I think the idea was to stuff the body, smooth out some of the lumps, and turn it into a bed. Much less of a risk slipping off and breaking your neck that way. [ Lambert sniggers into his mug when Strange chokes (he might have timed that on purpose, or things simply worked out that way) and lets him regain his composure before he continues. ]

But no. I didn't become a witcher to furnish some noble's bedroom, and I told them as much. Laughed in their faces and told them they could shove their gold where the sun doesn't shine. Might have said some other things, too. [ He grins wryly. ] And for that, they threw me in the dungeon.

Now, I could have gotten out easily enough -- with the right spell on the right guard at the right time, I could get the keys and walk out whistling. But I knew something fishy was going on because when I walked into that baron's hall, I felt my medallion tug. [ He hooks a finger into the chain, mining drawing it out. ] And that only means one thing: magic.

Turns out people are willing to talk to you about all kinds of things when they think they've got power over you. What really surprised me was that it wasn't just one person who came to see me that night, but two...