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“It has been a century since then, and I do not know the reason for this rule, but when I was a child, my mother told me that this rule was made to appreciate the extraordinary contributions Jennifer made to the family.”

Roy was silent for a while. There was something weird about the rule, but he could not put a finger on it. He poked the back of his head and looked at Ignatius. “Do the other family members have this mark behind their heads? The branch families, I mean.”

“I think you know the answer to that,” the baron answered promptly. “No, they do not. There were a few of them left in the fortress when I was a child. I was curious, so I went to check on them, but none of them have this mark, and I’m sure of it. Mary told me only the main family has this mark.” He looked up at the ceiling with a proud expression on his face. “It’s a blessing. A lucky mark.”

A lucky mark? The witchers did not expect that answer. They knew the mark was evil, but Ignatius’ parents thought it was a blessing. That was ironic.

“You two don’t look so good.” The baron got nervous. “Is something wrong with the mark? I did hear you talking about that.”

“I’m sorry, baron, but Letho and I disagree with you. This mark is not lucky in the slightest.”

Roy told him about what they knew, and the baron started to shiver. He said with a trembling voice, “If what you say is true, then this mark only appeared because my ancestor was cursed by a powerful mage? And that curse can be passed down to my ancestor’s descendants? Their goal is to wipe out my bloodline?”

“What else?” Roy said. “How can you explain the fact that only the main bloodline ends up with so many deaths? How can you explain the absence of this mark on the branch families’ members? How can you explain their great number of members?”

Ignatius spaced out for a while. He could not imagine that the truth of the mark was so sinister. It was the complete opposite of what his parents told him since he was a child. The mark I’m so proud of is cursed? “That’s impossible. Why did Mary lie to me?” Ignatius plopped down on the sofa, looking dejected.

“Haven’t you suspected anything?” Roy’s gaze pierced through him. “Your family history clearly states that none of your bloodline’s members had a good death. Haven’t you suspected that mark? It’s a flimsy explanation. You call it a lucky mark, but has it brought you any luck? Bad luck, yes. Good luck? I don’t think so.”

Ignatius thought about that carefully, and he realized that he had never been lucky. On the contrary, his family members died horribly, and he had let himself loose since then. He drank too much and destroyed his own health. “Witchers.” Ignatius shook his head bitterly. “I might be the baron of the orchard. I might be a noble, but I am still mortal. I have never encountered mages or witchcraft before. You can’t expect me to link my misfortune to the supernatural.”

“Just because you didn’t understand didn’t mean everyone else didn’t. Baron, there might be a reason why the branch families left. They could have noticed something.”

“Is that so? Why didn’t they warn me then?”

“How should I know? Ask your parents.”

But they’re dead. A momentary silence fell on the room. “Is this mark really a… a curse?” Ignatius pleaded, “How should I break it then? Can you save me?”

Letho shook his head regrettably. “I have never seen such a powerful curse before. The only way to break it is to locate the one who cast it.”

“Witcher…” Ignatius suddenly sounded solemn. “It has been a century since the days of my ancestor. Is the curse giver even alive?”

“Do not assume. A mage’s lifespan is far longer than a mere mortal’s. There are many of them who are more than a hundred years old.” Letho tapped his finger on the table. “Baron, that curse giver might be keeping an eye on you somewhere.”

“I did what you asked of me. I gave you the blueprint and apologized to Kolgrim. Please fulfill your end of the bargain and find the curse giver.”

“We will help you if you will work with us.” Roy paused for a moment. “Take us to the bedchambers on the upper floors. Your family used to live there, didn’t they?”

The baron hesitated for a moment, and he nodded. “Do please be gentle. Try not to destroy my family’s belongings.”

***

All of the servants in Amavet Fortress had gone to sleep, and the baron had sent away the servant who took care of him. The soldiers who patrolled the fortress were the only ones still awake.

Ignatius liked the silence. He took an oil lamp and led the witchers out of his bedchamber. The corridor was dimly lit. Most places were shrouded in darkness, save for small patches of ground outside the bedchambers. They were illuminated by oil lamps.

The light from the lamp projected their shadows onto the wall. They covered almost the whole wall, flickering like dark phantoms. The chirping of cicadas flowed inside, and quiet sounds of footsteps filled the hallway. A cold breeze whispered along the corridor, sounding like the silent cries of a woman at night.

Ignatius stopped outside a room. “This was Mary’s room.”

The witchers nodded. So the room closest to the baron belonged to his mother.

The door yawned open, and Ignatius went in, looking melancholic. “Nobody has stayed in this room ever since Mary died, but the servants would clean it up every week. Do please be careful and don’t ruin anything, witchers.”

The room was surprisingly simple and clean. There were no redundant accessories, and a soft bed was facing the wall where Mary’s portrait hung from. She looked like she was in her thirties in the portrait. A woman’s prime age. Her thick brown hair was tied up in a bun, and she had a slightly long face. Her chin was pointed, and her brows were thin and long. Her eyes were glistening black, and a flower earring the size of a palm hung from her right ear. Her lips were covered in rose-red lipstick, and she had a beauty mark under her right eye. She had a calm look on her face, and she held her head tall and proud.

More importantly, she was not in an attire befitting of a noble lady. Instead, she looked open and passionate. She was wearing a laced, sleeveless shirt with yellow flowers on it. It fitted her perfectly, and she was also wearing a ruffled skirt. Vibrant colors jumped across the layers, and patterns of mysterious plants were printed on them. She looked like a mysterious blaze of flames which nobody could turn their eyes away from.

She looks like a gypsy,

Roy thought, but then he shook his head. “There are no gypsies in this world, but Mary really looks like one.”

“Baron, forgive me for being honest, but your mother’s beauty does leave an impression.”

“Of course.” Ignatius caressed the edges of the portrait, and love appeared in his eyes for a moment. “This is the bloodline of my family. She inherited that beauty from Grandmother. Any woman in my family is beautiful enough to take part in any beauty contest.”

Ignatius kept admiring the portrait, while the witchers started searching the room. The search was done half an hour later. They went through the bookshelf, closet, dressing table, bed, under the bed, the floor, the walls, and even the spot behind Mary’s portrait, but there were no hidden compartments.

“I knew it.” Ignatius heaved a sigh of relief, and he mumbled, “Mary knows nothing about this.”

“Be quiet and don’t talk.” Letho suddenly closed his eyes and listened in silence.

“Did you find something?”

“The sound of wind.” Letho raised a finger and pointed it upward. “There’s empty space above the ceiling.”

“Yes. There is an attic there,” Ignatius answered honestly. “Every room has it.”

The witcher nodded. “Can we run through them?”

“Of course.”

***

Roy came back with a ladder from the storeroom and climbed up to the ceiling. It was ten feet from the ground, and Roy pushed a trapdoor open before coming into a small, dark room. There was a wooden double bed in the corner, and a window blind was installed on the wall. A gust of cold wind came from outside through the window. There was a red blanket on the bed, and it was covered in dust.

“There’s a bed here. Did Mary sleep here sometimes?” He huddled closer to the bed, and the floorboards creaked under his weight, as if it would break at any given moment. “Is this some sort of hobby exclusive to nobles?”

Roy scanned through the attic and noticed a pile of suspicious dust on the floor. It was no mere dust. Roy noticed the smell of human ash coming from it, and it glowed green. I know what this is. Roy’s heart skipped a beat. “What is a bed doing in Mary’s attic? And why does this place have specter dust?”

Roy came back down a while later and told them of his findings.

“This isn’t even a tenth of the usual amount. Most of it must have been blown by the wind, but this is telling enough.” Letho looked at Ignatius. “A wraith made its appearance in Mary’s room. How did it manage to infiltrate this place without anyone knowing?”

“The window in the attic. The wraith must have used that to infiltrate the fortress,” Roy guessed. “But here’s another guess. This specter dust could have come from the banshee who escaped the tomb. She might have returned to her old bedchamber, and someone vanquished her.”

The witchers thought that was a plausible idea. Mary had some obsessions left after she was turned into a banshee, and she came back to her bedchamber, guided by her instincts. However, that posed another problem.

“Nobody in this fortress is capable enough to vanquish a banshee.” Roy was sure about that. He cast Observe on everyone. “Unless the banshee killed herself.”

Ignatius was seized by great fear, and beads of sweat drenched his head. He could not believe that a monster was living so close to his bedchamber.

“Do not worry, baron,” Letho assured him. “We do not know who did it, but the banshee is vanquished. It cannot hurt you.”

“No. Can you check my bedchamber as well, witchers?”

***

“Congratulations, Baron Ignatius. Your room is free of wraith activity.”

“Even the attic?”

“Yes, even the attic. We guarantee.”

Ignatius heaved a sigh of relief, but he needed to get to the bottom of this matter if he wished to have peace of mind. “Come with me, witchers. Let’s get John and Florian’s bedchambers checked.”

***

“There is nothing wrong with your father and son’s bedchambers.”

Ignatius kept moving like a horse who would never run out of stamina. He led the witchers to the bedchambers of his grandparents and his great-grandparents. They were the second and third generations of the family.

The roosters were crowing when the witchers were finally done with the bedchambers. It was already time for the servants to wake.

“It has been a long night. I shall send some servants to make breakfast immediately.” Ignatius yawned, his dark circles getting darker. They had two more bedchambers left, but Ignatius was too weak to go on.

Roy waved him down. “Leave us. Get some rest. We’ll ask Grant if we need anything.”

Witchers could do without one night of sleep. They were still energized and excited. The witchers had searched seven bedchambers so far, and all of them belonged to the main family. The bedchambers they searched belonged to Ignatius’ great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, and son. And of course, there was also his own room.

“The dust appeared in three places,” Roy analyzed. “Mary’s attic, the baron’s grandmother’s attic, and his great-grandmother’s attic.”

All of the dust was found in the women’s bedchambers, but none were found in the men’s.

“Coincidence? I think not.”

The witchers noticed the women’s portraits as well. They looked different, but the air they radiated was similar. They had a polite smile on their lips, and their eyes were black and mysterious. This overlap in personality must have been because of how the family was ruled. Women took the role of leaders, and men married into their family. That rule was passed down through generations, but eventually, Ignatius broke it, for there were no other heirs. He was the only one, after all.

Roy noticed a pattern here, but he was not sure if that was right. “I think we’ll find something important once we finish searching Leon and Jennifer’s rooms.”

***

***