The church of the Eternal Fire stood tall atop Novigrad's Temple Island, its halls perpetually bathed in warm, welcoming light.

Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart was seated atop a throne engraved with the emblem of fire. The Hierarch looked at the group of people gathered under the staircase before him. One was a man in a black shirt and a leather cap. Chappelle. Standing around him were guards of the church.

The Hierarch spoke, his voice old.

"Under your management, Novigrad has changed into a safer city. The number of minor infractions have gone down by half, and the once notorious human trafficking ring is no more. The city is now more prosperous, and the people are taking to the church more. Thanks to you, we have twenty percent more believers compared to two years ago. This is a boon to the propagation of our religion."

He looked at Chappelle, praise flickering in his eyes. "Your contributions to the church are undeniable."

"You flatter me, Hierarch. This is all thanks to you. With your blessed leadership, I am granted the strength to rid this world of evil and let it bask in the light of Eternal Fire." Chappelle bowed humbly. His metallic eyes were no longer cold and icy. Instead, he had nothing but respect for the Hierarch, as if he were a boy looking up to his brother.

The Hierarch nodded. "You have been in our service for ten years. All my past commissioners have turned to the path of corruption in mere years and abandoned the fire. You are different from them."

Cyrus had a conflicted look in his eyes. He was reluctant to punish Chappelle, and he paused for a moment.

"Do your prayers one more time, Chappelle."

"Yes, Hierarch." The doppler raised his head, his face basked in holy light. He turned his sights to the tapestry of the Eternal Fire hanging on the golden walls further in the hall, and he, with passion, chanted his prayers.

For a moment, Chappelle was harkened back to the night he was saved by the Eternal Fire. The night he was tormented by his raging mind.

"Under the flames, we are protected. Under the light, we are delivered from evil. The fire cleanses the souls of those bathed in sin. The fire is sovereign. Those who stand in the fire's way shall face reckoning. From ashes they come, to ashes they go."

"The fire illuminates. Under its light, no darkness can hide. No evil can scheme. Those who conspire with the dark shall be burned to cinders. And so we pray. May the fire envelop us in its protection forevermore and deliver us from filth. May the fire warm the path of its believers. May the fire punish evil and burn it into nothingness."

The guards loudly chanted with Chappelle, their voices echoing across the halls, bolstering the spirits of those who could hear it.

The braziers sitting upon the stage leapt and crackled, as if they were inspired by something unseen by the eye.

"You're a good commissioner, Chappelle, but you have one disappointing trait." Cyrus nodded, and then his face took on a stern expression. He crossed his hands before his chest, resting his chin upon them. The Hierarch stared at the commissioner, his eyes twinkling with severity.

"Under your management, Novigrad is seeing an increase in the number of non-human creatures. Dwarves, elves, half-elves, mutants, and even practitioners of magic have taken over southeast Novigrad. I see them everywhere. Their existence has broken this city's balance. How did this happen?"

A pregnant pause descended upon the hall.

Chappelle, without missing a beat, answered, "The non-humans have lived their lives abiding by the rules the church has established. They have never harmed anyone. They're better beings than the gang members of this city. I see no need to oppress them. That would only push them into a rebellion. And the fire is supposed to be fair to everyone, no matter who or what they are."

"Heresy, Chappelle!" Cyrus slammed his throne's armrest, veins throbbing on the back of his hand. He launched into a tirade, his voice scraping. "Non-humans will never be on our side. The dwarves owe their allegiance to Mahakam, and the elves are conspiring to revive their fallen kingdom. The followers of magic delight in playing with the human heart, and the mutants are the worst of the lot. Butchers who care for nothing but coin. They are the great connectors of every evil in this land. The witchers are the most egregious of them."

Cyrus was agitated. "Their sin is written in their blood. They will never put their faith in the fire. All their allegiance is nothing but a facade. Once they gather enough of their kind, they will show their true colors and push for their heretical beliefs to be respected. They want nothing more than to put out the fire and turn the city into their stronghold, where their rules reign supreme."

Cyrus clenched his fists, and he took a deep breath, his cheeks turning sickly red. "Chappelle, the fire has given me guidance. You have made a pact with the witchers and befriended the Collector, a follower of magic. You have abandoned the path of the fire. Your actions have infected this city with deep evil, but fortunately, it has not done enough damage just yet. It is not too late to repent. Given your contributions to the church, you are to retain your position and power as commissioner, but you must atone for your sins."

Cyrus pushed himself up and gave Chappelle his orders.

"Crack down on the Collector and Cleaver. Impose heavy taxes on herbalists, oneiromancers, and non-humans. Call it a non-human tax or magical tax or what have you. Bring down the number of non-humans in this city and reinstate balance. Take it slow, of course. You have six months."

Cyrus took a deep breath, his age spots red from fury. The Hierarch thumped his chest and ordered, "But this next order must be carried out immediately. You must rain down punishment upon the mutants. Lead the guards on a crusade and take down their sacrilegious base. You must stop their evil deeds. I will not allow Novigrad to be a stain on the honor of mankind. And tell the bards to put a stop to their nefarious odes to the witchers."

Cyrus turned to Chappelle, his eyes filled with anticipation and expectation. "Should you execute your duties perfectly, then you will be allowed to remain as my commissioner."

***

"Hierarch, you have never been so extreme in your measures. You have always encouraged a peaceful coexistence between humans and non-humans. That's the primary reason Novigrad became home to so many people. That's why this city is as prosperous as it is." A confused smile curled Chappelle's lips, and he had a conflicted look in his eyes.

"That was a different time. That was then the number of non-humans was under control. They were no threat then, but things have changed. I do not expect you to kick them out immediately, so let us talk about the witchers first."

Cyrus raised his head, his eyes glinting. He was reminded of that talk he had with Vilgefortz. They struck a deal. If he could get rid of the witchers and make sure Novigrad rejects them, Vilgefortz would assist him in spreading the influence of the fire, and not just in the North either.

Vilgefortz had connections with the South. He promised to put in a good word and spread the word of Eternal Fire to the South, where the Great Sun reigned supreme. Nothing was more important than the spread of the gospel. Cyrus was of an advanced age, and his only wish before his death was to see the word of the Eternal Fire spread across the world.

Chappelle tried to say something, but he shook his head and sighed, his face ashen. "Sorry, Hierarch, but I cannot do that."

"What did you say?" The Hierarch's eyes went wide, a look of disbelief hanging on his face. He could not fathom why his most loyal subordinate would go against his orders.

"Hierarch." Chappelle looked at the old man he once respected. "What you want me to do will inevitably take the church into decline. You will be ruining the work we've been doing for the last two years. The non-humans and monster hunters have never broken any laws, and they have lent their assistance in the quelling of the ills that have been troubling this city. They have done nothing but help us. They should not be punished for their actions. Perhaps you have been tricked by someone who wishes to take out the witchers, but I am happy to take you to them should you need me to prove my word."

He looked at the Hierarch with a plea in his eyes.

Chappelle knew he could feign obedience and carry out his orders, then he could tell the witchers about Cyrus' plan and escape, but it would be useless. The witchers would not leave. And from the moment he assumed the identity of Chappelle, the doppler had sworn to never escape like a dog with its tail between its legs anymore. The church would be his final home.

"You're paying them respect? Have they gotten to you, Chappelle?"

"No, Hierarch. I am merely telling the truth."

"You are beyond salvation." Cyrus closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain, then he turned to the guard. "Shed his robe and relieve him of his lamia. Take away his holy item. Chappelle, from now on and forevermore, you are no longer the commissioner of security. You have no right to be the fire's believer."

Cyrus held his chest, his breathing ragged. He was severely disappointed in Chappelle. "Novigrad no longer welcomes you. You are to leave this city within the day and never return."

Chappelle looked at the fire and spread his arms, letting his erstwhile underlings take his equipment away. A senile and addled Hierarch did not deserve his loyalty and trust. He started doubting if the Eternal Fire was actually a light in the darkness that saved him once.

"Hierarch." One of the guards looked surprised. "The commissioner doesn't…"

"He is no longer the commissioner. What's wrong?"

"He doesn't have the holy item with him."

"You flout the church's rule this brazenly, Chappelle? You must have your holy item with you at all times. That has been mandatory for more than three centuries." The Hierarch walked down the stairs and approached Chappelle. He grabbed the doppler by the collar, his eyes flaring with fury.

Cyrus' hands were callused down to the fingers. They almost looked like little hoes made of branches, and he held Chappelle down. "Where is your holy item?"

Chappelle stood up straight and feigned calmness. "In my room."

"You, retrieve the item," ordered Cyrus. He then turned his cataract-filled eyes to Chappelle sharply. Chappelle looked at him, seemingly unfazed, but the hand behind his back was sweating.

"Hold on. Have you ever seen him with his holy item before?"

The guards exchanged a look, then they shook their heads. "Now that you mentioned it, we haven't seen his holy item for a year or two."

"And that was when he started befriending the non-humans?"

"Yes." The young guard beside Chappelle had a conflicted look on his face.

A horrifying thought struck the Hierarch. His pupils contracted, his breathing got heavier, and he stuck his hand into his robe and whipped out a silver necklace with a torch pendant hanging on the edge.

"Capture him!"

Chappelle's face turned a shade of sickly red. He froze up for a moment and took a step back, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment.

The guards, however, realized something was off, and they clamped down on Chappelle's arms and legs, restricting his movement.

Cyrus held his pendant and squeezed it onto Chappelle's head.

Wisps of smoke billowed off Chappelle, and colorful lights strobed as his skin and bones bubbled like boiling water, then they shrunk. Chappelle's human face melted away, bubbling and wriggling like a ball of dough going through a long kneading process.

Not a moment later, Chappelle was gone, replaced by a bizarre humanoid creature. He was wearing a pair of suspenders. The creature was the height of a dwarf, but he had a disproportionately large head. His features were slammed together. His eyes were yellow and beady, his nose was round, his lips were thick, and his ears were pointy, though a bit shorter than an elf's. And his face was covered with wrinkles.

The creature had no neck, his head joined to its torso. His limbs were slender as a spider's. His arms extended down to his knees. The creature's hands were bigger than any human's, and they were covered in black fur. His equally gigantic legs had black fur covering their backs as well.

"You're a doppler. A heretic! A blasphemous creation! How dare you!" Disgust and contempt flared within the Hierarch's cataract-filled eyes. He slammed his foot into the doppler's belly, and the creature fell to the ground, a howl of pain escaping his lips.

The guards, though shocked, quickly propped the creature up, then they whipped out their holy items and held them against the creature.

"Take him to the plaza." Cyrus sat atop the staircase, wheezing. He could barely hold himself up, and he was leaning against the stairs as he issued orders to his underlings. There was nothing but contempt in his eyes. He would love nothing more than to destroy this heretical creation. Fury had burned away his mind, and his soul was driven by contempt.

"Gather our believers and the citizens. Pile up the firewoods and set up the stakes. I shall burn this despicable maggot before the eyes of the citizen and avenge my true commissioner."

"Yes, Hierarch."

***

Two handsome, shining knights left the ballroom, disappointed. They stared at the bustling streets and the blossoming flowers standing around, spacing out.

"What rotten luck. Dandelion's out when we need him. What now? Our lead's gone cold," the black-haired knight told Grimm.

"Well, at least we're in Novigrad. No harm waiting for a little longer." Grimm smiled. "We should go for some sightseeing while we're at it. Oh, and one more thing. The more glorious a city is on the outside, the filthier the darkness it has on the inside. Toussaint might look peaceful, but even its people are conspiring with succubi." Grimm caressed his greatsword, his eyes flickering with excitement. "Novigrad's darkness will only run deeper. And that's where we come in."

He smacked Cahir's shoulder. "We shall cleanse this city's darkness as per a knight's virtue."

"You've been talking about virtues all the way, Grimm, and I've lost count of all the good deeds you've done." Cahir followed him to the street. "When is this coming to a head?"

"Have you heard of the legend of the Lady of the Lake? Once she appears before us and grants us the title of virtuous knights, our quest will be complete."

"Which means we'll have to travel to a lake. But Novigrad only has ports."

"Worry not. When the time comes, it doesn't matter if we're at a lake or the sea."

The knights chatted along the way, then they stopped in their tracks. They saw a group of citizens moving toward the northern part of the city, where the bridge leading to the Temple Island was. A group of men in black jackets and shirts with the emblem of fire on them were traveling down the streets, hollering at those who would listen.

"Citizens of Novigrad, come to the Temple Island at once. The guards have captured a doppler that has been hiding in their midst, disguising himself as Chappelle, the commissioner of security. The Hierarch himself will be setting the creature ablaze. You are all invited to witness this ceremony."

The knights exchanged a look and strode toward the bridge.

***

At the same time, Rience and a masked sorceress were waiting in a dark alleyway in Gildorf. Once they heard the shouting, they made their way toward Gawain's house, and they disappeared into thin air.

***

The gathering crow didn't escape the young witcher's attention. When he heard the guards' hollering, concern flared in his eyes. He quickly darted into a quiet alleyway and contacted his comrades.

***

***