The road out of Ard Carraigh had quickly given way to quieter ground, in the outskirts of the city, there was less noise, fewer people, and a strange kind of calm that didn't feel natural for land so close to a capital city of a great kingdom.
Sebastian noticed it first, the very air changed before the estate even came into view, and then the manor appeared.
It was large, far larger than anything that belonged this far outside the city walls. Stone foundations, tall iron gates, gardens that stretched outward in carefully maintained symmetry.
Seb slowed his horse and his eyes swept across the estate slowly, taking it all in.
"The tavern keeper wasn't joking around…"
Vesemir, riding slightly behind him, gave a low grunt.
"He wasn't. And places like this…" his gaze shifted toward the manor, sharp and experienced, "are always the same, this polished wealth… there is always something rotten underneath it all. Misfortune doesn't like small homes, It prefers comfort."
Seb glanced at him.
"That sounded poetic."
"No that's experience talking, I've seen my fair share of places like this."
Seb let out a quiet breath, then nodded toward the gate.
"Let's meet this count."
They approached at a steady pace.
The moment they came close enough, the guards stiffened.
Steel came up instantly.
"Halt. Not a step closer!"
Sebastian didn't reach for his sword. Vesemir didn't either. They simply slowed their horses.
Then one of the guards narrowed his eyes.
"Wait…"
His grip loosened slightly.
"Two swords… the eyes…"
He turned sharply toward his companion.
"They're Witchers."
The first guard hesitated, then lowered his weapon reluctantly.
"Oh… right. My apologies, master witchers. I didn't..."
Seb raised a hand slightly.
"It's fine."
His tone was calm, unbothered.
"We're here for the contract. The notice mentioned your Count Wilfrid. We need to speak with him directly."
The guard nodded quickly, stepping aside.
"Yes, of course. Right this way."
The gates opened with a heavy creak,
The change was immediate when they stepped inside.
From outside, it had looked like wealth, and everything was roses and sunshine.
Inside, it felt extremly wrong, the gardens were still green, technically, but it was the kind of green that felt drained of life. The roses looked too perfect in a way that suggested no living thing had the courage to disturb them. Even the fountain, though flowing, it felt muted.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned everything, something here was off.
"This place…" he said under his breath. "Something is seriously wrong here."
Vesemir didn't answer as he was watching too.
"I agree."
As they walked, Seb turned slightly toward the guard escorting them.
"One thing I've noticed is that there is no guards at all inside, and no servants too... an estate this big and there's only two of you left?"
The guard hesitated before answering, like the words still tasted bad.
"Yes… there used to be more. A lot more actually, guards, servants… the estate was full and lively."
"And now?"
He paused for a second.
"Something happend, and a few servants died, they just… died within the grounds of the estate, we have no idea what killed them so the others fled, even after the Count offered them double pay. They didn't even take the coin they were due."
Seb exchanged a brief look with Vesemir.
The older witcher's expression had hardened slightly.
"And this started after the lady fell ill?" Vesemir asked.
The guard nodded.
"Yes, the deaths happened after she got ill, that's when it began. Everyone says she's cursed. I… I honestly think so too."
They reached the inner garden.
The guard stopped.
"That's him."
Count Wilfrid sat alone on an elegant curved stone bench, surrounded by roses that looked too carefully tended for a man in his condition. His posture was slumped, his face pale with exhaustion, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
He looked like someone who hadn't slept in days.
Then he noticed them.
And everything changed.
His head snapped up, eyes widening in sudden hope.
"Oh my… Witchers?! The gods have answered me!"
He stood so quickly he nearly stumbled forward.
"You're here for my wife, yes?!"
Vesemir answered first.
"Yes. We saw your notice."
The Count almost laughed in relief, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it.
"It doesn't matter if there are two of you, three of you, ten of you! whatever coin you ask, I'll pay it. Just save her, something is killing her, I know it!"
Seb's eyes still scanning the estate even as the Count spoke.
He wasn't listening just to the words.
"Calm down," Seb said finally, voice steady but firm enough to cut through the Count's panic. "We need details before anything else."
Wilfrid blinked at him.
"What?"
Seb stepped closer,
"Your notice was vague. 'Illness. Possible curse. Possible possession.' That's not enough to work with. Tell us everything. When it started. What changed. What she says, what she does, what others have seen."
His gaze held the Count's firmly.
"Everything matters, so please do share everything if you want your wife to be saved, if she is truly cursed every detail is important."
Brief silence followed.
The Count slowly lowered himself back onto the curved stone bench, one hand rested on his thigh, the other drifting absently toward the roses beside him, then stopping, as if even touching them now felt wrong.
For a moment, he simply stared at them.
Then he spoke, voice calmer from mental exhaustion.
"Of course, master witcher… I shall tell you everything. In full."
Sebastian didn't move. Vesemir didn't interrupt.
The Count swallowed once, gathering himself.
"I was away from the estate on important business. Matters of trade, negotiations… nothing unusual. I leave everything here as I always do. My wife oversees the household, the servants manage the grounds. It has never been a problem before."
His eyes drifted back toward the garden, as if searching for the moment everything had started to rot.
"On my return from my last trip, at first everything was fine."
He paused for a moment.
"She was fine. Speaking, laughing… herself. Then she grew quieter. It wasn't sudden, this happened gradually over time."
His fingers tightened slightly against his leg.
"Then she stopped leaving our chambers. Claimed she was tired, said the air in the corridors felt… wrong. The fever came after that, though it doesn't behave like any illness I've ever seen. Some days she recognizes me. Other days…" his voice faltered slightly, "other days she looks at me like I'm a stranger standing in her home."
Sebastian's eyes remained steady.
The Count continued, even quieter now.
"I thought… perhaps distance would help. I thought if I gave her space, if I let the staff care for her instead of being around her too much, she might recover. So I left the room to them. I stayed nearby, of course, but not inside. For her sake."
He exhaled, bitterly.
"And then the staff began saying things."
Vesemir shifted slightly beside Seb, arms still folded.
"What things?" the older witcher asked.
The Count hesitated.
"They said they heard her speaking at night. When she was supposed to be asleep. Whispering, sometimes even arguing with someone who wasn't there."
His gaze hardened slightly, as if he still wanted to disbelieve it.
"But when they entered the room…" his voice dropped, "she was alone. Always alone."
Sebastian finally spoke.
"Did she ever mention seeing anything herself?"
That question seemed to press against something fragile in the Count's mind. He took longer to answer this time.
"Yes."
He looked toward the roses again, slower now, almost reluctant.
"The one place she still insisted on going… was here, this garden. She planted those roses herself, years ago, she said they helped her think."
An uneasy smile appeared on his face, then vanished.
"And I recently heard her say alone in her room… that the garden looked different at night."
His voice tightened slightly.
"That the roses were… listening."
The Count shook his head faintly, almost ashamed.
"It sounded like nonsense at the time. I told myself she was simply unwell. That illness, isolation… they can do strange things to the mind."
His hand clenched once.
"But I've been sitting here for days now, trying to see what she meant. Watching. Waiting. Listening! And all I've found is silence! Nothing!"
His breath grew heavier.
"And now she's getting worse. And I…" He hesitated, voice dropping lower. "I don't know anymore whether I'm trying to save her… or prove I'm not losing my mind too."
Vesemir's expression softened only slightly, in the way of someone who had seen too many men arrive at that same edge.
Sebastian stepped forward just enough to bring the conversation back into control.
"Alright," he said calmly. "That's a start."
He glanced briefly toward the estate behind them, the house, the corridors, the unseen rooms where the wife waited.
"We should go see your wife now, and we can continue from there."
/-\
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