"So, you met the bard? A year and a half ago?" asked Lambert as he leaned on the wall next to where Letho brushed down his horse. He didn't know the viper very well, but maybe the witcher could help.
"One of the many encounters. That one was the last time I spoke to him. I saw him once more last summer, but the crowd was thick and I was in a hurry. Why do you care?" the viper lifted his eyebrow as he continued his task. Lambert sighed.
"I don't really know. I guess I'm just looking for scraps. I didn't know him that well, but after fifteen years of acquittance... let's say it isn't easy to watch him like this. How... how was he? When you talked," the wolf asked again. It was silent for a moment. Just when Lambert thought the viper didn't want to talk and was prepared to turn around and go after his chores, the giant bald witcher shook his head.
"He was crumbling. Outwards he was his usual self, but you could see that something was wrong. When before he drank for merry, now he drank to drown the sorrow. He wrote a song about your brother. Called him Butcher. Telling him to burn. I only saw him sing it once. After that, he broke down crying. He wrote a few other ones, not that nasty. I figured that they broke up," the viper finished brushing and turned to leave.
"They didn't break up, because they were never together," mumbled the wolf, at which Letho snorted.
"Of course, they weren't," the viper retorted mockingly. "And the songs about golden eyes, flowing white locks, and sweet kisses were about me, obviously," he threw his head around, hand throwing imaginary hair out of the way before he turned his eyes at Lambert, who stared at the viper completely baffled, and left the stables with spring in his steps.
"They really weren't. You have no idea how dense Geralt is," grumbled the wolf under his breath, before sighing and also leaving the stables. It was time for Ciri's training after all.
...
Eskel walked to Geralt's room, to find the white-haired witcher pacing in circles, not noticing his brother even as he came right to the door, that was left open.
"Hey wolf," Eskel greeted him, and that at least made Geralt lift his head and look at him with surprise.
"Oh, hey Eskel," he mumbled. His eyes were bloodshot and lifeless hiding in the dark, sleep-deprivation-induced holes, his entire appearance disheveled, and his hands were slightly trembling. Eskel felt another wave of worry wash over him. Geralt hasn't been truly himself in two years. At first, Eskel thought it was because of Ciri and everything that happened with Nilfgaard. Now he began to see things differently.
"You wanna go hunt? It's my turn, but you look like you need an outing," he offered. To tell the truth, he didn't need to go hunt yet. It could wait a few days, as they had enough meat from the last hunt, and that wasn't even counting all of the dried meat and the more durable vegetables. But hell, Geralt looked like even five more minutes in the keep would make him go crazy.
"Okay, let's go," Geralt nodded after a moment, already scrambling for the door, when Eskel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Wolf. It's winter. Get dressed properly and meet me outside in half an hour. I'll take the tools," he patted him on the back, before leaving the room and closing the door. They needed to have a talk, didn't they?