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Jaskier always knew he was destined to be a side character. He would only sing of glory– he’d never be the hero the story was about. He was okay with that for the most part. Being on the sidelines meant he’d be safer, probably. At least, he would have been if he didn’t yearn for more.
Case in point, he followed a random witcher on their latest contract.
The town was some shithole in Temeria full of farmers and one spiteful donkey that kicked Jaskier when he passed by. The owners didn’t even apologize or offer him a hand up. He should have known then that something deeply unsettling was going on in the town thanks to that incident. However, Jaskier was quite naive– or perhaps he chose to look at things on the bright side.
Jaskier and Geralt split up for the winter, as per usual. It left Jaskier to travel alone. He went to Oxenfurt for the winter, but with most of the snow melted away with spring unleashed, he craved adventure once more. He even packed himself a nice, thick cloak just in case there was a snowfall. His boots, however, stayed the same and were as impractical as Geralt made them out to be.
The contract was up in the air. Jaskier had just settled into the inn when the townspeople talked about the monster looming in the forest. Jaskier had an ale in hand, with food promised later once he sang a few songs, but he got sidetracked by the whispers of a witcher.
He listened to the townspeople talk about the witcher. They described the man to have brown hair, so it definitely wasn’t Geralt. When the townspeople started to cackle about how the monster would surely be happy with a sacrifice walking right up to it, Jaskier became increasingly grateful that it was not Geralt.
Jaskier feigned exhaustion even as his stomach grumbled in protest. He went to his room in the inn, a thin little thing with a bed that looked just as lumpy as the bedroll he carried. He thought about just going to sleep. He didn’t owe anyone anything. He could get some good rest, wake the next morning, and continue on through the continent.
It seemed, though, that Jaskier had a moral code. He couldn't believe himself as he trudged on his cloak and left the inn. He saw a muddy path of footsteps that could only be from someone with actual treaded boots, so it wasn’t the townspeople. They were poor as shit and probably wouldn’t be able to pay whatever false contract they put up. The town seemed cut off from the outside world compared to other towns Jaskier had traveled through.
An hour later, Jaskier stumbled upon a horse. The horse was a real beauty, nothing like the majestic Roach but great in their own right. Jaskier ruffled through the saddlebag and found the witcher’s potions. It was confirmed, now, that the witcher was out there. He brushed through the horse’s mane as he peered into the darkness. He should be grateful, after all the moon was bright enough that he could at least look around a little bit and not be completely unaware of what was in the forest.
Jaskier considered leaving the horse alone. The horse seemed frightened, so Jaskier took the reins. “Come on,” he whispered, nudging the horse along. The horse stepped forward. He didn’t seem happy about it one bit, and Jaskier couldn’t blame him. He hummed quietly under his breath– enough to soothe himself but hopefully quiet enough that the contracted monster wouldn’t hear it.
Eventually, he was wandering aimlessly. Jaskier let the horse lead him about the forest. The horse seemed to have more of an idea about what was going on, at least. Jaskier followed along, his ears stretched as far as they could go as he attempted to listen for a fight. The night grew on, the moon waning as the morning slowly crept upon them.
The forest was quite larger than he initially estimated. He was hours away from the town by now, and he might have just stolen a witcher’s horse while trying to be helpful. Thoughts of a witcher bleeding out because he stole their potions filtered into his mind, but he kept steady. He walked alongside the horse with a determination to find the monster the townspeople whispered of.
Jaskier got his wish a few minutes later. He first realized something was off when the horse stilled, their ears sharp. Jaskier followed the horse’s actions of listening. He was brought upon a very, very fuzzy screech. It sounded off in the distance, but it seemed incredibly loud. He looked at the horse, the horse looked back. They seemed to come to a silent agreement.
Jaskier climbed onto the horse and they took off without another word. Jaskier almost got hit off by a cruddy tree branch, but the small scrape was nothing compared to what he’s seen from Geralt’s run-ins. Jaskier calmed down his breathing as he felt the horse slow. The sight upon them was quite strange.
It seemed the screech they heard earlier was from the witcher. The tall man was surrounded by the townspeople. Jaskier couldn’t believe his eyes. The witcher appeared frightened of the simple humans that didn’t have any weapons in sight. And then Jaskier caught sight of what the humans were guiding the witcher to.
The pit looked like an oil spill mixed with tar. It was almost pretty, aside from the arm that came roaring out of it a split moment later. The arm looked as if it was covered in scales, like a severely overgrown lizard, but there were no claws. Jaskier couldn’t think further than that as he tapped the horse’s back, sending them forward like a bullet.
The townspeople yelled and groaned at the sight of Jaskier on the horse. The horse had courage, Jaskier could tell you that. They plowed on through even when the townspeople started to get angry and throw their hands. Jaskier gracefully slipped down the horse, meaning he fell off when he attempted to get down.
“My dear Witcher, what the hell is that?” he demanded with his finger pointed at the tar-pit monster. Jaskier then gestured to the surrounding townspeople. “And what is wrong with them?”
The witcher turned to Jaskier with a surprised look. Jaskier wondered if the man was older than Geralt because of the large scar across his face. He then wondered if he knew Geralt because they wore matching wolf medallions. Jaskier ducked from the large hand that was grabbing around them, incredibly glad that it had poor aim.
The witcher simply replied, “No idea what’s up with the hand thing–” he stared at the tar-pit, “–but the townspeople are definitely affected by it. I am too. Are you?”
“What? No.” Jaskier pretended his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest. “Are you okay? What did it do to you?”
“My senses– they’re off.” The witcher pushed one of the townspeople from hitting Jaskier over the head with a rock. Jaskier muttered a quick, shocked thanks. “We need to get out of here.”
An instant later Jaskier found himself being pulled. The kind witcher climbed onto his horse, then lugged up Jaskier. Without further warning, the horse took off into the night as shouts and screams followed. Jaskier looked back but soon they were too far off. He couldn’t see anything but the blurred scenery.
They eventually slowed to a trot. The witcher patted his horse lovingly as they returned slowly to the town. It would be a long night, even with riding a horse.
The witcher casually brought up, “You’re an outsider, I suppose.”
“Just passing through,” confirmed Jaskier. He tried to relax against the chest of the stranger witcher but couldn’t. He didn’t expect to be hungry and up all night. “I heard them talking about the contract. Went to warn you but I couldn’t find anything but your horse.”
“Scorpion got you there in time,” replied the witcher. Jaskier was amazed the man actually responded in full sentences. It took months before Geralt did. “Did you leave your belongings in town?”
“Yep. Didn’t think to take them with me into the woods where a monster wanting a sacrifice was waiting.”
“A sacrifice?”
“Yeah,” nodded Jaskier. “They said that a witcher walking in would be a good sacrifice or something like that.” After a beat, he added, “Not ominous at all, is it?”
The witcher gave a light chuckle. It was music to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt barely ever laughed, as if it was a crime. It was nice to know that not all witchers were the same. He hummed quietly – almost silently – as they continued the long ride to the town.
The town didn’t look any better when they reached it to find it alight by the rising sun. Jaskier hopped off, to only fall down, but was caught by the kind witcher. Jaskier stood up with a grin as wide as it could be. “I’m Jaskier, by the way, my good sir.”
“Eskel,” replied the witcher. He then climbed off as well but was much more graceful. They left Scorpion to go into the inn together, as if there was a bond that they didn’t want to be alone. “A lute?” he questioned once they got to Jaskier’s room.
Jaskier hummed his response. He picked up his bag and his lute. He turned around and said, “Bard, you know.”
“A bard?” echoed Eskel. They walked out of the inn. He watched as Jaskier disappeared. A few moments later, the bard returned with a sack of coins. “Jaskier,” he said in a disapproving voice.
“Your payment, dear Witcher.”
Jaskier plopped the sack into Eskel’s hands. Eskel shook his head as they trotted back to Scorpion. “They’re going to be pissed when they return.”
“You deserve it for almost being a sacrifice,” decided Jaskier. He walked alongside Scorpion as they exited the town. “Are you off to anywhere special?”
“This was my first contract of the year. They were supposed to pay well, so the ride was to be worth it.”
“Perhaps it was,” said Jaskier, putting on all of his charm. “You met me, after all. You would have hated to not meet me, I assure you. I am loved and respected greatly. Ask anyone.”
“I’ll go ask the townspeople a ways back–”
“They are not astute people, my dear. They wouldn’t know greatness if it hit them in the face.” Jaskier beamed up to the witcher on the horse. “Do you know of any other contracts around?”
“No, but there’s a town that I passed through earlier that had a board. I didn’t look – quite a bad moment for me – but they’ll have something. After winter, everywhere is crawling with monsters.”
“So we’ll ignore the cult-sacrifice-thing, then?”
Eskel answered promptly, “Yes.”
Jaskier gasped dramatically. “Whatever will they do, I wonder?” A bit more seriously, he added, “You heard their screams, correct?”
Eskel peered down to the bard. After a moment of contemplation, he answered, “I did.”
“They’re dead, aren’t they? Eaten or– or killed by the beast they were trying to sacrifice you to.”
“Some of them ran away. I don’t know how far they got.”
Jaskier processed that. He heard the screams that followed after they left on Scorpion. He assumed most of it was out of outrage, but of course the monster would be angry too. Whether that was because the monster was hungry or simply a rude being, it didn’t matter much. He supposed it was ironic that they were killed by a monster they had others killed by, but they all seemed to be under a spell of some sort.
He looked down to his lute, then up to Eskel. It was a nice meeting, he thought. Jaskier didn’t get to travel with many people other than Geralt. Essi and Priscilla mainly stayed in Oxenfurt and didn’t stray far unless they had an escort to a court full of nobles. Jaskier felt himself grin. He wouldn’t be traveling with the man, but he definitely wouldn’t forget Eskel. He took his lute out of its case and slang the case along his back so he could hold his lute.
Jaskier said, “I wish you well then, dear. I’m afraid we’re a bit too close to Cintra for my liking, so I must leave. However, if you hear of a wondrously handsome bard around, visit me!”
He strummed his lute as he began to go the other way. He only made it a few feet when something hit him. He turned around to find a small sack of coins. He snatched it up in surprise.
“For finding me, bard,” reasoned Eskel. He then brushed Scorpion’s mane before they took off.
Jaskier stood there, watching as the witcher disappeared. The dot got smaller and smaller. He sighed as he turned to his own road. He strummed the strings of his lute once more. He wished he could have followed Eskel, but the Cintra border was far too close for comfort.