To Trust a Witcher

Kaer Morhen

Apparently jumping off the horse with an injured leg is 'detrimental' and 'unhelpful' according to Geralt, so he helps me off the horse as I grumble under my breath, placing me gently on my feet. 

"Can you walk?" he asks, knowing I am going to say yes either way. 

"Yes." With a quick goodbye to Roach and wishing her an enjoyable meal, I follow Geralt out of the stable and into the keep. As we near the doors, I can hear people speaking, laughing, and yelling.

I start becoming hesitant, wishing I had a weapon on me to protect myself, just in case I need it. Geralt senses that I've lagged behind and motions me forward. "Don't worry. They're not going to hurt you."

He pushes the door open, and the voices immediately silence. 

We walk into a wide open room, with multiple wooden tables and benches. There's a tree in the far back with silver medallions hung on it. I tuck that image away for now to ask Geralt later about. Right in front of the tree, there's a big fire that I assume they use to make food. If you would ask me, it seems a bit risky placing the fire aside the tree, but I guess no one asked.

I shift my attention to the four men in the room, all wearing a similar silver medallion as Geralt does. The first one I survey is older than the rest. He has white hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, but unlike Geralt, he has wrinkles and while still fit, I can see is worn out from the years. 

The second one has a bushy black beard and mustache. He regards me coldly, so I move on quickly.

I see mischief sparkle in the third one's eyes as he views us two, as if he knows about the trouble that I will bring and is happy with the entertainment I will provide. He has shoulder-length ginger hair and a beard to match. He smirks at me. At this point, I can't tell if I should be wary more of- the second or third Witcher.

Finally, I study the fourth one. He has long brown hair tied back, although a single strand falls into his face. He is not regarding me like either of the previous ones. Instead, he is studying me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve.

The silence has only lasted for a few seconds, before they break out of it. A couple of them yell Geralt's name and head over to him, hugging him and slapping him on his back.

"You old hag, you're still alive!" 

I nearly choke on my own spit. If I called him old hag, I'm pretty sure he would disown me. 

Geralt chuckles, "Eskel! I'm surprised to see you still in one piece with the way you swing your swords."

I put two and two together and identify number four as Eskel, the one who viewed me as a puzzle. 

He places a hand on his heart, as if Geralt wounded him. "What! I have absolute perfect form!" 

Before Geralt can respond, the older man speaks up, and the others quiet down, "We are glad to have you back home, Geralt."

They obviously all respect him, whoever he is. 

"Thank you, Vesemir. Glad to be back." 

Vesemir, then. Number one has been identified.

Two more to go.

"And who is this?" All attention shifts back to me. Oh goodie. I already miss the brief period of time in which they hadn't paid attention to me. 

Their gazes on me make me nervous, but Geralt places a hand on my shoulder. They won't hurt me, especially with him here.

Straightening up, I identify myself, "I am Princess Cirilla of Cintra."