The Witcher (2019) s01e04 Episode Script

Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials

Ciri - [THUMPING.]
- [GASPS.]
- Dara? - [TWIG CRACKS.]
- [GASPS.]
Please don't hurt me.
Keep your aim true.
I'm lost.
I don't know how I got here.
If she runs, kill her.
Where are you taking me? I need to find Dara.
Please! What is your name? Fiona.
- Where am I? How did I get - You are in Brokilon Forest.
Follow me.
I tell you no lie, it swallowed the whole village, it did.
- Not a bone to be found! Oh, don't give me that look, shitling.
That's why we had to call him The White Wolf! And he stood in the middle of that frozen lake like he knew it was coming for him.
The ice cracked open and a selkiemore shot out! Oh, you've never seen one, but it'd take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil's teeth! [GASPING.]
And it swallowed that witcher whole! Oh, this is brilliant! Oh, sorry.
It's just Geralt's usually so stingy with the details.
Uh and then what happened? He died.
Eh He's fine.
Look, I was there.
- I saw it with my own - [CRASH.]
- See? - [GASPING.]
- Oh What's that stench? - Selkiemore guts.
- [MAN.]
Ugh! Had to get it from the inside.
I'll take what I'm owed.
Toss a coin to your witcher O, Valley of Plenty Whoa [ALL.]
Toss a coin to your witcher - A friend of humanity - Yikes.
- Thank you! You're welcome.
And now, Witcher, it's time to repay your debt.
"What debt?" you're probably asking yourself in your head right now.
Well, I'll tell you.
I've made you famous, Witcher.
By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I'm asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.
Fuck off, bard.
For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights.
The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods.
Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile.
And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of Fuck! Food, women and wine, Geralt! [GRUNTS.]
Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest.
It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world.
How hard could it be? I'm not your friend.
Oh, really? Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom? Yeah, well, yeah, exactly.
That's what I thought.
Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal.
The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier's triumphant performance! How many of these lords want to kill you? Hard to say.
One stops keeping count after a while.
Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes.
Ooh, yeah, that face! Ooh! Scary face! No lord in his right mind will come close if you're standing next to me with a puss like that.
Ooh, on second thoughts - might want to lay off the Cintran ale.
A clear head would be best.
I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry.
I'm not killing anyone.
Not over the petty squabbles of men.
Yes, yes, yes.
You never get involved.
Except you actually do, all of the time.
Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous? Actually, I've always wanted to know, do witchers ever retire? Yeah.
When they slow and get killed.
Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with.
I want nothing.
Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you.
I need no one.
And the last thing I want is someone needing me.
And yet here we are.
Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier? Ah.
Well, uh, they were sort of covered in selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed.
Anyway, you're not going tonight as a witcher.
Right, so stick close to me, look mean and pretend you're a mute.
Can't have anyone finding out who you are.
Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher! Oh, shit.
I haven't seen you since the plague.
Good times, Mousesack.
I've missed your sour complexion.
I feared this would be a dull affair, but now the White Wolf is here, perhaps all is not lost.
Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader? - [JASKIER.]
What? - Walk with me.
To Mousesack! - [ALL CHEERING.]
Yeah! - To Mousesack! - [LAUGHING HEARTILY.]
Prince Windhalm of Attre! I've been advising the Skelligen crown for years.
A tad rough around the edges, but they're of the earth.
Like me.
- Castellan Haxo.
- Old and crusty.
How long before this horse trading is done? I find royalty best taken in small doses.
I wouldn't count on leaving before dawn.
These suitors will vie all night for Princess Pavetta's hand.
Marrying into this monarchy is a mighty prize.
Who wouldn't want to be king of the most powerful force in the land? Hm.
So, which one of these little shits is your coin on? Come with me, there's much for you to see.
It's not a fair bet.
That red-headed scanderlout over there, Crach an Craite, will marry Pavetta.
The Lioness has already arranged it with the boy's uncle, Eist Tuirseach.
No one would dare make a move on an alliance that powerful.
Handy with a blade.
- Handy with women, too.
- All an act.
Queen Calanthe refused his proposal three times after King Roegner died, despite the two of them gliding around each other like courting swans.
No, no, no.
She was not for living in her husband's shadow again.
Something about you reminds me of a scoundrel I once saw fleeing my wife's chambers! Um, well - Drop your trousers.
- What? I didn't get a proper look at the little shit's face, but that pimply arse I'd remember anywhere.
Well uh, uh Ah, Geralt.
Forgive me, my lord.
This happens all the time.
It's true, he has the face of a cad and a coward.
- Mm.
- But, truth be known, he was kicked in the balls by an ox as a child.
Well, that's tr true.
Here, drown your sorrows on me, eunuch.
Oh, wow.
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
First of all, you hog all the fanfare, then you go and ruin my courtly reputation.
I saved your life.
You're on your own from here on.
Try not to get any daggers in your back before dawn.
All rise for Her Majesty, the Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra! Beer! [LOUD CHEER.]
Apologies, noble sirs.
A few upstart townships in the south needed reminding who was Queen.
I find it's good for one's blood and humors.
Ready your suitor's tales of glory, good lords.
My daughter is eager to have this over with.
As am I.
Bard, music! [CHEER.]
She No, no, no! A jig! You can save your bloody maudlin nonsense for my funeral.
It will be done soon.
You think I wanted to marry your father? I'll have none of your waterworks here.
You're the daughter of the Lioness, behave like it! Perhaps I should have some starving serfs brought in to slaughter, then.
Or I could decapitate some elves and have their heads hung about as a lesson to those who would defy me.
I will not have your hysteria turn this night upside down.
Besides, that boorish lout is the key to Cintra holding power after I taste clay.
He's from good stock.
You could do worse.
I could do better! You can have who you want when you're married.
You have your mother's blood.
You'll be fine.
Where were you headed, Fiona, to end up so lost? I was running from the war.
You really don't remember how you came to be in Brokilon Forest? Yet you heard it call to you.
There were many forests like it before the Conjunction of the Spheres.
We adapted, fought off the mutants and men who sought our end.
Now only we remain.
I'm so glad you're alive! Is he going to be all right? Bite down on this.
The waters of Brokilon are potent.
All newcomers to the forest must drink the waters.
If they bear ill intent towards Brokilon, they die.
If they're pure in heart, they survive and may stay here.
And over time, the waters of Brokilon will lessen the suffering they have endured and make them forget.
I think you'd like that.
Am I right Fiona? Because you're scared of more than just war, aren't you? You will both drink the waters, and all will be revealed.
You lie, you little shite! You've never faced so much as a bad meal in your life, never mind a manticore.
I've had manticores thrice as fat and ugly as you perish under my steel! [MAN 1.]
Under your bullshit, more like.
- How many stings has it got, then? - Two.
Hah! Go away and shite! - It's five.
I know.
- Your Majesty, that's Geralt of Rivia.
I've actually killed one.
Enough! [CHUCKLES.]
We have a renowned guest here tonight.
Perhaps he can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth.
Are you calling me a liar, old man? Aah! The Butcher of Blaviken bleats utter nonsense.
Perhaps the lords encountered rare subspecies of manticore.
Perhaps our esteemed guest would like to entertain us with how he slayed the elves at the edge of the world? [LAUGHTER AND CHEERING.]
There was no slaying.
I had my arse kicked by a ragged band of elves.
I was about to have my throat cut when Filavandrel let me go.
But the song! Yeah, the song.
At least when Filavandrel's blade kissed my throat, I didn't shit myself.
Which is all I can hope for you, good lords.
At your final breath, a shitless death.
Not going to shit meself But I doubt it.
It would have been your blade at Filavandrel's throat had you been there, Your Majesty.
Not that any elven bastard would crawl from their lair to meet you on the field.
Any man willing to paint himself in the shadow of his failures will make for far more interesting conversation this night.
Come, Witcher.
Take a seat by my side while I change.
Why did she call you Fiona? Mousesack, he helped raise me and he warned me not to let anyone know who I was outside the castle.
- And now, the Black Knight is after me.
- Castle? I'm Princess Cirilla - of Cintra.
- [GASPS.]
What's the matter? Your grandmother slaughtered my family! No, that's not true.
She ordered it.
- After Filavandrel's uprising - She wouldn't do that.
Her soldiers they laughed when they did it.
Killing, raping They laughed the hardest when they were swinging babies from their legs, smashing their heads in.
I was the only one left.
Because I hid.
I should've saved them.
Or fought and died.
Uh - I don't know what to say.
- Say nothing.
They're gone now.
I would do anything to forget who I was.
I can't.
I have to find my destiny.
Why? Because your grandmother said you should? Maybe you should start thinking for yourself.
Because she is dead.
And you are here.
Damn this cursed thing.
I'd as soon see this night out in armor.
As would I.
Tell me, how does a witcher find himself at my daughter's wedding feast dressed like a [LAUGHS.]
I'm protecting the bard from vengeful royal cuckolds.
Hm! Idiots, the lot of them.
Still, I'm glad of your company, which could prove handy.
I have no doubt blood will spill here tonight.
Ah, save the good Queen's breath.
I'm not for hire as a bodyguard.
You were hired just so by the bard.
I'm helping the idiot free of his coin.
And he's the idiot? I'm simply saying, surely if all goes to hell here tonight, I can count on you to strategically remove certain irritants that may present themselves? I'd do so myself, only I'm bound to uphold an artifice of decorum and fairness.
I can't help you.
So perilously direct.
As Queen, I could command it.
If I were one of your subjects.
I could torture you so very slowly into compliance.
Her Majesty will do as she wishes.
I'm not for turning.
Oh, come now.
Everyone has their price.
Lord Peregrine of Nilfgaard.
Good chance, Peregrine, aah! [MAN 2.]
Go on, Lord Peregrine! - [BAGPIPES BLARE.]
Make another sound, Draig Bon-Dhu, and I'll have your guts sewn into pipes and sent to your mother.
Queen Calanthe, my marriage to your daughter will unite the jewels of the north and south, forging an unbreakable alliance that none would dare cross.
And I am one of five brothers with no sisters.
My potent seed inside Pavetta will produce the strongest of male heirs.
Cintra is indeed the jewel of the north, yet Nilfgaard remains the shit rag of the south, and that's saying something! [LAUGHTER AND JEERING.]
Tell me, is it true you drink piss water and feast on your own young? [LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE.]
Nilfgaardian kings don't remain kings for long.
Who will take the Usurper's crown? You? How long will you last? A year? A month? A day? [CHEERING.]
Lord Steergart of Kaedwen.
I know what they say, "Poor Queen Kalis, another girl".
- I mean, I'm just a womb to him.
No more than a fleshy contraption for squeezing out heirs.
Bastard cares more about his hounds than he does me.
Take her.
- Shh.
Why don't you stay in Lyria? Keep me company.
As soon as I've delivered Your Majesty safely back to court, I'm afraid I must return to Aedirn.
I envy you.
A king's mage.
- How splendid! - [BABY CRIES.]
Oh! Oh, come, now.
We've been traveling together for days.
Speak freely.
I love that I traded everything to get my seat at court.
I love that I believed that it would all be worth it, that this would be my legacy.
The greatest mage to have ever graced a court.
And I really, really love that instead, I've gotten to spend the last three decades cleaning up stupid political messes.
Glorified royal arse wiper.
I have it far worse.
People look at you for who you are, not for what you can give them.
You made the right choice, giving all that nonsense up.
To this baby, I am the whole world.
If only it weren't so boring.
Who is that - [MEN GROANING.]
- [THUMP.]
- Run! - [SOBBING.]
I'll have that brigand's head on a pike outside the King's castle before nightfall.
How dare he? That was an assassin, not a brigand.
What are you saying? He was paid to kill you.
What? Why? It appears you've run out of chances to provide your King a male heir.
No, he wouldn't.
- Oh, that prick! - [WHOOSHING.]
- Go! - [YELLS.]
We're being tracked! Think! What did the King give you that could be traced? [WHOOSHING.]
- Come on! [SCREAMS.]
I can't hold it! Hurry! [SCREAMS.]
They're still tracking us.
Get up, you useless witch.
How could you not foresee this? You were supposed to protect me.
Oh, you horrible, useless bitch! [SOBS.]
Oh, fishmonger, oh, fishmonger Come quell your daughter's hunger - To pull on my horn - [ALL CLAPPING IN TIME.]
As it rises in the morn For 'tis naught but bad luck To fuck with a puck Lest your grandkid be born A hairy young faun Bleating and braying all day, hey ho The fishmonger's daughter, ba, ba How much more of this peacocking must I endure? This All this because male tradition demands it.
If I were a man, I could simply tell the whole lot of them to fuck off, declare outright who Pavetta should marry and have done with it.
Or, better yet, let the poor girl decide her own fate.
Something tells me this isn't the first time you've navigated the vagaries of male tradition.
In fact, I'd wager you thrive on it.
Spoken as one who has navigated his own share of fools.
Tell me, Witcher, why are there so few of you left? [GUESTS CHEERING AND APPLAUDING.]
It is no longer possible to create more of us, since the sacking of Kaer Morhen.
Tell me, Your Majesty why do you risk your life on the battlefield when you can rest on your throne? Because there is a simplicity in killing monsters, is there not? Seems we are quite the pair, Geralt of Rivia.
Crach! It's time.
Get your hairy ass up here.
Forgive my late intrusion, Your Majesty, and for the misunderstanding with your guards.
Please! I come in peace.
I need but one moment of your time.
I am Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald, and I have come to claim your daughter's hand in marriage.
A knight of no renown from a backwater hamlet who dares to enter my court without revealing his face? I apologize, Your Majesty.
A knight's oath prevents me from revealing my face - until the sounding of the twelfth bell.
- Bollocks to that.
- [YELPS.]
Witcher - kill it.
- No.
- Whatever the price.
- This is no monster.
I order you.
This knight has been cursed.
You're as useless as the rest of them.
Slay this beast! - [GASPS.]
- [YELLS.]
Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta.
By the Law of Surprise.
- Oh - No! Kill them both! The Law of Surprise has been called.
You kill them kill me.
My Queen Stop! Stop! Please.
- I can give him a boy.
Take her instead.
As a sacrifice.
Duny! Oh! [MURMURING.]
I told you to stay away.
Your Majesty the witcher speaks the truth.
I was cursed as a young boy.
My whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from a certain death.
By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment.
Whatever windfall he came home to find - would be mine.
- Oh, the stupid bastard.
Better you had let him die! [GERALT.]
You knew he'd come, and you pushed me to kill him.
And you carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father! 'Tis no swindle.
Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself.
- Don't lecture me, Eist.
- It's an honest gamble.
As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a newborn pup.
Or a child of surprise.
He could not know.
Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta.
When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise.
I knew I knew no woman would ever accept me like this.
And so I waited.
I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse breaks.
I never intended to meet her.
Just to watch from afar.
Until destiny intervened and our hearts collided.
And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me like this.
Who are we to challenge destiny? Life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart.
Honor destiny's wish, or unleash its wrath upon us.
There is no us! I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child! Is there not a man amongst you who does not cower before destiny? You, Witcher who has known monsters of every fang and claw are you afraid too? No.
I've seen mothers lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the 50 other children in the plague cart outside.
Destiny helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit.
There isn't.
But a promise made must be honored.
As true for a commoner as it is for a queen.
I love Duny, Mother.
I will marry him.
I will finally be free.
Here is your destiny.
No! My Queen, are you hurt? [SPEAKING ELDER.]
Do you believe in destiny now? [GRUNTS.]
I thought your grandmother's gift had skipped you as it did me.
It seems I was wrong.
About so many things.
Destiny has spoken! And I have listened.
The Law of Surprise will be honored.
Pavetta will marry Lord Urcheon.
React poorly, and you won't just face the Lioness, you will be facing the sea hounds of Skellige.
Because Queen Calanthe has agreed to my proposal of marriage.
There will be two vows here tonight! I assume that's agreeable.
Dara? [SIGHS.]
Dara? I drank the waters.
It's gonna be okay.
What's going to be okay? Everything.
Leave your past behind.
Join us.
Drink and forget.
Why isn't it working? Come.
Shan-Kayan calls to you.
Which one of us are you here for? I'm sorry you didn't have a life.
But if truth be told, you're not missing much.
I know it's easy for me to say with warm breath in my lungs, and you with nothing.
Still what would you have had? Parents? Well, they're the ones who wrote your last act, so not much lost there.
Friends? Most likely fair weather.
Lovers? Fun for a bit, I'll admit, but all eventually disappoint.
And let's face it, you're a girl.
Your mother was right about one thing.
We're just vessels.
And even when we're told we're special, as I was, as you would've been, we're still just vessels for them to take and take until we're empty and alone.
So, count yourself lucky.
You've cheated the game and won without even knowing it.
Sleep well.
With my blessing I thee bind.
- [GASPS.]
The twelfth bell has not yet rung.
What has happened? I think your blessing of this marriage has fulfilled a destiny.
The curse has been lifted.
Whew! [LAUGHS.]
I think this has the makings of my greatest ballad yet.
If you're alive in the morning.
Don't grope for trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn.
No, wait! Wait.
You saved my life.
I must repay you.
You've proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same.
- I want nothing.
- No, please.
Please, Geralt of Rivia, do not feel like you're doing me a service.
I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt.
I claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise.
Give me that which you already have but do not know.
No! What have you done, Witcher? Fear not, Your Majesty, if I am seen in your kingdom again, it'll be to kill a real monster, not lay claim to a crop or a new pup.
Destiny can go fu Pavetta? Are you Oh Fuck.
Clearly the girl has access to immense primal power.
Yeah, and with no idea how to control it.
I'm gonna stay.
Guide her.
- You're a good man, Mousesack.
- You should stay too.
This has been enough partying for me.
I'm getting out of here.
You're bound to this now, Geralt.
Whether you like it or not.
I'm not for changing.
You know me better than that.
Yes, I do, but you can't outrun destiny just because you're terrified of it.
It's coming, Geralt.
Not believing won't change that.
This was just a girl using her magic to stop her mother from gutting her lover.
- Nothing more.
- So you say.
But the bond that will come into being between you and this child when it is born, will be extraordinary.
If you dismiss it, leave without claiming this child surprise, you will surely unleash true calamity upon us all.
I'll take that chance.
Mind yourself.
True words are rare birds in courts like this.
Watch for daggers in your back.
Or, more likely, poison.
Be careful, old friend.
Queen Calanthe.
Mistress, I've found her! [GRUNTS.]
Is it working? Calanthe's progeny is in Brokilon Forest.
We can spare ten thousand men to take it, sir.
- Maybe 12.
- Shut up! Armies are not the way into Brokilon Forest.
Damn it! [GASPS.]
- Come on, get moving! - [YELPS.]
You must drink from the source.
What are you, child?
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