The morning light was cruel and unforgiving, slicing through the windows of the Passiflora. Dandelion groaned, pulling a silk pillow over his face in a futile attempt to block out the world. Beside him, Zoltan lay sprawled across a chaise lounge, one arm draped over his eyes, his snoring loud enough to rattle the chandeliers.
Sebastian stood over them both, already dressed, his gear secured, he was amused by this scene.
"Rise and shine," Sebastian said, he had not spent the previous day drinking himself into oblivion compared to both of them. "We have a haunted house to investigate."
Dandelion's response was muffled by the pillow. "Go away. I'm dead."
"You're not dead. You're hungover, there's a difference."
"Is there? I can't tell."
Zoltan groaned, shifting on the chaise lounge. "Lad, if you value your life, you'll let us sleep for another hour. Or two. Or three."
Sebastian crossed his arms. "We made a deal. Haunted house, then Vizima. Remember?"
Dandelion removed the pillow and squinted up at him with bloodshot eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Sebastian's smile was thin. "Immensely, now get your ass up."
Half an hour later, they emerged from the Passiflora into the bright morning. Dandelion was still pale and squinting, his usually impeccable appearance somewhat disheveled. Zoltan looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backward, but he was upright, which was more than could be said for some.
Sebastian led the way to the stables, where his mare was waiting, "C'mon Mare.."
Dandelion eyed her warily.
"You named your mare 'Mare'?" Dandelion asked. "That's what you call her?"
Sebastian shrugged. "I didn't know what to name her, it stuck."
Zoltan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "You're worse than Geralt, lad. At least he named his horse Roach."
"Roach is a fine name," Sebastian said, mounting the mare. He extended a hand to Dandelion. "Get on."
Dandelion hesitated. "I have my own horse. Somewhere.."
Zoltan snorted. "It's in the Seven Cats Inn's stable, you dimwit! You left it there three days ago."
Dandelion's face lit up with recognition. "Ah, yes! The Seven Cats Inn. I remember now. It was a rather pleasant establishment. The barmaid had a lovely laugh and an even lovelier..."
"Get on the horse," Sebastian said flatly.
Dandelion sighed dramatically and allowed himself to be hoisted onto the mare's back. "Fine. At least I'm not walking."
Zoltan fell into step beside them, his short legs working hard to keep pace. "We'll get your horse soon enough. And for me, since I'm not walking all the way to Vizima."
They made their way through the streets of Novigrad, the morning crowds parting around them. The city was already bustling, merchants hawking their wares, children running between the legs of adults, the ever-present priests of the Eternal Fire gliding through the masses like sharks through murky water.
They reached Glory Lane, and Dandelion pointed triumphantly at a notice board near the corner. "Ha! The notice board! Apparently, it's still there... that haunted house notice."
Sebastian approached the board, his eyes scanning the various papers pinned to its surface. He found the one Dandelion had mentioned, a weathered piece of parchment, its edges curling, its ink faded but still legible.
He pulled it free and read aloud:
"Notice to all capable individuals: The estate at 14 Harborside Lane is afflicted with a presence most foul. Strange noises, inexplicable occurrences, and the appearance of a specter have driven all previous occupants from the premises. A reward of four hundred crowns is offered to any who can rid the property of its unwanted inhabitant. Additionally, the property itself is offered at a substantial discount to whomever resolves the issue. Inquire with me the owner, Vogler, who resides at 16 Harborside Lane. I'm eager to be rid of this burden."
Sebastian lowered the paper. "You want that house, Dandelion?"
Dandelion's grin was wide, his hangover seemingly forgotten. "Why not? I have great plans for what I'll turn it into. A tavern, perhaps. Or a theater. Or a tavern AND a theater."
Sebastian sighed. "Let's go. It's not far from here. The one who posted this notice mentioned that he lives nearby, should be easy to find him."
Dandelion clapped his hands together. "Brilliant!"
Zoltan, trudging behind them, muttered under his breath. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
Sebastian glanced back at him, a smile on his face. "Because you're the smart one."
They continued through the city, the streets growing narrower and more dilapidated as they approached Harborside. The buildings here were older, their facades weathered by salt air and neglect. The smell of the harbor was strong, fish, brine.
They stopped in front of a modest house at number 16. It was unremarkable, its paint peeling, its windows dark. Sebastian knocked on the door.
A moment later, it opened.
The man who stood before them was thin and nervous, his eyes darting. He looked like a man who had not slept well in a very long time.
"Are you Vogler?" Sebastian asked.
The man nodded, his eyes fixing on Sebastian's medallion. "You're a witcher! Finally! I was starting to think no one would come.."
Sebastian held up the notice. "We're here about the house."
Vogler's face lit up with desperate hope. "Please, come in. We have much to discuss."
Sebastian glanced at Dandelion and Zoltan. Dandelion was already beaming. Zoltan was already sighing and they followed Vogler inside.
The interior of Vogler's place was cramped and cluttered, Vogler gestured for them to sit, but there was nowhere to sit. Dandelion cleared a space on a rickety chair, sending a cascade of papers to the floor. Zoltan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his expression skeptical. Sebastian remained standing, his yellow eyes fixed on the man.
"About your other house," Sebastian said, his voice calm and steady. "I need every detail possible. Tell me everything you saw, everything you noticed."
Vogler wrung his hands together, his eyes darting nervously between the three of them. He was a thin man, his face gaunt, his hair thinning. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his clothes hung loosely on his frame, as if he had lost weight recently and had not yet adjusted.
"I know, I know," Vogler said, his voice trembling. "I'll tell you all I know. But I'm afraid you won't believe me."
Sebastian gave him a reassuring smile. "Try me."
Vogler took a deep breath. He seemed to steady himself, drawing on some hidden reserve of courage.
"Well," Vogler began, "for starters, everyone who enters the house will start hallucinating."
Sebastian's eyebrow rose. "Hallucinating?"
Dandelion leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Hallucinating what? Ghosts? Demons? Naked dancing ladies?"
Vogler shook his head. "All sorts of things. And not just seeing things, hearing things, smelling things, feeling things that aren't there. One man, a carpenter I hired to fix the roof, told me he saw someone sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading a book. Another, a young woman who came to clean, said she heard her mother's voice calling her name from the cellar. She ran out screaming and never came back."
Zoltan's brow furrowed. "That sounds more like a curse than a haunting. Or maybe some kind of gas in the house. Dwarven mines used to have problems like that... fumes that made you see things."
Vogler shook his head vehemently. "No, no, it's not gas. I had a mage check for that. He said there was nothing wrong with the air, but he refused to go inside. Said the house had... a presence... Something malevolent..."
"Go on," Sebastian said.
Vogler continued, his voice growing more urgent. "It's not just hallucinations. People who stay too long start to forget things. Their memories get... scrambled. One man, a guard I hired to watch the place overnight, woke up the next morning with no idea who he was. It took him three days to remember his own name."
Dandelion's face had lost its usual cheerfulness. "That's... not a normal haunting... Right Seb?"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "No."
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information, searching for patterns, for possibilities.
"Tell me about the previous owner," Sebastian said. "The one who sold the property to you."
Vogler's face paled. "He was a mage. An old one, from what I heard. He lived in the house for decades, but he never came out. People would see him at the windows sometimes, just standing there, watching. After he died, the house was put up for sale. I bought it thinking it was a bargain." He laughed bitterly. "It was a bargain. I just didn't realize what I was bargaining for."
Sebastian nodded slowly. "Do you have any records of the mage? His name? His belongings?"
Vogler shook his head. "I have a few documents, the deed, some letters, but they don't say much."
Sebastian reached into his belt and pulled out a small leather pouch. He opened it, revealing a collection of dried herbs and crystals. "I need to see those documents and letters, and the house," Sebastian said. "Tonight, if possible."
Vogler's eyes widened with alarm. "Tonight? Are you sure? The house is at its worst after dark."
Sebastian's smile was thin. "That's exactly when I want to see it."
Vogler looked at Sebastian with a mixture of hope and dread. "You're really going to do this? You're really going to go in there?"
Sebastian met his gaze. "That's what I'm paid for."
/-\
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