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Happy Accidents (Witcher 3 Ciri x Rock Troll Commission) (Excerpt - Opening Scene)
🕑 Added 2024-03-04 12:24:32 +0000 UTCCiri was dreading this meeting, even if she knew it was a long time coming. Her fingers drummed on the surface of the table she was sitting at, waiting for her contact to arrive while she sulked.
She wondered if Geralt had ever gotten himself into a pickle like the one she was currently in. He had taught her all about potions, tracking monsters, slaying monsters and everything in between. But he had not taught her about owing someone coin. If anything, Geralt was more often probably on the receiving end of a debt, as people liked to come up with excuses not to pay him after he’d already fulfilled a monster contract for them.
Ciri’s problem was that she was too damn altruistic. She didn’t have the heart to haggle and press people for coin as Geralt did. Whenever they pulled out their sob stories about not having enough coin to feed their families, Ciri didn’t have the heart to push the issue. Combine that with her potion and other upkeep costs, and she found herself in a hole and having to borrow some coin.
In this case, borrowing coin from Bernhold, the local loan shark of Mulbrydale.
Soon enough, Bernhold himself entered the squalid little tavern of Mulbrydale. A portly, pudgy and bald man with a baby face, Bernhold was frankly unpleasant to look at. He turned to her table with a big grin on his fat face, inwardly making Ciri groan. He looked quite pleased with himself, because he knew this was the day he would either get paid, or would start squeezing Ciri for something else.
Bernhold approached her table with a tall, lanky bodyguard armed with a pair of daggers at his belt. Ciri almost found the sight comical. The fact that he approached her with such swagger with his only “muscle” being a sidekick who barely possessed any muscles - she would laugh if her situation was not so frustrating.
Truthfully, if Ciri really wanted to, she could dispatch both Bernhold and his goon without breaking a sweat. She wondered if Bernhold was even aware of this fact. Despite being a loan shark, he was nowhere near as clever and shrewd as he fancied himself. He was only able to be the debtor king of his tiny fiefdom because he mostly preyed on poor Temerian peasants. Anyone more imposing would not put up with a miscreant like Bernhold.
As he sat down across from her with his sidekick standing close by, Ciri felt the tiniest tinge of an impulse to just draw her sword and be done with it. Or to teleport somewhere far away, where Bernhold could never hope to find her. But that would make her no better than a common bandit. Just because she could easily mop the floor with a pudgy loan shark did not mean that she should. She had made the choice to borrow that money despite knowing what kind of man Bernhold was, and now she had to deal with the consequences. That was the way of things, and she would abide by it whether she liked it or not.
“Well ‘ello there, my pretty little witcher,” Bernhold said through yellowed teeth. “We meet again.”
Ciri sighed, crossing her arms. “Bernhold. I wish I could say it was good to see you again but, well, you know.”
Unbothered by the insult, he smiled at her again. “Now, now, lady witcher. We ‘ad ourselves a deal, we did. I’m purely a businessman. So…do ye ‘ave my coin?”
“No…I don’t. The earldoman did not pay me what was agreed upon. But I have myself another contract, and once I complete it I’ll have enough to-
He interrupted her with a tsk sound, wagging his finger at her. “Uh uh uh, not what we agreed. A deal is a deal,” he repeated scoldingly. “So…we ‘ave ourselves a bit of a dilemma, ya?” Ciri scowled, muttering something under her breath.
Bernhold turned to look at his lanky sidekick before looking back at Ciri. “Now, this would normally be the part where I order my lad here to take one of yer fingers. But you are far too pretty of a lass to damage like that. So, seein’ as I’m a generous sort, let’s say you and me come to some sort of…arrangement.”
Given the lecherous way in which his eyes greedily scanned up and down her body, she already suspected what his price would be.
“And what exactly do you want, Bernhold?” she asked, raising her brow at him. “State it plainly."
He gave a lecherous grin, licking his chapped lips. “Plainly huh? I like that. I want the full parcel treatment. You’re a lovely piece of ass, witcheress, and I want a nice taste o’ it all. I want to slip my todger inside that pretty mouth of yours, fap out a nice loud onto your tits, and push meself inside that snatch of yours. After I get meself off, then yer debt will be square. How’s that fancy ya?”
There it was. Ciri knew this was coming. She had even been mentally preparing herself for it, even if the realities of being used by someone so repulsive were another thing entirely to prepare for. Still, she knew she didn’t have much choice. No choice that didn’t involve bloodshed, at any rate.
Ciri sighed. “Fine. But I have a few conditions: first, this will only happen one time, Bernhold. Second, I want privacy and for your goon to not watch. Agreed?”
Bernhold grinned, overjoyed that he had landed himself such a beautiful woman. “It’s a deal. But you need to let my associate hold onto your weapons. If you’re depriving me of my blades, then I’m depriving you of yer’s.”
She didn’t like that at all, but she could handle someone like Bernhold unarmed if need be. “Agreed.” He removed her sheathed sword and dagger, placing them on the table. She and Bernhold reached out and they shook on the deal.
Ciri took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Where are we…?”
“The barn. That’ll give us all the privacy we need for some fun, my lovely ashen-haired dove.”
She inwardly groaned at the scumbag’s pitiable attempt at wooing, reluctantly accepting the hand that he offered her. Ciri stood up onto her feet and turned, looking at the lanky bodyguard who busied himself with taking a drink of ale. “My blades better be there when I come back, or that’ll be the last mistake you ever make.” The thug said nothing, merely shrugging and returning to his drink.
“My man knows his place. Now come along,” Bernhold said, leading her by the hand out from the tavern like an excited child who wanted to show his parents something interesting.
