Broken Flowers

Priscilla told Geralt about the ruckus I had supposedly raised at Whoreson Junior's headquarters, and that I had been planning to rob treasure from Sigi Reuven, a man better known to Geralt as Sigismund Dijkstra, former head of Redanian intelligence. Geralt now realized I was up the proverbial creek in a leaky boat without a paddle, surrounded by man-eating crocodiles - and he would have to swim to my rescue.

Geralt had learned from the dreamer Corinne Tilly that Ciri contacted me while in Novigrad. He thus made his way to the Rosemary and Thyme, a charming establishment which I had inherited from an admirer of my poetry, for he, quite rationally, expected to find me there. His search for Ciri seemed closer to a happy conclusion than ever before.

Alas, fate had raised his hopes only to dash them cruelly back to the ground. Geralt did not find me at my proprietorship. His despair was partially lifted when he came across our old friend, Zoltan Chivay - but the dwarf had just returned from a long journey and knew nothing of my fate or that of Ciri. Concern wrinkling his brow, Zoltan helped Geralt search every corner of the establishment for clues about where I might be. Other than a few triflings, all they found was a planner containing notes about the women I had met with in the days prior to my disappearance. They divided the names between them and ventured into the city to find the women and ask what they knew.

Geralt conversed with the ladies whose company I had recently graced. Though each had fond memories of these encounters, none knew where I might be now. Geralt gleaned from their stories that there was one person who might know more: a famous and talented trobairitz named Priscilla.

It so happened this ravishing starlet was still in town and performing every night at the Kingfisher Inn. Like it or not, the witcher was in for an evening of fine culture, at the end of which he hoped to take the artist aside for a serious chat.