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The city was awful. Jaskier didn’t know what to do. He was in Oxenfurt but he wasn’t alone like he was during most winters. Somehow, there was a contract within the city. Jaskier received the letter personally – he was in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere with Geralt as he fought against some new species of Siren – and was asked to lead the great almighty White Wolf to Oxenfurt for a 200 crown contract.
Geralt seemed fine with it. Jaskier couldn’t believe the witcher. Geralt was usually so annoyed with cities, especially noisy ones. Oxenfurt was about as noisy as a city could get. Music was played 24/7 in some way or another, and taverns didn’t close until mid-morning. By then, farmers and merchants were setting up. It was a city that never slept.
“Pray tell, dear Witcher of mine, why you’re so excited?” he demanded.
Geralt’s lip twitched. It was a sign of happiness. “Nothing,” he lied.
Jaskier huffed. “You’re clearly amused by something. You only get this way when I’m about to be made fun of, particularly by Yennefer. I need to know what’s up, Geralt. I am not going to my alumni school just for you to mock me.”
“I thought you’d be excited about this.”
“I am! I just… you’ll get annoyed very quickly. I don’t want you to take this contract if you’re going to suffer the whole time. Oxenfurt can be a lot, so…”
“I’ll be fine, Jaskier.”
“Why don’t I believe that? Hmm? It’s as if you’ve been averse to cities the entire time I’ve known you.”
“Jaskier,” he growled.
“Huh. Odd. My memory must be blanking–”
They were greeted with Valdo Marx. Jaskier cut himself off, not wanting to show his cards to the other bard. Valdo simply leveled a stare with Jaskier. Geralt could smell the fear wafting off of the new man, but that didn’t surprise him. Jaskier had talked enough to his friends that Geralt was but a simple horse girl and soft-hearted giant, but not even they could trust the bard’s words. Witchers were cool from afar, but not greeted with kindness at every corner.
Valdo had a look of displeasure and concern across his face. He announced, “Jaskier, witcher, Oxenfurt seems to have a monster living in it. Guards have not been able to track down the beast, or they’ve been killed before they can do anything about it. We have 10 victims so far.”
Without any further prompting, Geralt asked, “How were they killed?”
“All found pale and with little blood left in their veins,” said Valdo. “One of the professors did research into it. He believes it’s a vampire of sorts, but doesn’t know which kind.”
“There’s quite a few to pick from,” commented Jaskier.
“Yes. That seems to be true.”
Geralt said, “Any other strange occurrences happening?”
“No,” answered Valdo. “There’s a curfew now, but curfews aren’t anything new. It’s just… students are worried, as are benefactors. Oxenfurt is known for cultivation and safety. With a monster so close to it–”
“You’re losing funding.”
“Correct.”
“It only attacks at night, I assume.”
“Correct again,” confirmed Valdo. He rolled his lips together. “The morgue is willing to show you a body if need be.”
“Lead the way,” chimed in Jaskier, putting on his innocent-looking face.
Valdo did. They went through the streets, Roach neighing at the passersby. Geralt heard the whispers of “Professor Pankratz” and “Ooo, does he have a new song to premiere?” as they traveled to the morgue. The witcher honed in his senses, instead focusing on Jaskier as a way to get through the city’s population.
Valdo opened a rickety place. The trio walked in to discover a horrid, putrid smell. Jaskier covered his nose at the sight of bodies laid across large cloths. A man looked up from one of the victims. He had metal blades in his hand.
“Dean,” greeted Valdo, his voice resigned, “this is the witcher.”
Dean, the person running the morgue, gave a simple nod. He gestured to the victim in front of them. “No blood, practically. The fang area, as I believe the teeth on vampires are called, is quite large.”
Geralt stepped closer to see that Dean was right. The bite was larger. He whispered to Jaskier, “It’s a lesser vampire.” He felt Jaskier’s tension melt right away. The witcher sniffed, trying to pick up a scent, but only received iron, dirt, and bodily fluid.
“Were the victims attacked in the same area of Oxenfurt?” questioned Geralt.
Dean gave a slight shrug. The room turned to Valdo. He answered, “I don’t know. I think they’ve been all over. Bridges, walkways, abandoned buildings, filled buildings… it’s everywhere.”
“Hmm.”
“What the fuck–”
Jaskier cut Valdo off. He soothed, “Why don’t you show us where the most recent victim was found, hmm?”
The other bard, with his feathers thoroughly ruffled, calmed. Valdo begrudgingly said, “Sure.”
They found themselves right by the school after dropping Roach off at a stable. Jaskier had to bite back the bile that had risen in his throat. Students passed through there every day– students that were young and full of promise. He was 14 when he went to Oxenfurt. He finished his 4 years just in time before finding Geralt in Posada. He remembered using the building as a quick route to get from class to class.
Valdo said, “This is about all I know. You can ask a few of the professors or students, but most listened to the curfew. Come to me when you’ve slain the beast. 200 crowns are surely worth getting rid of whatever is killing off those residing in Oxenfurt.”
“We can take it from here,” announced Jaskier. Valdo instantly smelled chipper at the thought. “However, I do ask, dear friend, for you to take our belongings to my room.”
“It’s not your room anymore. It’s a quest room for professors–”
“They don’t clear it out, now do they?”
Valdo sighed, taking in Jaskier’s lute, satchel, and the Witcher’s single bag. With that, he fluttered away.
Jaskier immediately turned giddy, happy from getting out of Valdo’s presence.
“Geralt, what do you say we investigate?” said the Witcher’s Bard.
Geralt was too busy inspecting the area to answer. He noticed that the old architecture of Oxenfurt relied on stone. It was the new houses and buildings that were wood. He walked around to find the perfect lip for a creature to sit on, brooding and unmoving until their next victim came along.
Jaskier followed Geralt’s eyesight, then rang in with, “Gargoyle! Is it a Gargoyle, Geralt? We’ve never come across any, but I’ve heard the tales. They like to ‘gloom and doom’ it, don’t they?”
“It’s a vampire,” reminded Geralt, his voice almost amused by Jaskier’s conclusion.
“Okay.” Jaskier was stumped. He hadn’t heard of a vampire that was like a Gargoyle before. He followed Geralt around the building, the witcher set on checking out the sights. “Is it a particularly large vampire, darling?”
“Hmm.”
“You know, I was just thinking about that time when we last kissed and it was very romantic. Do you remember that? How long ago was it, do you think? A year? A decade, maybe?”
Geralt huffed. “This morning.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound right.” Jaskier turned to where Roach would usually be. He frowned when he remembered that Roach was in the stables.
Geralt chose that moment to pull Jaskier back. Geralt looked above them with inspecting eyes as Jaskier leaned against the wall with unbridled joy. The witcher was so busy looking for clues that he didn’t notice that Jaskier was waiting for something. Jaskier eventually cottoned on as he waited against the wall.
Geralt was dragged out of his focus by Jaskier saying, “So you didn’t do that just to kiss me?” The bard plied himself from the stone wall to give the witcher a pitiful look.
The witcher cast his golden gaze to the bard. He huffed at Jaskier. “We’re working,” he reminded.
“I know that, dearest, but I felt a carnal desire just now. We’re at my alumni school, you’re working a contract, Valdo fucking Marx left us alone… quite romantic, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re a poet. No one else would find hunting down a Garkain romantic.”
Jaskier exclaimed, “A Garkain! What is that? It’s a Gargoyle-Vampire mix? If so, are we hunting down a mage as well as the monster they created? We haven’t hunted a mage down in years, Geralt– not since that Golem.”
“Garkain’s aren’t created by mages,” said Geralt.
The witcher walked out from where they were hidden. Jaskier followed behind him dutifully. They went through the city, mainly focusing on structures where a creature could lie in wait – lurking above an unwilling victim. Each one they stopped at, Geralt could smell the blood that hadn’t been properly washed away.
“Definitely a Garkain,” he murmured.
“Ooo, witcher senses are picking up something gnarly,” whispered Jaskier. He waved his arms about, not caring that the people of Oxenfurt gave him weird looks. “Are we coming back tonight during curfew?”
Geralt started to steer himself to where Jaskier’s room was located. The bard followed along with a bounce in his step. They entered Jaskier’s room to find that Valdo had put Jaskier’s lute and satchel inside, as well as Geralt’s bag and Roach’s saddle. Jaskier thought the other bard had picked up some manners– that maybe Valdo stole them from an innocent, kind soul.
It was dark outside by the time Jaskier finally brought it up.
“A vampire will want to drink your blood.”
Geralt gave a strange look to his companion. “Yes. They crave it.” He was rooting through his potion sack, careful not to be too rough with any of them.
“So you’re taking Black Blood.”
“Yes,” he gritted out. He took out the potion, a sickly black-red concoction that would make his body feel like it was on fire for the next 8 hours.
“I saw the bite marks on the other victims in the morgue. They were large– it looked like they had their flesh scooped out, the holes were so wide. Can’t you use that special oil you bought in Kaedwen last month? You know, the one that you coat your sword with.”
“Vampire Oil can help, but it won’t kill. Black Blood is the easiest way to get rid of the Garkain.”
Jaskier knew that tone in Geralt’s voice. It was his I’m-mad-too-but-I-can’t-change-it voice. So, Jaskier stood up and announced, “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not. Garkains are too dangerous. They’d go after you instead of me, if that Bruxa last year was any proof of that.”
Jaskier’s voice turned tender and hurt as he said, “You promised to not bring that up.”
Geralt tilted his head down. He said a simple, “sorry,” before uncorking the Black Blood. Jaskier wasn’t able to stop his witcher in time. The dark red potion emptied into Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier stared at the empty potion bottle in sadness. He saw as Geralt bit down the pain of his blood slowly turning toxic– so toxic that not even creatures would survive if they drank his blood.
With curfew in place, Geralt left to hunt a Garkain. Jaskier, not ever being good at listening to the witcher, followed. They walked around in the darkened streets of Oxenfurt. Jaskier couldn’t see well but trusted Geralt to not lead him to his inevitable demise.
The fight went quickly. The Garkain had little victims to choose from with the curfew and whispers of a witcher about, so the Garkain came to them. One moment, Jaskier was passing into an alley, and the next he was shoved forward by Geralt as the vampire leaped down. Geralt let himself get bitten, but continued to fight until the Garkain died from consuming Black Blood.
Once the vampire was dead, Geralt chopped off its head. He prepared to bring the head back to Valdo, but Jaskier quickly stopped him.
“I need to show proof or else I won’t get paid.”
Jaskier looked like he was begging Geralt to just leave the head alone. “Please, Geralt, all you will do is make Valdo scream. He doesn’t like gross things. He detests them. Let’s just go back to my room and relax. You can have a bath–”
“A bath?”
“Yes. A very, very nice hot bath. I have enough oils, soaps, and salts here that you can stay in the bath as long as you want. With Igni the water won’t ever turn cold.”
“Hmm.”
“Plus, uh, you’re leaving a blood trail. I would like to wash out your wounds as fast as possible, dearest. It’s, uh, it must hurt. It hurts me to look at it, at least.”
Geralt looked down to the bite mark on his arm from the Garkain. Jaskier was correct. It was gnarly, with two large gashes where flesh used to be. He looked up to Jaskier’s face to see he was worried, so he took a deep breath and let Jaskier lead him to his room. It was just in time for snow to start falling from above.
Geralt hoped they'd have a good winter together at Oxenfurt.