as promised."
Cain glanced down. The paper was a credit note for a substantial sum of Temerian crowns, enough to cover their lodging and supplies for a good while. He inclined his head in thanks. "Pleasure doing business."
The broker stood and extended a ring-adorned hand to Cain. He shook it firmly. Over the past week, Ysolde had given them a series of small but critical contracts: guarding caravans at night, couriering confidential letters, even a bit of discreet smuggling of alchemical ingredients past heavy Brotherhood scrutiny. The trio had proven themselves reliable, and in return Ysolde had proven an invaluable patron.
"So, what comes next for you three?" Ysolde asked, arching a dark eyebrow. "You've made quite the impression here in Temeria."
Cain exchanged a quick glance with Calanthe and Callum. They all felt it was time to move on – Ysolde's connections had given them a foothold, but greater opportunities lay beyond. Cain cleared his throat. "We'll be departing Brocheur in a week's time. I want to give us a bit of downtime to wrap up any personal business and prepare for the road." He turned to Calanthe and Callum. "Take the week to rest, restock, brew potions – whatever you need. We leave in seven days."
Callum nodded eagerly, visions of a few relaxed days in town already dancing in his head. Calanthe gave a small, content smile, tucking a loose strand of her red hair behind a ear. "," she said. "good you won't get any complaints from me".
Cain caught the subtle look as Ysolde gave him an appraising glance at his half-elf ears and the hint of curiosity in her eyes and not disgust. Cain being half elf wasnt a secret, but he started having his long hair down to cover his ears. He already got enough looks for his dark skin, and white hair, but in that brief moment, Cain realized Ysolde likely knew more about them than she let on. After all, Ysolde was a broker of information as much as goods.
"Actually," Cain added, turning back to Ysolde, "if you have a moment, I'd like to discuss something privately." He inclined his head toward the far end of the office, where a thick wooden door led to a quieter salon Ysolde used for confidential meetings.
Ysolde's lips twitched knowingly. "Of course." She gestured for an attendant to secure the lockbox, then to the twins she said, "Why don't you two help yourselves to some refreshments in the atrium? I'll have spiced tea and pastries brought out."
Callum didn't need to be told twice – the mention of pastries had him practically dragging Calanthe by the arm toward the sun-lit atrium down the hall. "We won't be far," Calanthe assured Cain, sensing he wanted a word alone. Cain gave her a grateful nod as the twins exited, leaving him and Ysolde in the office.
Ysolde led Cain through the side door into a small parlor adorned with maps and curios from distant lands. A glass decanter of wine sat on a side table; she poured two cups of rich red Cintran wine and offered one to Cain. "To a successful partnership," she toasted softly.
Cain clinked his cup to hers and took a sip. The wine was spiced and warm, calming his travel-worn nerves. He got straight to the point. "Ysolde, I appreciate all the jobs you've funneled our way. It's helped us alot. But you know I'm aiming higher than just one-off contracts."
She raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
Cain set down the cup, the light from the stained-glass window catching in his gold Witcher eyes. "You have your ear to the ground. What's happening out there in the wider world? Which way are the winds blowing? I need to know where a man like me can build real power and reputation in the coming months even for being a half elf and a Witcher. We've only got so much time before… before bigger events start unfolding."
Ysolde studied him shrewdly. She had long suspected Cain had more knowledge and potential beyond what a simple sellsword or even a Witcher might normally be capable of – the way he sometimes plans for the future in ways some most dont think about.
Meressa's letter had vouched for Cain's importance, and Ysolde trusted Meressa's judgment. "You're wise to ask," Ysolde said, moving to one of her maps pinned on the wall. It showed the Northern Kingdoms and parts of the Nilfgaardian Empire to the south. Tiny colored pins marked trade routes and points of interest.
She traced a finger along Temeria. "Here in Temeria, King Foltest holds a fragile peace. But Nilfgaard presses from the south as always." Her finger drifted lower, toward the edge of the map. "War isn't on our doorstep yet, but give it a few years… tensions simmer."
Cain folded his arms, listening intently. He knew of these tensions well; whether by his own experiences or other sources, he was keenly aware that the world could change drastically if full-scale war ignited again.
"The Scoia'tael—non-human guerillas—grow bolder in the east," Ysolde continued. She tapped the Blue Mountains and the forests in Aedirn. "Elves and dwarves, pushed to the brink, ready to take up arms. The kingdoms crack down harder in response. It's a vicious cycle."
Cain's jaw tightened. As a Witcher, he was told by Geralt to stay neutral, but he had seen the ugliness of racial conflicts. If helping the downtrodden non-humans could win him allies and moral high ground, it was worth considering. "So tensions between humans and non-humans are escalating," he summarized.
"Indeed. And then there are murmurs of magic behaving erratically in some places," Ysolde added in a lower tone. "I've heard talk from Oxenfurt and Ban Ard of ley lines being disturbed." She glanced at Cain meaningfully. "Some rogue sorcerer out east meddling with powers he ought not. The Brotherhood of Sorcerers is concerned, but moving slowly. If a Witcher with the right connections were to intervene… well, that could earn him considerable favor."
Cain couldn't suppress a slight smile. She was painting a clear picture: political strife, racial turmoil, magical instability. It was a world ripe with both danger and opportunity for someone like him. "Any suggestions on where to make our mark first?" he asked. "We have a few leads—"
Ysolde returned his smile. "The letter Meressa gave you for that Temerian officer, Barsek, could get you involved on the magic side, if that's what you mean. The rumor of the sorcerer in the east, yes." She waved a hand. "But stepping directly into a mage's affair might be… premature for now."
Cain inclined his head. He respected her perspective. Jumping into a confrontation with a rogue sorcerer could be high risk at their current strength, even if the reward was high. "And the other option?"
Ysolde stepped away from the map and faced Cain squarely. "Build your reputation among those who need a new hero. Not the kings or nobles, not yet—they have their own agendas. I'm talking about the common folk and the marginalized." Her voice softened, thoughtful. "The elves, for instance. The dwarves. The ones human nobility turn a blind eye to. If you help them, they will remember. And as their fortunes rise, so will yours."
Cain considered that. He thought of the elven refugees he'd seen on the road, camping in tattered tents after being driven from their homes. Perhaps Ysolde was right—earning the loyalty of the elder races could give him a foundation of support outside the usual power structure. "Do you have contacts among non-humans?" he asked.
Ysolde's lips quirked. "Cain, I have contacts everywhere." She moved to a locked cabinet and withdrew a rolled parchment. Spreading it on the table, she revealed a detailed map of Aedirn's eastern region. Her finger landed on a valley marked with elven script: Dol Blathanna – the Valley of the Flowers. "This place. Once elven territory, now technically part of Aedirn but largely autonomous under an elven leader. Elves from all over are slowly gathering here, trying to rebuild a fragment of what they lost."
Cain nodded. He knew of Dol Blathanna from his past memories—a land where the elves hoped to live freely, though human politics still touched it. "Francesca Findabair rules there, if I recall—an elf sorceress."
"The very same," Ysolde confirmed. "She's secured a measure of recognition for Dol Blathanna. It's a fledgling sanctuary. If you arrive there with some goodwill and a record of helping your fellow non-humans, you could establish yourself quickly."
Cain ran a gloved finger along the road leading into Dol Blathanna. It wouldn't be an easy journey: the route wound through mountains and dense forests, places crawling with monsters and Scoia'tael commandos. "What kind of work would they even accept from an outsider like me? Elves aren't exactly trusting of Witchers."
Ysolde smiled shrewdly. "True, but you won't be a stranger—I'll make sure of that. I can arrange a few special contracts on your way east. Low-profile but high-impact jobs: bodyguard duty for a known non-human diplomat, couriering sensitive supplies to Dol Blathanna through dangerous territory, maybe even smuggling medicines or arms that the elves desperately need but can't obtain openly."
She ticked off each on her fingers, and Cain felt a spark of anticipation. These were exactly the kinds of missions that would both build his reputation and test his abilities. "Smuggling and courier work… You know, we did get our feet wet with that this week," he said wryly, thinking of the lockbox and other packages they'd snuck past checkpoints.
Ysolde laughed softly. "And you did splendidly. I have no doubt you can handle a bit more." She rolled the map up and handed it to Cain. "I'll write you a sealed referral to an elven caravan leader I know. They'll depart from Temerian borders towards Dol Blathanna in one week's time. I'll ensure you and your companions are part of the entourage as guards."
Cain took the map and nodded, a determined gleam in his eyes. "Thank you, Ysolde. For everything." He meant it sincerely – her guidance felt like setting a compass straight.
Ysolde's expression gentled, and she reached out to briefly touch Cain's forearm. "Just remember me when you're famous," she teased lightly. Then her tone grew fond. "Meressa was right about you. You're going to shake things up in this world, Cain, and I'm glad I could help set you on your path."
At the mention of Meressa – Lady Meressa, the twins' mother and the woman whose letter had opened so many doors – Cain felt a familiar mix of warmth and regret in his chest. "Meressa's done more for me than I can ever repay," he said quietly.
Ysolde's gaze searched his face for a moment, noting the flicker of emotion. "Take good care of her children, then. That will be thanks enough, I wager."
Cain straightened. "I intend to. With my life." There was no mistaking the resolve in his voice.
Before they left the parlor, Ysolde produced a quill and parchment and hastily penned two letters: one an introduction to the caravan leader in Aedirn, the other a short list of contacts and safe houses along the route east that could assist Cain if needed. She pressed her signet ring into wax on both and handed them over. "These will smooth your way."
Cain slipped the letters carefully into an inner pocket of his leather jerkin. As he did, a familiar soft chime echoed at the back of his mind and a message appeared.
> [Quest Updated: Road to Dol Blathanna] – New objectives acquired. Establish reputation among the elves. Bonus objective: Investigate magical disturbances in the eastern regions.
He allowed himself a small smile at the system's confirmation. Things were falling into place. "Looks like the path is set," he murmured.
Ysolde tilted her head. "Hm?"
Cain cleared his throat, realizing he'd spoken aloud. He waved it off. "Just thinking out loud. The path ahead, yes." He offered his hand one more time. "Until we meet again, Ysolde."
She clasped his hand firmly. "Until then, Cain. May fortune favor you."
Cain left the private room and found the twins in the atrium as promised, nibbling on honey-glazed pastries. Callum had two in hand and was animatedly describing something to Calanthe – likely some gossip he picked up in town. Calanthe looked up as Cain approached. "Everything sorted?" she asked.
Cain gave a single, affirmative nod. He felt lighter than he had in days; they had a clear destination and plan now. "Yes. We'll finish preparations and depart in one week's time."