Sebastian finally tore his gaze away from Cyprian and looked at Alonso. His expression was carefully neutral.
'Friends of Master Dandelion,' Sebastian thought. 'If only you knew...'
Lambert took a step closer to the desk, his hand rested on his sword hilt.
"Velm of Tretogor," Lambert said. "He's here to sell you some paintings, apparently valuable ones." He paused. "We want to be present for that transaction, if it is real."
Alonso's eyebrows rose. "You want to attend a private business meeting, between me and a trader I've never met." He let out a soft laugh. "Forgive me, witcher, but that is not how I operate. Especially not in Novigrad, especially not with me."
"The trader owes me money," Lambert said flatly. "He's agreed to pay me out of the proceeds of your transaction."
Alonso's expression did not change, but something flickered behind his eyes.
"I see," Alonso said slowly. "And the bard? Master Dandelion? What is your interest in him? You said you were friends right, surely he doesn't owe you money."
Lambert glanced at Sebastian. Sebastian nodded almost imperceptibly.
"A friend," Sebastian said. "I'm looking for him, he's been in Novigrad, we heard. We thought you might know where he is. Given your... appreciation for his work."
Cyprian laughed. "Appreciation, that's one word for it. My father has every ballad Dandelion has ever written. He's got a collection of first-edition sheet music that would make the Hierarch weep." He looked at his father with something that might have been fondness, or might have been mockery. "He's a huge fan."
Alonso waved a hand, dismissing his son's tone. "I am a patron of the arts, witchers. I support those who bring beauty into a world that is often ugly. Master Dandelion is a genius, his ballads capture the human condition in ways that scholars and philosophers cannot." He paused. "Also, they're very catchy."
Lambert stared at him. "So you know where he is?"
Alonso's smile was thin. "I might. I might not, that depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you're telling me the truth about Velm of Tretogor, and on whether I decide to trust you." Alonso leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into Lambert's. "Trust is valuable in my line of work, witcher. More valuable than gold, more valuable than paintings. More valuable, even, than a debt of thousands of crowns."
Lambert held his gaze. "I don't care about your trust. I care about my money, and my snake of a friend."
Alonso studied him for a long moment, then his smile returned but not unfriendly.
"I like you, witcher," Alonso said. "You're direct, no flattery and no lies. That's rare." He glanced at his son. "Cyprian, what do you think?"
Cyprian was looking at Sebastian. The two young men stared at each other across the room, one the heir to a criminal empire, the other a witcher on his first Path. There was something in Cyprian's expression that Sebastian did not like.
"I think," Cyprian said slowly, "that we should hear them out. At least, maybe there is something they can do for us, that debt doesn't sound that big of deal for us."
Alonso nodded. He turned back to Lambert.
"Very well," Alonso said. "You will be present for the transaction, but my men will be watching you. If you try anything, the only thing your friend Dandelion will be writing is an elegy." He paused. "For you."
Lambert nodded. "Fair enough, but no need for threats."
"My apologies, I know it might seem absurd to threaten a professional monster slayer, but it is necessary in my line of work.. and about Dandelion," Alonso continued, "I will consider telling you what I know, after the transaction. When I have my paintings, and when you have your money."
Lambert's jaw tightened, but he did not argue. "Fine."
Alonso smiled. "Then it's settled," He said. He clapped his hands once, "Cyprian, show our guests to the waiting room, make sure they're comfortable." His eyes lingered on Sebastian. "And Cyprian?"
"Yes, Father?"
"Be polite."
Cyprian's smile was sharp. "Always."
He gestured toward a door at the far end of the room. "This way, witchers."
The waiting room was smaller than Alonso's office, but no less elegant. A fireplace crackled against the far wall, flanked by two high-backed chairs, a table between them held a decanter of amber liquid. Paintings hung on the walls, more landscapes, more hunting scenes, more evidence of a man trying to buy culture with coin.
Sebastian stood near the window, his arms crossed, his back to the room. Through the grimy glass, he could see the rooftops of Novigrad stretching toward the harbor, the masts of ships.
Lambert had lowered himself into one of the chairs. He had not touched the alcohol. His yellow eyes were fixed on the door through which Cyprian had disappeared, presumably to consult with his father about the arrangements.
Sebastian's thoughts were elsewhere.
'Why do I feel like this Cyprian fool is thinking something behind his father's back?'
The question echoed in his mind, unanswered.
'If I remember correctly,' Sebastian thought, 'he assassinates him at some point.'
'Bastard is hiding pretty well the fact that he is a sick degenerate too,' Sebastian thought.
'I should kill him when I get the chance.'
The thought surprised him with its intensity. He was a witcher, he killed monsters, and to him, this was one.
'I would be doing the world a favor.'
He turned from the window as the door opened.
Cyprian Wiley entered alone, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His smile was back in place, but his eyes were sharper now. "Well then, gentlemen," Cyprian said, spreading his hands. "I have a proposition, one that might be able to use your... unique set of skills."
Lambert did not move from the chair, he did not even uncross his legs.
"I don't think we have time for a job," Lambert said flatly.
Cyprian's smile widened. "Oh, no, no. The pay will be very much worth it, I assure you. I never betray my friends, you see." His eyes flicked to Lambert, and his smile took on an edge. "Unlike your friend Viktor."
Sebastian saw Lambert's jaw tighten.
Before Lambert could respond, before he could say something that would inevitably make the situation worse, Sebastian stepped forward. He positioned himself between Lambert and Cyprian.
"What do you want?" Sebastian asked.
Cyprian's gaze settled on him, the smile did not waver.
"What could I possibly want from two witchers?" Cyprian said. He began to pace, slowly, casually, as if he had all the time in the world. "I have a monster problem."
Sebastian's eyebrows rose, Lambert sat up slightly straighter.
"There is a huge sewer system under Novigrad," Cyprian continued. "Old tunnels, cellars. Catacombs, the kind of place that the Temple Guard pretends doesn't exist and the city planners pretend they sealed off centuries ago.." He stopped pacing and turned to face them. "It's perfect, fit to be an underground fighting ring, the kind of place where men come to bet on blood and come to watch men die." His eyes glittered. "It would generate a lot of coin."
Lambert's expression was unreadable. "And?"
"And my father is stupid." Cyprian's voice dropped, losing its theatrical warmth. "He doesn't realize how great of a chance this is to move up the ladder. To expand, to become something more than a collector of paintings and a landlord to whores." He shook his head. "He's content and comfortable, he doesn't see that comfort is a cage."
Sebastian said nothing.
"There is a monster problem there," Cyprian said, getting back on track. "I don't know what the fuck lurks in the depths, surely something mean, something that doesn't like visitors. It's already killed a lot of my men, I couldn't recognize them at times." His jaw tightened. "The place is off limits, for now. I want you to go clear it out and I'll pay you."
He stepped closer to Sebastian. "I'll pay you as much as what this Velm fellow, or Viktor, or whatever the fuck they're called, owes you. And I'll even take care of him for you." Cyprian raised his eyebrows. "I'm good at dealing with men not monsters, so what say you, eh? Not a bad deal."
Lambert considered it. Sebastian could see the calculation behind his eyes, the weighing of risk against reward, the assessment of whether this slippery bastard could be trusted even as far as they could throw him.
Sebastian, meanwhile, was thinking.
'He seems like he really wants this done..'
The desperation was there, beneath the charm. Cyprian Wiley was a man who had spent his entire life in his father's shadow, and he was tired of the dark, he wanted something of his own, something that would prove he was more than just the heir to a criminal empire.
'I'll see how far he can go with this.'
Sebastian smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"We'll do it," Sebastian said.
Lambert's head snapped toward him. "Seb.."
"We'll do it," Sebastian repeated, holding up a hand to silence Lambert. "And we'll take the coin once the job is done."
Cyprian's smile widened. "Excellent. I knew you were reasonable.."
"But I still have one more condition."
Cyprian's smile faltered. "The coin isn't bloody enough for you?!"
"No." Sebastian shook his head. "The coin is fine. But.." he tilted his head."..since a lot of your men have already tried to scout the place and failed, even dying there, you seem to know a lot about this. The tunnels, the layout, I want you to accompany us."
Cyprian stared at Sebastian, "Accompany you," Cyprian repeated slowly.
"It's simple." Sebastian's voice was light, casual. "Two witchers, you'll be safe, we're the best at what we do. Once we find the monster, you can stay back, well out of danger and we'll take care of it." He paused. "Unless you're afraid."
Cyprian's eyes narrowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, curled into fists.
"Then it's settled."
Lambert was staring at Sebastian now, he had not expected this, but he realized Seb was planning something.
Cyprian was quiet for a long moment. His eyes bored into Sebastian's yellow ones, searching for something a bluff, a trap, a weakness.
Sebastian gave him nothing.
"Very well," Cyprian said finally. His voice was tight. "Alright, but only alongside my men, we can do that." He pointed a finger at Sebastian's chest. "But you keep me alive, witcher. That's part of the deal. If I die down there, you don't get paid."
Sebastian's smile returned. "Wouldn't dream of letting anything happen to you."
/-\
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