The afternoon had bled into evening by the time they reached the sewer entrance, a circular iron grate crusted with rust and worse things, set into the end at the intersection of two alleys that smelled of piss.
Cyprian Wiley had brought eight men. They were not the same thugs who had surrounded them in the alley earlier, these were harder, meaner. They carried torches and cudgels and short swords, and they moved like had been in the dark before and knew what waited there.
One of them, a bald giant with a missing ear opened the grate, it screeched against the stone, and the smell that rose from the opening made several of the men step back.
Sebastian did not step back, his yellow eyes staring into the darkness ahead, his medallion pressed flat against his chest. It was trembling, not the gentle vibration of distant magic, this was the kind of reaction that came from proximity to something truly wrong.
Lambert moved to stand beside him. He glanced at Sebastian's chest, at the shaking silver wolf, and his brow furrowed.
"What are you thinking, Seb?" Lambert asked. His voice was low.
Sebastian did not look away from the darkness. "You'll see."
Cyprian Wiley pushed through his men, positioning himself at the edge of the group. He had changed into practical clothes, dark leather, sturdy boots, a sword at his hip that looked like it had actually been used. A torch bearer stood on either side of him, their flames casting dancing shadows across his sharp features.
"Well then, boys," Cyprian said, clapping his hands together. "Time to work."
Sebastian's lips curved into something that was not a smile. "Oh boy." He touched his medallion, feeling it jump beneath his fingers. "Now that I'm standing here at the entrance, my medallion is trembling wildly."
Lambert's confusion was evident, so far he had no idea what Sebastian was doing, and why he even accepted this task in the first place.
Cyprian's smile faltered. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Sebastian turned to face him. In the torchlight, his yellow eyes seemed to glow.
"It means," Sebastian said slowly, "that I can say for sure this place is infested with monsters, you were right, the job is certainly dangerous." He glanced at Lambert. "It's good that there are two of us."
Cyprian's expression hardened. He did not like being reminded of the danger, he had spent the entire walk here assuring his men that the witchers would handle everything, that they had nothing to fear, that this was just a simple cleanup operation.
"That's what I've been saying," Cyprian said, recovering his composure. "I told you the place is a mess, that's why we need it cleared out, so?"
Sebastian nodded slowly. He let the silence stretch, let Cyprian wonder what was coming next.
"I'm afraid," Sebastian said, "we'll take half the pay now."
Cyprian's eyes narrowed. He studied Sebastian's face, the calm expression, the steady gaze, the complete lack of apology searching for any sign of deceit, any hint that this was a con rather than a negotiation.
Then Cyprian laughed. It was a short and humorless.
"Very well," Cyprian said. He reached into his belt pouch and withdrew a heavy leather sack. The coins inside clinked as he tossed it to Sebastian. "You can have it now, I hear witchers are professionals, so I'm not worried at all that you can't get this job done."
Sebastian caught the sack, he did not open it. He simply tucked it into his own belt pouch and nodded.
'Doesn't matter,' Cyprian thought, his eyes fixed on Sebastian's face. 'Even if you have all the money right now. We will kill both of you once you get the job done, you'll be tired after the monster hunt. Weak and easy.'
His smile returned.
'It's very ironic that you asked for this,' Cyprian continued silently. 'Want me to tag along? Alongside my men? I don't know what you're planning, witcher. But I'm the one using you here. Not the other way around.'
Sebastian looked at Lambert.
Lambert looked at Sebastian.
Lambert did not smile, he did not nod. He simply acknowledged with the barest shift of his eyes, that he understood. He had seen the same calculation in Cyprian's face.
Crime boss heir, not a charity man. No one paid for a job like this in advance without haggling, without argument, without some kind of negotiation. The fact that Cyprian had agreed so easily meant he did not intend to let them live to spend the money, they were not planning to let them leave this place alive.
Sebastian tucked the coin pouch away and turned toward the darkness.
"Let's go inside, then."
Sebastian descended first, Lambert followed. Then Cyprian, then his men, the torchlight bobbing and swaying as they climbed down into the belly of Novigrad.
The smell hit them at the bottom, it was not one smell, it was a thousand smells, layered on top of each other. The sharp ammonia of old urine, the sweet rot of decaying organic matter, the metallic tang of blood, old blood, dried and crusted and somehow still present. The chemical bite of the tanneries that dumped their waste into the sewers. And beneath it all, the thick, cloying scent of standing water that had not moved in sometime.
One of Cyprian's men, the bald giant with the missing ear pressed a sleeve over his nose and mouth.
"Fucking hell," he muttered.
Lambert's boots splashed in the water, he did not react to the smell, not visibly. But his nostrils flared.
"Trust me," Lambert said, his voice flat, "it's worse for us."
Cyprian's men looked at him with confusion, they did not understand, they could not understand. They had ordinary noses, ordinary senses, they could not smell the individual components of the stench, the specific species of rot, the age of the blood, the subtle chemical markers that told a witcher exactly what kind of monsters had been here and how long ago.
Cyprian had insisted they take several torches, despite the witchers' ability to see in the dark and even better with Cat potions, and surveyed their surroundings.
The sewers under Novigrad were not a single tunnel but a labyrinth, a sprawling network of passages that had been built and rebuilt and expanded over centuries. The walls were old stone, slick with moisture and green with algae. Arches rose overhead, their keystones carved with symbols that had long since been worn smooth by dripping water. Side passages branched off into darkness, their entrances choked with debris, crates that had floated downstream and lodged against the walls, barrels that had been rolled here and abandoned, furniture that someone had desperately tried to make disappear.
And skeletons.
There were skeletons almost everywhere.
Some were old, yellowed bones half-submerged in the murky water, their origins impossible to determine. Some were newer, the bones still white, still clinging to scraps of leather and cloth. Sebastian counted three skulls within the first twenty feet. One of them still had a boot on its foot.
"People like to make things disappear in Novigrad," Cyprian said, following Sebastian's gaze. His voice was casual, almost bored. "The sewers are convenient, out of sight, out of mind, even if they somehow survive, the monsters would get them, no one would look for them here."
Lambert said nothing.
Sebastian raised his torch higher, the flame guttered, then steadied. He could see the gas now, pale wisps that drifted across the surface of the water, catching the light, shimmering like heat mirages.
"Methane," Sebastian said quietly. "And other things... Flammable."
The bald giant took a step back. "Flammable?"
"Don't light a match," Lambert said. "Don't sneeze near a spark, don't do anything stupid."
Cyprian glared at his men. "You heard them, keep your torches high and your mouths shut."
They moved deeper into the tunnel. Cyprian's men were nervous now, their torches shook in their hands. They stayed close together, their backs to each other, their eyes darting at every shadow.
Cyprian himself walked at the center of the formation, surrounded by his men, protected by their bodies. He was not nervous, he was watchful.
"Witchers," Cyprian said, "you better keep us safe, that's what we're paying you for."
Sebastian did not look back. "Don't worry. We'll clear the place."
One of Cyprian's men spoke up a younger man, skinny, with a face that looked like it had never grown a beard. He had been quiet until now, his eyes wide, his knuckles white around the handle of his cudgel.
"I know the place," he said, his voice trembling. "I ran for my life the last time I was here. The others weren't so fortunate." He pointed ahead, where the tunnel opened into a larger chamber. "The place fitting for an arena is up ahead, big open space. Ceiling's high and used to be something important, I think, maybe."
Sebastian held up a hand. The group stopped.
He could hear them now, the splashing. The growling, the wet, sucking sounds of things moving through water that should have been still.
"Drowners," Sebastian said quietly. "And Rottfiends."
The skinny man's face went pale. "What?"
Sebastian and Lambert drew their silver swords in unison. The blades caught the torchlight, gleaming.
"Ahead," Lambert said, his voice carrying no more emotion. "Halfwits. Drowners and Rottfiends."
He pointed with his sword, the men followed his line of vision.
The creatures emerged from the shadows like nightmares. Drowners, there were six of them, their grey-green skin slick with sewage, their empty eyes fixed on the living flesh before them. some crawled on all fours, then rose on two legs, their claws scraping against the stone. Behind them, shambling and bloated, came two rottfiends, their bellies swollen, their backs split open, the faint orange glow of their volatile innards pulsing beneath skin.
Cyprian did not hesitate. He stepped back, he was not running, not yet, but putting distance between himself and the monsters.
His men raised their cudgels and swords, but their hearts were not in it. They had seen what drowners could do.
"Get them!" Cyprian shouted, pointing at the witchers. "Get them! That's what you're paid for!"
Sebastian exhaled slowly. He adjusted his grip on his silver sword.
'It would be nice to let them feast on him but not yet... I still need to know something from him.' Sebastian thought to himself.
"You heard the man," Sebastian said to Lambert.
Lambert's smile was thin and sharp. "Music to my ears."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch: In One Piece / Shadow Monarch in DC
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my pat-reon / FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to More Chapters Ahead of Release on All of My Stories!