It was another bustling day in Gildorf. Sunlight shone upon the people going down the streets, purchasing the merchandise sold by peddlers and merchants who set up stalls along the street.

A pockmarked witcher with a beard stared at the bulletin board standing under a tree, his ponytail swaying in the breeze. His eyes seemed unfocused. Vacuous, even.

“So that’s where you were, Coen.” A young man with heterochromatic eyes appeared from the corner of a street, greeting Coen happily. He turned his attention to the empty bulletin board and frowned. “Wait, you took all the requests? So you’re waiting for someone to post new ones?”

“I can’t just sleep my days away, can I?” Coen answered matter-of-factly.

Roy shook his head. He’s trying to numb himself with work and run away from his troubles. “Why aren’t you at the ballroom? Igsena’s performing.”

Coen remained silent, but he seemed forlorn.

“Okay, let’s change the subject.” Yeah, not the best question. “So tell me, what kind of requests have you been taking?”

“Everything.” Coen answered with nothing but monotony in his voice. “Missing pets, missing persons, catching someone’s spouse in an affair, exorcism, delivery, you name it. Did about twenty or so.”

“Wow, you’re a traditional witcher, aren’t you? But you aren’t a trash collector. Why did you take all the requests?” Roy shook his head. “And you should let loose once in a while. Come with me. Take a break. Get some drinks, or we can go for a round of Gwent. You decide.”

“Thank you, Roy, but I’d like to remain here.” Coen stubbornly shook his head.

“You should look in the mirror, man.” Roy looked at the Griffin and cut straight to the chase. “You look like a sad sack of shit who’s suffering from abandonment issues.”

Coen paled, and he clenched his fists.

“You’re wasting your time standing around taking requests.” Roy paused for a moment. “If you still think of me as a friend, tell me your worries. Perhaps I can solve them.” Roy cleared his throat and confidently said, “You see how Coral and I get along. I know how to turn feisty girlfriends into good girls.”

Suddenly, Roy thought he heard someone harrumph, and then he felt something pinching his arm and holding his hand. And a chill ran down his spine.

***

The witchers found themselves a spot in the Gorgon Inn.

“I-I just feel so useless.” Coen clasped his hands and hung his head low like a defeated rooster. “Ever since Igsena joined the ballroom, she’s been obsessed with it. Poetry, opera, music, you name it. That’s all she ever talks about, at work or at home. First she’d ask me weird questions, like how many stylistic devices Dandelion used in Winter, or what kind of social commentary Tarentino did in his newest work, the House of Grief, or why Franken’s Good Night is touted as the gem of northern music.”

Coen shook his head. “I am but a witcher. I can read and write, but most of what I learn is how to survive a battle with all kinds of monsters, alchemy, and the virtue of knights. I can recite them verbatim if you’d like.” He sighed. “But not things like art. It’s even more complex than an ancient tome written in a language I don’t know. I don’t have the talent to appreciate art. I just don’t have the interest for it.”

Can’t say the same for Auckes, Roy thought. He has no talent at all, but he writes stupid poems every day in an attempt to woo those noble ladies.

“I tried my best to accept her hobby. I tried to learn art in hopes that one day I could talk with her without any barriers, but I just can’t master it.”

There was surprise and doubt in his eyes. “I had no idea what she was talking about in the beginning, but the novelty kept me going. It wore off, and trying to learn only jumbled my mind up. Every time I hear her talk about art, my head hurts. And my stomach churns.”

He rubbed his cheeks like he blamed himself for not having the talent to understand art. “Every day, she comes home, eager to talk about art and performance, but I can’t even hold a discussion with her. I can feel her disappointment.”

He looked up at the sky and reminisced about the good old days. “It’s so different from how she used to be. She would complain about how her chores would make her feet sore and hands freeze. She’d talk about the local thug harassing the widows, and I joked and alleviated her worries. But not now. We’re starting to talk less. I worry we might run out of things to talk about one day.” He froze for a moment, a hint of fear lingering in his eyes. “She might not need me anymore.”

Roy rubbed his chin, his eyes glinting. He was looking at Coen in a new light. The guy is almost fifty, but he’s so insecure. He’s like a silly girl blinded by love.

“Pardon me for asking, but how many relationships have you been in?”

“Um…” Coen froze, and he tugged on the edge of the table. “Does this have anything to do with our discussion?”

“Yes, and it’s important.”

“Very well.” He hung his head low for a moment, his back stiffening up. And then he raised one finger sheepishly, rubbing the pockmarks on his chin. “I don’t have the looks, and I’m not outgoing. I don’t have many friends either, nor am I an interesting guy. I don’t really know how to please people.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, buddy. You’re better than most men.” Roy was shocked, however. Whoa, first relationship in fifty years? And Igsena’s his first love. No wonder he’s so stubborn about this. “You tried to learn more about her hobby, and that’s good.” Roy started out by acknowledging his intention. “But don’t force yourself. If a relationship does nothing but tire you out, it has no reason to exist.”

Shocked, Coen asked, “You’re asking me to split up with her?”

“What I’m saying is to be yourself. You are Coen of the Griffin School. You have your own beliefs and way of dealing with people. Remember what Keldar said? Don’t just agree with everything everyone says.”

Roy didn’t have much experience to draw on in reality, but he tried his best. “Giving in and relenting isn’t going to keep a relationship going strong. Try to remember why she started seeing you in the first place. Remember the qualities that attracted her to you.”

“You want me to tell you why she likes me?” Coen looked bemused. He was too honest to understand what Roy was talking about. Gingerly, he said, “She probably started going out with me because I saved her life. Out of gratitude, I think.”

“I disagree. You’re honest, brave, and kind,” Roy praised him, and Coen blushed. “You’re the rare kind of man who possesses the spirit of a knight, and you’re a witcher. You can perform better than most men on the battlefield. And more than one kind of battlefield. Igsena chose you because of that. She told me about it.” Confidently, he said, “She’s crazy for you, no doubt about it.”

“In the past, maybe.” Coen looked dejected. “She’s crazy for art now.”

Roy stared into Coen’s eyes and said cryptically, “Then you’ll have to prove that you’re more attractive than art. Rekindle the fire and passion.” A proud Roy said, “I don’t have to suck up to Coral. She can’t leave me now.”

***

“I have a present for you, Coral.”

“What is it?”

“A pearl necklace I picked for you. You’re the only one worthy of it.”

“Oh, never took you as a surprise person. Come here and let me reward you.”

***

“You know how to make a woman crazy for you? First you gotta conquer her heart, and then her body.” Roy paused for a moment. Yeah, that’s the order of things. “You gotta be brave. You need to give her a gift she likes.”

Coen fell silent.

With disbelief in his voice, Roy said, “You’ve never given her any presents?”

Coen struggled with himself for a moment, but he answered, “I have no idea what kind of present she would like.”

“You’re too honest for your own good.” Roy shook his head in resignation and annoyance. “This is a good chance for a gift. You know what she loves most. Think about it. What kind of gift would she like?”

“An anthology? A lute?”

“There you go, buddy.” Roy gave Coen a look of approval like he was his mentor, and he patted Coen’s shoulder. “First, you make her open up to you with the presents, and then you take the high ground and make sweet love to her. She’s going to be as sweet as a lamb once you show her your strength in bed.”

Coen was a little tempted, but he said, “But she doesn’t really talk to me now. She comes home looking tired all the time. All she wants to do is sleep.” He asked, “Can one present really help with this?”

“When’s the last time you guys did it?” Roy asked.

Coen wondered why Roy would ask that, but he realized it a moment later. His cheeks turned red, and he whispered, “Not since we came to Novigrad. She needs to perform during the day, and it takes a lot out of her. I can’t force it, right?”

Roy had a solemn look on his face. This feels like the onset of an eventual affair. So this is the root of their problems. “Does she have anyone she’s close with at the ballroom? A partner she performs with frequently? Someone she has lunch with all the time? Someone she’s close with? Are they a man or a woman?”

“Yes,” Coen blurted. “She’s close to all the performers in the ballroom. Everyone loves her.”

Roy rolled his eyes.

“I know what you’re getting at, but she’s not that kind of woman,” Coen added.

Roy looked at him. God, you don’t know how tempting this world can be. “Fine, buddy. Here’s an idea. Auckes keeps a few anthologies of romantic poems in his room. He’s not in Novigrad, so I’m giving you one of them. Give that to Igsena when she comes home from work and tell her what you really want. Tell her what you’re worried about. And don’t try to talk about art when you have no talent for it. Tell her the three little words; you should know what to do next. Oh, and you need a perfect candlelit dinner.”

It had been a while since Roy cooked, and he was itching to show his skills. “I’ll supervise your cooking. Be brave. Griffins never turn back, whether it’s in love or battle. Don’t dawdle around like some indecisive buffoon.”

“Huh?” Coen was a little surprised. He thought this was taking it a little too fast, but he couldn’t say no, not when Roy was giving him that look. He took a deep breath and nodded.

***

The sun was setting, filling the skies with beautiful hues of color before it gave way to the moon. Igsena was walking back to her home, a gust of wind kissing her. She was wearing the latest bard attire: a tight blue shirt with orange sleeves and a pair of tight pants with one leg yellow and the other leg blue. It was paired with leather boots that had golden points on their ends.

A calm, confident smile curled her lips, and sometimes she would spin around on the street like she was dancing. Only a few months had passed since she joined the ballroom, and already she had changed from a country bumpkin into a fashionable lady.

She was more confident and cheerful. And she could save some money every month for the house she would buy in Novigrad. A love nest for her and Coen. Her life was getting better.

Except for one thing.

She no longer saw her boyfriend smile as much as he used to. Ever since they came to Novigrad, Coen had been more isolated and quiet. He spent his days taking all kinds of requests. Finding missing pets and taking care of lonely old people.

He tried to learn music, poetry, and theater, but he wasn’t built for that. He was losing more and more of himself. He wasn’t like the man she loved. Yes, she was moved that he would put in the effort for her, but unlike in the past, she only felt a little tired and bored about their love life. It used to be so passionate. She wanted to see the old him. The one who could confidently talk about how he vanquished monsters.

***

Igsena crossed a few streets and passed the canal of Novigrad. Eventually, she went back to her home in the slums. Not even the light of an oil lamp was seen in the house. The only thing illuminating the living room was the light from the setting sun. There was not a soul in the house, no. There was only a table, a worn-down sofa, and the cutlery hanging from the walls. The house looked cold and uninviting.

A sigh of disappointment escaped Igsena’s lips, and she plopped down on the sofa, feeling nothing but exhaustion within her. A sense of darkness and powerlessness assailed her. This is nothing but a cold, empty house. Not a place of warmth and love. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. I should talk with Coen and end this whole thing.

But then someone emerged from the room on the second floor. A burly man descended the stairs, holding a gigantic platter in his hand. On the platter sat a plethora of food: fried eggs, gnocchi, stewed beef, grilled rabbit head, beef sausage paired with beet and goat’s cheese, fresh crab, oysters, lobsters, and more.

Candles stood in the center of the plate, forming a heart shape. And Coen looked so different from his usual self. Gone was his usual leather armor. He changed into a tight silk jacket, and his hair and beard were trimmed. He looked cleaner than he ever did. His cheeks were red, but the look in his eyes was warm and filled with love.

When he looked at her, she thought he was staring at his whole world. It took her back to the day they first met, and it made her heart flutter. She held her hands before her chest, and her cheeks were red. She was anticipating what was to come.

“I’ve gone about this the wrong way, Igsena. I’m a witcher. I shouldn’t have tried to be a bard. It made my life hard, and it’s made yours hard as well.”

Coen placed the platter on the table and whipped out an exquisite copy of Dandelion’s The Adversities of Loving. He handed it to Igsena. “I almost lost myself out of my fear of losing you, but not anymore. I am Coen of the Griffin School, student of Keldar, and the man who loves you. I hope you’ll accept my apology for my disappointing behavior as of late.”

Coen was being genuine, though there was the scent of alcohol in his breath. He had to drink a lot of dwarven liquor to build his courage up. “But most importantly, I want you to know that I love you, and I always will.”

Igsena held the gift and took a deep breath. Then she leaned on Coen’s chest. She felt a surge of warmth overflowing from her heart, and all the exhaustion and sadness was washed away by tears. “I’m the one who should apologize, Coen. I spent too much time on my work and hobby, and I neglected you. I trampled on your love.” She rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes filled with tears. With a sobbing voice, she said, “Can you give me another chance? Restart in Novigrad?”

“Of course.”

The couple stared into each other’s eyes, and the barrier that had stood between them vanished. They remained in each other’s embrace for a while before they finally enjoyed their candlelit dinner in delight.

Roy was leaning on the windowsill outside. He patted his chest and heaved a sigh of relief. Good thing that went well. Guess I’m an okay wingman. “Happy ending. Time to go home and see my family.” And Coral.

***

It was a gentle but crazy night. Roy found himself awake on a big bed in a luxurious room. He held his breath and carefully pushed Coral’s arm and leg away from him like a little prey avoiding its predator.

He slowly got out of the bed and looked at the lady who was still sleeping on it. She was as gorgeous as usual, and only when she was asleep would she be as quiet as a kitten. He sent her a flying kiss and got up, but Coral pulled him back into the bed.

Half an hour later, Roy wiped the kiss marks off his face before he left Coral’s room and stepped out into the sunlight.

Not too long later, he ran into Coen on his way to the orphanage. He was wearing new clothes and looked happier than ever before. The air of depression hanging about him was nowhere to be seen, and his smile was as warm as the sun.

But there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Roy, you are a master of love. That was a wonderful idea. You saved my relationship.” An excited Coen went ahead and grabbed Roy’s hands. “How can I ever thank you?”

Roy shook his head. “Just a favor for a friend and brother. No need for a reward.”

“No, no. You have no idea what this means to me. Keldar’s gone, and if Igsena were to leave me…” Coen shuddered. He insisted, “Griffins always repay their debt. That is our creed. Tell me what you’d like.”

Well, if he insists, refusal would be an insult. Roy mused for a while. “Can you share the first part of the Griffin Arts with the brotherhood?”

Coen’s smile froze. He hesitated, but it wasn’t an outright refusal.

“The first part, as in Dual Sign. Not including the mutation and Wingflap.” Roy showed understanding to the dilemma Coen was facing. “Go with what the voice of your heart tells you. It’s alright if you don’t want to.” Roy winked at him and suggested, “Just come over and talk to the kids and witchers more often.”

Roy vaulted over the fence and entered the castle.

Coen stared at him and the orphanage for a while. He then took a deep breath and made a decision.

***

***