Petty Theft

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Petty Theft

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Emhyr/Geralt

Rating: general audiences

Some things we don't get to see when we play the game and how Geralt steals stuff from Emhyr's office even in the cut scene.

Geralt hated this whole thing so hard, he couldn’t even begin to point at what angered him most. It was everything.

That he’d again been manipulated by Yen?

That they’d barely made it to Vizima with the Wild Hunt at their heels?

That this little power-crazed shit-for-brains of an oh-but-I-am-the-emperor-now megalomaniac apparently had decided on new plans on a whim?

That he thought he could order him to -what? Do his bidding now?

That Yen would deliberately choose to forgive and forget everything that piece of shit had done to all of them while she kept a list of his (mostly imagined and/or justified) misdemeanours, to put him in his place - and that place was never at her side except if she could use him?

No, wait, yes: Forget the part where he didn’t know what he hated most, that was it. It had taken him a few decades but he was aware of what their relationship actually consisted of and right when he’d decided next time he’d simply not jump through her hoops - of course he jumped again.

But that pompous egotistic arse with his over-the-top theatrics whose armies were scuttling all over the North like malicious ants wasn’t far behind and right there.

Had made him strip and bathe like a concubine while being ogled and questioned by that creepy clown whose accent was as thick as his make-up and sounded just as put-on. Where did he find these people? Was there an entry-level of disconcerting you had to master before you entered the imperial services?

Speaking of, there also was this washed out little man, Emhyr’s chamberlain, who’d be translucent were he any more inconspicuous. Told him to choose one of three completely identical looking sets of clothes. Geralt decided to take his time.

He took all of the garments off the mannequins they’d been placed on and carried them to a chest of drawers. He slowly put on whatever he found next in the heap of black fabrics. The creepy mouse-man didn’t bat an eye and just stared somewhere else.

Geralt provocatively looked into the drawers. No reaction. He took a book, an apple and a rag doll and pocketed that. No reaction.

Geralt grinned and, while stuffing himself into one of the too-tight doublets, prowled through the room, reading book titles, looking into cupboards, taking whatever knick-knacks he found. Mouse-man didn’t seem to mind.

The bowing exercises didn’t exactly lighten up Geralt’s mood. Then he was led to his arch-magnificence so slowly he could feel himself age. Whatever the insufferable bastard wanted from him, he wouldn’t-

Hm. Huh. He hadn’t seen him in quite a while. He’d always just been some young-ish guy with a nose, now he looked actually more impressive than in the paintings Geralt had seen. Good thing he hadn’t planned on bowing anyway, so his staring could be interpreted as part of his reticent act.

He pocketed some small stuff off a sideboard while everyone else hurried out of the room. He was feeling petty. Whatever Emhyr wanted from him, at least he would get some remuneration for being dragged here like that.

The audience was surreal. Emhyr was even more obnoxious than expected and at the same time Geralt would have liked to lick that complacent entitlement off his face. He was annoyed with himself and filched a small, expensive looking notebook from the desk while Emhyr was looking at Ciri’s hilariously hideous portrait.

He left more disgruntled than before. Working with the aggravating git made more sense than not. He’d rather Emhyr deployed him instead of some shady headhunters. And he could use some support for a change. Support Emhyr owed them. Owed Ciri.

*****

After the witcher had left, the emperor sat back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. That had gone better than expected. How were you supposed to act around someone you’d almost forced to commit suicide last time you saw them. You couldn’t possibly apologise for such a thing. Therefore Emhyr had decided to just pretend it never happened and establish a neutral, professional relationship based on payment in exchange for services rendered. Geralt would utilise the resources he’d offered to him and find Cirilla without hurting her. While looking better than ever.

Emhyr hrmphed and was spared more of his private thoughts by Mererid hurriedly stumbling into the room, followed by a strangely triumphant looking senator, a dusty travelling cloak and a small gaggle of subordinates billowing in after him.

“Lord var Aersegrelt,” Mererid panted more than announcing him.

The emperor frowned. “Clus. I was not aware you were paying the North a visit.”

The senator huffed self-importantly. “I thought I’d see for myself how you are spending Nilfgaard’s gold.”

The emperor’s face was looking bored and unimpressed. “Feel free to look around. If you want to inspect the troops, take care you won’t be eaten by some monster. They are quite endemic here and part of Temeria’s quaint charme.”

Var Aersegrelt sneered. “Actually I’ve come to inspect your office. We know all about your private deal with Redania, how you are syphoning away money into your private accounts - and we know where to find the evidence!”

The emperor kept staring at the senator’s almost frothing mouth. Var Aersegrelt was part of a faction that had ceaselessly been undermining his power for years. He’d always known they were trying to get him off the throne and his spies had discovered and disrupted previous schemes.

Now this was a serious accusation that would undoubtedly be successful - hadn’t it been utterly ridiculous with no bearings on anything remotely associated with reality.

“And what evidence might that be.” The emperor still managed to appear quite bored but was anything but relaxed. Var Aersegrelt would not dare to storm in here with baseless accusations and no proof. They would have planted evidence.

The senator grinned triumphantly. “Search the office for the notebook!” he ordered his subordinates who started scuttling about. Emhyr and he kept staring at each other, each aware the other knew exactly what was going down and it was only a matter of time until the last piece of var Aersegrelt’s plan would seal Emhyr’s fate.

They kept staring. It took a while.

It took more than a while. After some time one of the clerks cleared their throat. “We’ve gone through all the books and documents present but couldn’t find anything. Maybe in the private-”

Var Aersegrelt’s head was very red. “No!” He fought for composure. “No, on the desk, did you check the desk? It’s suppos- “ He faltered.

“Was it now,” Emhyr smiled thinly. “I think there must have been some misunderstanding, don’t you think.”

Var Aersegrelt hissed.

“I am sure we can clear this up if you tell us where that information came from. Someone must have set you up.” The emperor nodded to his guards. “Until this has been solved we should probably keep you somewhere safe.”

Var Aersegrelt whimpered when the guards led him to a windowless room that was definitely not a cell.

“I think I am calling it a day,” the emperor told Mererid. “I have no clue what just happened, in case you were contemplating asking me that.”

Mererid huffed. “Maybe they forgot to plant the evidence, your Majesty,” he suggested. “Also the witcher has been taking souvenirs from every room he’s passed through.”

Only Mererid knew that the White Flame was capable of laughing hysterically and he would never tell anyone.