Chapter Text
The house was not quite what Geralt had expected. He had heard that it had been abandoned for a long time but had never seen it. In fact, he had never penetrated so deep into this part of the forest, even though he lived in Vizima for a few years now.
Some of the locals had told him someone had settled out there. It was of no further interest to him unless that person owned any animals. Geralt might not have been the most sociable guy – which made him hardly different from many other residents of the small town – but he had gradually gained their respect, and that was enough for him. After all, he was the only veterinarian within a radius of 50 miles. Further-more, he had specialized in horses, and the area was quite known for horse breeding.
This was also why he now drove along the narrow forest path that had turned off the road a few minutes earlier. Geralt had been quite surprised when he had received a call asking him to examine the horse of a certain Mr var Emreis. It was not only that he had been told this through the man's secretary – this was a small town, people called each other by the first name, nobody was very formal about anything. Still, a cautious, sometimes suspicious trait prevailed among the people. So the stranger was talk of the town. Even if he was not interested in rumors, Geralt found it quite interesting to finally meet the mysterious man, whom the people talked about a lot but nobody had apparently seen yet.
For Geralt's taste, he had chosen a strange place as his new home. A stately estate loomed in front of him at the end of the path – still in some distance, behind a high wall, but clearly visible through a barred gate. It was huge, and it emanated a kind of wealth that made Geralt wonder why only a muddy, narrow path led there. He had not even suspected that there was such a mansion out here; two-storied, in an elegant, if somewhat old-fashioned architectural style, probably from the late 19th century. The new resident had to be quite wealthy. Most of the area's inhabitants were relatively simple country people whose "wealth" consisted of livestock – which promised a mostly secure if modest, income out here.
But Mr var Emreis had to have another source of income. Or maybe he had inherited the house. Preoccupied with these thoughts, Geralt finally stopped his off-road vehicle in front of the gate. He was about to get out when something stirred behind the entrance. A big, chunky guy that seemed to burst out of his suit any minute appeared behind the gate, opening it a crack. Then he stepped up to Geralt's car, knocking rudely on the window. Geralt was somewhat irritated yet let the window down. Before he could say anything, the man growled, "The vet?"
Geralt was not impressed by the rugged nature of the guy, obviously a security guard. Without a word, he pointed to his windshield, where his badge was clearly visible; the "V" with Aesculapius's staff. The guard just snorted, then said, "Keep going straight. Park in front of the house. Someone will pick you up there."
Geralt preferred not to answer; he wordlessly started the car again and waited until the security guard had opened the gate wide. The path behind it was paved, yet it had seen better days. This also applied to the house, as he could now see. It was still in relatively good condition, as far as he could tell, but somewhat neglected – which was no wonder, given that it had been vacant for so long. But whoever the new resident was, he obviously didn't need to think about how to make ends meet.
Geralt parked in front of the house and left the car. A double staircase with a curved banister led to a stately entrance door. Around the house, there were tall pine trees, behind which an extensive lawn could be spotted. The grounds seemed almost endless, and from here, Geralt could not see the wall that had enclosed the front gate. It was easy to imagine that there must be plenty of room for stables somewhere behind the estate. In the end, the new resident with the foreign-sounding name might turn out to be a reliable source of income.
At that moment, the front door opened, and a small, bespectacled man – dressed in a dark suit, like the security guy – stepped out.
"Dr. Wolf?" he asked as he slowly walked down the stairs and approached Geralt.
"The same," Geralt replied friendly and stretched out his hand. "Mr var Emreis?"
The other man glanced almost indignantly at the outstretched hand and ignored it deliberately.
"Oh, no, no," he said then. "I am the secretary of Mr. var Emreis. We spoke on the phone."
Geralt, somewhat irritated, pulled back his hand and asked, "Well, where is the horse in question?"
The secretary nodded, "Please follow me."
He led Geralt around the house, which stretched surprisingly far back. How many rooms does this thing have? Geralt asked himself, astonished. These were probably more rooms than even an extended family needed – and so far, there was no sign of a family here. Not even a car had been parked in front of the house. Well, there was probably a garage he hadn't seen. Still, everything was extremely quiet. The whole place seemed almost lifeless. If it weren't for the security guard at the gate and this secretary here, walking with quick steps along a halfway maintained gravel path, Geralt would have sworn that nobody lived here.
Behind the house, the path gradually became more comprehensive, and a large garden stretched out there. However, it consisted almost entirely of trees and a somewhat puny lawn, looking fresh but a little too trimmed. It was visible that this once might have been a beautiful place, marked by marble statues, elegant birdbaths, now overgrown rose bushes, and once probably lush flower beds. With a bit of work, all this could be restored.
They bent around a turn, and now a paved square rose directly in front of them, with spacious-looking stables at its center. Geralt found that the stables were in excellent condition, unlike some other things he had seen here before. They were much younger than the house itself, perhaps built by the last occupant. There were several big boxes inside the building, yet it was the home to only one horse. That was an unusually beautiful white horse – a real one, not a Cremello, as it was sometimes seen in the area, commonly mistakenly as a white horse by the townsfolk.
"A fine animal," said Geralt, although it seemed a bit superfluous to him to state the obvious.
The secretary had been silent the whole time, and Geralt found the entire matter somehow unusual.
"Certainly," the man replied. "As I told you on the phone, it doesn't really want to feed since Mr var Emreis moved here. You see, it is his only horse at the moment, and understandably he is quite attached to it. We will pay the agreed price for the examination, and any further treatment costs will not be a problem."
The secretary expressed this with such a blasé manner that Geralt started to get annoyed.
"Where is Mr var Emreis?" he asked.
The secretary blinked, obviously stunned.
"Pardon?"
"I asked where he is."
Geralt had not intended the threatening undertone in his voice, but his words seemed to reach the other person in the same way. Geralt was clearly taller than he was, of wiry muscularity and with a somewhat unusual appearance – the kind of man who didn't have to appear brawny to make it clear that he was to be reckoned with.
"In what sense is this relevant to your work?" asked the secretary cautiously.
Geralt noisily expelled air, a sign of increasing impatience.
"That's his horse," he then explained slowly, as if talking to someone who couldn't really follow him. "It may be that the move is partly responsible for its condition. But I do not make a diagnosis without taking all circumstances into account. And I do not examine a horse without the presence of its owner."
"Why?" the secretary dared to ask. "It's an animal, it's well treated, why..."
Geralt crossed his arms and interrupted the man coolly, "Who is the veterinarian here, you or me? You know very well that you won't find another one in the further vicinity. And you probably know my reputation. Your employer seems to care enough about his animal that he was smart enough to turn to an expert. And this expert wants to talk to him personally because you obviously don't know anything about horses."
Something about Geralt's expression seemed to worry the secretary. Or maybe it convinced him; it was hard to tell. Anyway, he swallowed visibly and then replied coolly, "I'll see what I can do. But perhaps you would be so kind as to take a look at the horse while I..."
"That can be arranged," Geralt returned stiffly.
The secretary nodded. Leaving, he turned around, and his movement had something offended about it.