Chapter 22: THE NEUTRAL INN
She was already there.
The Crossroads Inn sat at the junction of two trade routes — Brokk's northern path and a secondary road that wound toward the coast. Neutral ground, two days' ride from anywhere that mattered, the kind of place where transactions happened without witnesses who cared to remember.
Yennefer of Vengerberg occupied the corner table with the posture of someone who had been waiting long enough to read the room three times. Violet eyes tracked me from the doorway, assessing threat level and potential value in the same glance.
I'd seen her in the games, of course. The rendering hadn't captured the specific quality of her presence — the way the air around her seemed to hold its breath, the way everyone else in the room had unconsciously positioned themselves to maintain distance.
A hundred years of being the most dangerous person in most rooms had left its mark.
"Lord Roderick." Her voice carried exactly far enough to reach me and no further. "You're punctual."
"I had motivation."
I crossed the common room without rushing. The Codex was in my satchel, wrapped in oiled cloth, its weight familiar after a week of carrying it everywhere I went.
The other occupant of her table was an older man with the weathered look of someone who had spent decades on the road — Aldric of Kerack, according to Brokk's intelligence. Retired hedge mage, occasional contract witness, reputation for neutrality that had survived forty years in a profession where neutrality was rare.
"You've investigated me," I said, taking the chair across from her.
"You expected otherwise?"
"I expected thoroughness."
Something flickered in her expression — not quite surprise, not quite approval. "The fief records show a disgraced minor noble exiled to the worst territory in Velen. The tax history shows a property that has never generated revenue and isn't expected to. The trade network shows a settlement with a working forge, a permanent stone structure, and a Dwarf family with governance participation." She tilted her head slightly. "The gap between those two pictures is interesting."
"The gap is what I've built in six months."
"With what resources?"
"The ones I found when I arrived. And the ones I developed after."
Her eyes held mine for a long moment. Then she extended her hand, palm up.
I placed the Codex on the table between us.
She didn't reach for it immediately. Instead, she studied the binding — the leather that had aged without deteriorating, the clasp that showed no sign of forced entry. When she finally opened it, her hands moved with the reverence of someone handling something they'd stopped believing they would ever touch.
Forty-five minutes passed.
I ordered bread and ale. The innkeeper brought it without comment. Aldric nursed his drink in comfortable silence, the patience of a professional witness who understood that important transactions required time.
Yennefer turned pages with methodical precision, her expression shifting through recognition, evaluation, and something I couldn't quite name. When she finally looked up, her first words weren't about the Codex.
"Why does a disgraced noble in a swamp have this?"
"Because I found a way to acquire it."
"At what cost?"
The question carried weight. A century of being manipulated by people who wanted something from her had taught her to look for the hidden price, the trap that wouldn't spring until she was committed.
"Everything I had," I said. "Six months of work. Every resource I could generate. Every milestone I could achieve."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you honestly." I met her eyes directly. "The acquisition method isn't something I can explain. What I can tell you is that obtaining this document was the primary goal of everything I've done since arriving at that fief, and now that I have it, I'm offering it to you in exchange for something I need."
She studied my face the way she'd studied the Codex — looking for signs of deception, of manipulation, of the familiar patterns she'd learned to recognize over a hundred years of being the prize everyone wanted to claim.
"The contract terms," she said finally.
I pulled out the parchment I'd prepared. "The Codex and practical infrastructure for its application, in exchange for three years' service as Court Mage in residence. Full autonomy protections — you answer to no one but yourself on matters outside the contract scope. No obligation to fight, teach, or perform beyond magical consultation unless you choose to. Room, board, and workspace provided. Termination at your discretion if any provision is breached."
She read it twice.
Her pen appeared from somewhere — a writing implement that probably cost more than the inn's entire inventory — and she added two lines in the margin.
"Full personal autonomy in all non-contracted matters. Right to terminate early if any provision is breached by either party."
I read her additions. Then I nodded. "Acceptable."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You didn't hesitate."
"The amendments are reasonable. If I were in your position, I would want the same protections."
"You have no idea what my position has been."
"I know enough to understand why you'd want those clauses."
She was quiet for a moment, processing. The non-hesitation had been more interesting to her than the contract itself — I could see it in the subtle shift of her posture, the way her assessment recalibrated.
"Aldric," she said, without looking away from me.
The hedge mage straightened. "Witnessed and ready."
She read the contract a third time. Then she signed.
The blood seal activated when both our signatures touched the parchment — a brief flash of warmth, a tingling sensation in my fingertips, and then nothing. The contract was bound.
Aldric added his witness mark with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this a hundred times before. He caught my eye as Yennefer stepped outside to inspect her horse.
"I've seen a hundred mage contracts," he said quietly. "This is the first one where neither party was trying to win."
"Is that good?"
"It's unusual." He tucked his writing implements away. "In my experience, unusual is better than the alternative."
The ride back to Velen took two days.
Yennefer didn't accompany me — she said she would arrive within the week, and she said it the way someone who had been managed for decades said the word that meant she was choosing. Not because I'd pressured her. Not because the contract required it. Because she had decided to come on her own terms.
I added her two amendments to my private notes without editorializing.
They were good amendments. Protective without being obstructive. The kind of clauses that a person wrote when they expected to be trapped and wanted explicit language preventing it.
The fact that I had no intention of trapping her didn't change the wisdom of including them.
The contract was signed. The Codex was transferred. The hardest negotiation of my existence was complete.
Which meant the hard part was just beginning.
To supporting Me in Pateron.
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes.
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!