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QUICK FIC 19
The tradition started with Lettenhove. The first Viscount wanted something to celebrate the foundation of his lands. So, in the middle of summer, the “Flying Fires’ Festival” was created.
Jaskier always liked the festival. There were kites and fire-eaters, music and food. It was also a time when his sisters and himself could act like the children they were. It was a good stress-relief.
Now, he wished he could have shared it with Geralt. But after the man refused -no, he didn’t even get an answer- after the man didn’t care to respond when asked about going to the coast, after getting yelled by the most important person in his life; Jaskier decided to go back to Lettenhove by himself and to embrace his title.
It wasn’t easy but he had his family: his sisters were there to help him, his nieces and nephews to bring him joy. He wasn’t alone, even if, sometimes, he felt like he was.
Everything was going smoothly, even with the war going on. People needed something to cheer them up and the festival was perfect for that. Well, everything was going smoothly until a week before the beginning.
“What do you mean, there is a monster in Lettenhove?
- Just what I said, my Lord. Two people are missing after they went to the forest, both were experimented hunters so, they just didn’t get lost.
- Just what I needed. I’ll send word for a witcher.
- A witcher? Are you sure, my Lord?
- They’re not the most social people but if it’s a monster out there, they’ll do the job for a fair price. Better than a Mage, anyway, Jakub.
- Yes, indeed. The one engaged by your grandfather emptied our coffers. I’ll have riders send the message to the neighbouring cities and villages.”
Jakub left Jaskier’s office and the viscount huffed. With his luck, Geralt will be the one answering his request. He slumped on his chair and whimpered:
“My life sucks…”
Words went out, and riders too and two days before the festival, the riders came back with witchers. Yes, witchers, plurals, because apparently, they had things to do not so far away (probably a big monster needing more than one witcher to kill).
So, Lettenhove got five witchers. And apparently, most of them was of the Wolf School (and one Cat). Geralt was here with, surprise surprise, his Child of Surprise. Their mentor, Vesemir; the nicest twin, Eskel; a nd the rebellious youngest, Lambert, with his Cat friend, Aiden.
“JASKIER??
- It’s My Lord, for you, witcher.” That was the eldest of his sisters: Josephine.
“My Lord?” asked the witcher, dumbly.
“Yes, this is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove and your employer.” Ah! Judith, the second daughter and first twin. So normally…
“I presume, that after 22 years of my brother following you, taking care of you after a hunt, making sure you were paid your fair price, etc, etc, you know everything you need to know about your traveling companion.” Yes, the third daughter and second twin, Justine.
“Maybe I can show his daughter my room! We can share!” The fourth, last and youngest Jezabel. She was only 15 years old, so the closest in age to Cirilla.
“That’s a good idea, we need to talk about the contract and other things.
- Vesemir…
- Don’t argue with me on this, Geralt.” Geralt could do nothing else than nod. Cirilla and Jezabel left the room.
“Now, boy! Tell me everything and don’t hide anything!” Said Vesemir, angrily and pointing his finger at the White Wolf. It was the twins who answered first.
“If Life could give me one blessing…” started Judith.
“… it would be to take you off my hands” ended Justine.
“That was the last words you said to my brother, who stayed faithfully by your side for 22 years.” nailed Josephine. Eskel asked, confused
“22 years? Geralt talked about a bard but, it didn’t looked like he was the same one.
- Seriously, Geralt, 22 years, do they even know my name?
- Little bird, we’re sorry but he just talked about “a bard” .” Geralt was looking ashamed. Good.
“Well, let me introduce myself, then. Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, also known as Jaskier the Bard, Master of the Seven Liberal Arts.
- That’s impressive, Master Julian.
- Thank you, Master Vesemir.
- And he finished two years early, summa cum laude!
- Maybe not necessary to add this details, Josie.
- You should be proud of it!
- Then, people think I’m bragging. But, let’s talk about the contract. I don’t freaking know what’s in the wood. So, I’ll happily hire all of you. You’ll be housed and fed here, you’ll have access to our personal garden, where you can find most of the flora needed for your potions and, if not, the herbalist may have what you need. I’ll pay for it, of course. You can dine with us -that our preference- or can have your dinner wherever it please you. You’ll be paid 100 orens first, and 100 orens after the contract is done. We can renegotiate if the monster is worth more than 200 orens. I would like to formally invite you to the Flying Fires’ Festival. But I will understand if it’s too much for you.”
Most of them was happily surprised by the very generous contract but, if he really spend 22 years with Geralt, even on and off, he would know about the hard life they had. Vesemir happily accepted the contract and so did the others. They were even more happy than it was 100 orens each and not 100 orens for all of them, like they thought first.
They took the rest of the day to prepare and went to the forest that very night. It was a young leshen. Vesemir stayed on the side lines and watched his youngest pup and his friend fighting. They were a good team. And he told them just that. Just after berating them for their sloppy footwork. Aiden was asked if he would spend winter in Kaer Morhen. The bright smile the Cat gave him was an answer enough.
The day of the festival began bright and early. The Witchers spend the day recovering and the night meddling with the humans. Eskel was a hit with the fire-eaters. Vesemir used Aard to give the children’s kites a push. Geralt stayed near Cirilla, who had a blast with her new friend. Lambert and Aiden were the closest in age to the Pankratz’ siblings and stayed near them. Of course, the Viscount and both witchers hit it off, hooligans that they were.
During the fireworks, Vesemir came to talk to the young man.
“I know nothing can make it for the words of my pup but you’re a true friend of Witcher and if one day you want to come to the keep, please let me know, you’ll be more than welcome here.
- I thank you, Vesemir. Please, know that any Witcher will have a place to rest here, in Lettenhove.”
They both closed the conversation by looking at the sky. He may have lost Geralt to his insecurities but he may have gain a few more friends. And who knows? Maybe if he was in the sight of the grumpy white haired witcher, they could become friends this time...