Sebastian stepped forward, his boots crunching against the gravel of the road. The circle of stones surface was dark and weathered. Each stone bore faint markings, symbols visible to those who knew how to read them. The figure in the center remained motionless, its hooded head bowed. Sebastian's medallion trembled against his chest with increasing intensity, each vibration a warning, he raised his hand, signaling the soldiers to hold their positions.
"Stay back," Sebastian called out, his yellow eyes fixed on the figure ahead. "All of you. Do not approach."
The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, their formation shifting as they let Sebastian walk alone. Sir Loran's hand rested on his sword, but he did not argue. He had seen enough in his years of service to know when to trust the instincts of a professional, and his own instincts were screaming that something was deeply wrong about that hooded man.
Sebastian walked slowly, his steel sword drawn, his steps were slow, each one bringing him closer to the silent figure. The grass beneath his feet had begun to wither, its green fading to brown as the magic of the circle leached the life from the earth.
"Who are you?" Sebastian's voice cut through the silence. "You realize you are blocking the road, don't you? This is not a place for idle contemplation or dark rituals."
The figure did not move. The hood remained lowered, the hands remained raised, frozen in that gesture of silent prayer. For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then the figure spoke. Its voice was low and rasping.
"The king is there, isn't he?" The words seemed to echo." In the carriage, surrounded by his guards. I can feel his presence like a flame in the darkness, a beacon that draws the moths to their doom."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his sword. "Another assassin," he said, his voice flat, carrying no surprise. "You are not the first, and I suspect you will not be the last."
The figure rose, casting aside the hood to reveal a face lined with age and marked with the unmistakable signs of a life spent in pursuit of power, and in his hands, he held a staff of twisted black wood, its surface crackling with magic. He wore robes of deep crimson, and his fingers were adorned with rings that glowed with an inner light.
"You do not know what you are protecting, witcher," the mage said in contempt. "Foltest is a tyrant, a puppet of the mages who seek to control the North. He does not deserve your loyalty or service. He does not deserve to live."
Sebastian's voice was cold. "I am not protecting him because he deserves it. I am protecting him because I was hired to do so, and I do not break my contracts."
The mage laughed. "So you sell your skills to the highest bidder. How noble, how honorable. You are nothing but a mercenary with a sword and a flair for the dramatic.."
Sebastian's smile was thin, carrying no warmth. "I do have ulterior motives of course, and you sell your soul for the promise of power, I know what kind of mage you are, this magic of yours is killing life around you... only one explanation.."
The mage's eyes flashed with anger, his composure cracking as Sebastian's words struck home. He raised his staff, and lightning erupted from its tip, a blinding arc of blue-white energy that streaked toward Sebastian with the speed of thought.
Sebastian was ready. His hand shot up, fingers curling into the sign of Quen, and a shimmering barrier of golden light materialized around him. The lightning struck the barrier, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air, but Sebastian held firm, his feet planted, his body braced against the force of the attack.
The mage pressed his assault, sending a barrage of lightning and wind toward Sebastian, each strike more powerful than the last. The air around them crackled with energy, the ground scorched by the passing bolts, and the soldiers behind them scrambled to maintain their distance.
Sebastian danced between the attacks, his body moving with the fluid grace, he used Aard to deflect a blast of wind, the telekinetic force sending the mage's attack spiraling harmlessly into the sky. He used Quen to shield himself from a bolt of lightning that would have incinerated a lesser man.
The mage's attacks grew more desperate, more erratic, as he realized that his opponent was not falling. He sent a tornado of wind and debris hurtling toward Sebastian, but the witcher leaped over it properly himself with flames, his body twisting in midair, his sword flashing as he landed.
"You are good.." the mage admitted. "But not good enough. No man has ever bested me, and you will not be the first."
He gathered his power, the air around him crackling with electricity, and unleashed a massive bolt of lightning aimed directly at Sebastian's heart.
Sebastian moved to dodge, but the lightning grazed his hand, searing the flesh and sending a jolt of pain through his entire body. He staggered, and for a moment, it seemed as though the mage had found the chance to finish him.
Then Sebastian's eyes burned with fire.
He raised his hand, and flames erupted from his hand, a fist of pure hot fire that streaked toward the mage with the force of a meteor. The mage's eyes widened in shock as he tried to raise a magic shield, but the flames were too fast, too powerful, the shield broke and they struck his staff, shattering it into a thousand burning fragments, and Sebastian followed with a powerful fire slash that severed the mage's arm at the elbow.
The mage screamed, a sound of pure agony that echoed through the hills, as he fell to his knees, clutching the stump of his arm. The lightning died, the winds fell silent. Sebastian stood over him, his sword pointed at the mage's throat.
"That was no magic... of a witcher..." the mage gasped, his eyes wide with shock, his face pale with blood loss. "What... what are you?"
Sebastian's voice was flat. "I am what the world made me. Now speak, or I will allow you to bleed out here and now. You have one chance to tell me who sent you, and I will not ask twice."
The mage smiled, a bloodstained smile. "You might as well kill me, witcher. I will not betray my masters.. They would do worse to me than you ever could."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "At this point, you will die of blood loss anyway. But I will not let that happen. You will talk eventually. I have all the time in the world, and I am very patient."
He pressed his sword against the mage's severed arm, and flames erupted from the blade, searing the wound closed. The mage howled in pain, his body convulsing, but the bleeding stopped.
Sebastian turned to the soldiers. "Do you have dimeritium shackles?"
The soldiers were silent for a moment, their faces frozen in expressions of awe and disbelief at what they had just witnessed. Then one of them nodded, his voice stammering. "Aye... aye, we do. We carry them just in case."
He rushed forward, his hands shaking, and clamped the dimeritium shackles around the mage's remaining wrist. The mage collapsed, his magical abilities suppressed, his body too weak to resist.
Triss approached, her face pale, her eyes fixed on the mage with a mixture of horror and curiosity. Sir Loran stepped forward, "Do you know this mage, Lady Merigold? Have you seen him before?"
Triss shook her head slowly. "I do not recognize him. He is not from the Brotherhood, nor from any of the schools I know. Someone is recruiting powerful mages from the shadows, and I do not like it.."
"She cannot know every mage in the world. Some of them never stepped foot in Aretuza or any of the actual mage schools. They are self-taught, or trained in shadows, or they were cast out for reasons we will never know." Sebastian explained.
The captain nodded, turning to his men. "Take him. Make him walk the entire way to Mahakam and then to Rivia. He will talk. We will make sure of it. No rest, no mercy, no respite until he tells us everything, if he proves useless, we'll just feed him to the hounds."
He turned to Sebastian. "Thank you, witcher. You saved us from a great danger. That mage would have killed many of my men before we could have brought him down."
Sebastian nodded, his eyes still fixed on the mage. "He is a prisoner now, so do what you must, I'm afraid this won't be the last.."
From the carriage, Foltest's voice carried across the distance, warm with approval and relief. "Brilliant work, Sebastian! Absolutely brilliant! Once we reach the first checkpoint, I will question the bastard myself. We will find out who sent him, and we will make them pay."
Triss stepped closer to Sebastian, her eyes scanning his arm with concern. "You are hurt," she said. "Let me see it."
Sebastian glanced at the graze on his hand, dismissing it with a casual shrug. "He just grazed my arm. Nothing more. He was a tough mage, though. Stronger than I expected."
"This does not help our reputation at all... mages becoming assassins, hunting kings. People will use this to justify their hatred. It will only fuel the flames of suspicion." Triss said calmly.
"We cannot do anything about that. The world will believe what it wants. All we can do is keep fighting." Sebastian said as he looked away.
The captain's voice cut through the moment, commanding his men. "Alright, the threat is gone and the road is clear. We should keep moving. We are tight on time, and we cannot afford to linger here."
/-\
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