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It was midday when Ciri rode into Corvo Bianco on Kelpie. The sun was high. The fields were still plain as the spring plantings slowly began their climb. She could have teleported right to the gate, but why miss the chance to marvel at the countryside? Scares fewer workers this way too. Compared to the swamps of Velen, where she’d spent the last few months, Toussaint was a much welcome reprieve.
A stable boy ran up to her as soon as she reached the courtyard. One of Geralt’s first projects after his retirement was to have a proper stable built for Roach, Yennefer’s horse Monet, and Kelpie.
Ciri headed for the house to look for her parents. In the main room, she found BB looking over papers at the dining table. “Hello, BB.”
BB looked up with a start but quickly composed himself. “Hello, Lady Ciri. I beg your pardon, I wasn’t informed of your arrival.”
“No worries, BB,” she answered, hanging up her cloak. “I only just got here and I didn’t send word. Geralt and Yennefer don’t know I’m here either. Speaking of those two, where are they?”
“Lady Yennefer is resting in the master bedroom and Master Geralt is at the Belgaard Estate assisting with some last minute pest extermination. He said he did not expect to return until the evening.”
“Witcher turned exterminator, tsk tsk,” Ciri joked, “But, I imagine the pay’s better than what I got on the Path. More consistent too.”
“Perhaps.” the majordomo replied, “He has been vital in reducing the archespore and giant centipede populations in the region. Still a ways off from eradication, unfortunately.”
“No better witcher for it than him,” Ciri said, glancing at the papers on the table. She raised an eyebrow, “Planning more renovations?”
BB gathered the papers and shuffled them into a stack. “A project Lady Yennefer and I have been discussing, nothing in the works as of yet.”
Ciri tilted her head. “Alright then.”
The bedroom door opened. Ciri turned just as Yennefer tossed her arms around her. “Ciri! You’re home. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Ciri rested her head on Yennerfer’s shoulder and hugged back tightly. “What? I can’t stop by and surprise you every once in a while?”
Yennefer let go, running her hands down her daughter’s arms. “Only if you promise to do it more often. Oh, how I’ve missed you. Are you hurt?”
Ciri laughed as Yennefer gave her a quick look over. “I’m fine, I’m fine. No new scars to the collection either.”
Yennefer grinned. “A shame.”
“Very,” she smiled. “I came home because I wanted to. I missed you both.” After a moment she added, ”And I need to get new gloves from the grandmaster smith in Beauclaire.”
Yennefer laughed, “I should have expected as much. I need to do a few errands in Beauclaire myself. If you and Kelpie are not too tired from your journey, we could go now.”
The young woman shrugged, “Considering my ride lasted less than an hour, I imagine Kelpie still has plenty of energy to burn. Let’s go.”
—
The damage from the Vampiric Attack of 1275, as it was formally titled, could still be seen in Beauclaire. The cobblestone and brick bore damage from the flames, buildings had walls distinctly newer than the others, and the people walked with a manner that was more cautious. In a way, it remained Ciri a bit of Vizima when she visited after the war and the Nilfgaardian army left the empire’s newest vassel. The people of Beauclaire knew how quickly fire spread.
Though even with the scars, the city and its people were slowly returning to normalcy. A bard sang about rescuing a barber with a witcher, paperboys called out, and the town criers’ reports were mundane as people wandered between shops and cafes.
“The city’s repairs are coming along,” Ciri said.
“Her Grace has been rather generous with the treasury’s funds,” said Yennefer, then added with a glint in her eyes, “One might even call her compassionate.”
The pair entered the grandmaster smith's shop. The smither greeted them warmly, “Aw, Lady Yennefer, Lady Fiona, always nice to see you again. I have the blades Sir Geralt left to be sharpened all ready.”
“Excellent,” said Yennefer, “I’m actually here to see about getting Fiona some new gloves made.”
Ciri grabbed her arm and whispered, “I can afford my own gloves.”
Yennefer gave her a gentle smile, “I know, my beautiful swan, but I want to get my daughter a gift.”
Ciri relented, gave the smith the description of what she wanted, and Yennefer handed over the coin.
Leaving the shop, Yennefer pulled Ciri towards the lakefront. “Let’s get something to eat, why don’t we?” Ciri gladly let her lead her to the Pheasantry.
They sat outside, admiring the view of the lake. Ciri told Yennefer about one of her recent contracts, a foglet that’d taken up living in someone’s old store cellar.
A waitress walked up to their table and held up a bottle of wine, “Would you ladies can for a glass?”
Ciri gestured to her glass, “Sure, I’d love some.”
Yennefer, however, shook her head, “No, thank you. I will take some tea, if you’d be so kind.”
Ciri glanced at the retreating waitress, “You’ve been in Toussaint less than two years and have already grown tired of the wine?”
“I don’t want to be too predictable,” she responded, “Besides, I have a cellar full of wine barrels. If I want a drink, I can do so any time of day.”
After the meal, their last stop was to Hauteville Tailor’s shop.
The tailor, Pierre, was in the middle of pinning a garment when they entered. “Good afternoon, Lady Yennefer. Alaina has your order prepared. I can assure you, they all came out marvelously. Neither I nor my wife would ever provide you with less.”
He returned from his backroom with two packages wrapped in paper and tied with twine. A much smaller one set atop the larger, which, Ciri could guess, was some new dresses.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else. You two make quite the pair,” complimented Yennefer, handing over a coin purse.
Pierre gave a slight bow. “Please, return if you need any alterations at all. It would be a pleasure.”
“Of course, give Alaina my regards.” Yennefer picked up the packages and the pair headed out. The sun was starting to get low in the sky. It would be evening soon. Yennefer grabbed Ciri’s hand. “Come, Ciri, let’s go home.”
—
“…I only got my gloves back after one troll had chewed them up, spit them out, and declared them ‘bad not-food’,” explained Ciri, twirling her fork in the air for emphasis. “I managed to convince him then that all human food and ‘not-foods’ tasted bad so they let me leave with the cook willingly. The man was fine, all things considered.”
“What use could three trolls have for a cook?” asked Yennefer, leaning back comfortably in her chair. Dinner had long since ended, their dinner plates and silverware left on the table.
“Apparently, they wanted to be men and thought the cook could teach them how.”
“Any chance these trolls mentioned a cobbler?” asked Geralt.
Ciri took a swig of her wine. “I take it you met this particular group before?” Geralt grinned and hummed and that was the answer she needed. “I swear, I haven’t heard of anyone who finds trouble like you. I ran into Lambert in Kovir and know what contracts he’s taken? Normal ones.”
“A troll wouldn’t talk to Lambert long enough for him to learn anything. He’s too prickly even for them,” retorted Geralt, “Speaking of Lambert, how is he?” He had managed to exchange letters with Eskel twice, enough to know he was alive and north of Nilfgaard. Lambert, he hadn’t heard anything from since the Battle of Kaer Morhen. For as much as Geralt liked to irritate Lambert, he did view them both as his brothers. One of these days he’d figure out how to tell them about what he’d made for himself at Corvo Bianco and offer his home to them.
“Last I heard Keira still had him helping with her research,” said Yennefer.
“He’s still following her. For as much grief he gave you,” she gestured to Geralt, “about following Yennefer around, he’s even worse. They’re not even together, from what I can tell. I first found Lambert at a brothel.”
“That sounds like him,” said Geralt, “If he’s not at a pub, he’s at a brothel.”
Ciri grimaced. “As much as I enjoy discussing my uncle’s promiscuous activities, let’s change the subject, shall we? I’d like to hear what my favorite witcher-sorceress couple have been up to since I was last here. Has anything become of your experiments, Yennefer?”
Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other and smiled. “Actually, yes,” answered Yennefer, rising from her chair and heading into their bedroom.
“Your timing was impeccable, my swan, arriving today.” Yennefer returned from the bedroom with the small package she got at the tailor’s. “We have something to tell you.” She held out the package to Ciri.
Ciri furrowed her eyebrows and took it. She untied the twine and unfolded the crisp paper.
Her heart stopped at the sight. Laying there were several tiny dresses and a little bonnet. Beneath was a fine, soft pale yellow blanket far too small for an adult. Ciri touched the top dress, simplistic yet beautiful in style and made with white linen.
Ciri looked up at her parents, who beamed with joy. “Are you serious?” she asked, her smile widening.
Yennefer looked at her with teary eyes and nodded. She took Ciri’s hand and placed it on her stomach. Ciri’s breath caught in her throat. She tossed her arms around her mother’s neck and squealed.
Ciri let go only to pull Geralt in as well. She held her adoptive parents tight. “I’m so happy for you both.”
She finally let go and wiped away her tears. She laughed. “When did you find out?”
“A couple weeks after you left for the Path,” Geralt answered, putting his arm around Yennefer. Yennefer leaned against him.
“Does anyone else know?”
“No,” smiled Yennefer, “Not officially, but I imagine there are a few that suspect. We wanted you to be the first.”
Ciri leaned forward on the back of her chair. “This is wonderful, you’ll be amazing parents.”
“I hope so,” replied Geralt, a light blush on his face.
Ciri waved him off, “Don’t be humble, Geralt. I turned out pretty okay.”
Yennefer pulled Ciri towards, “You’re so much more than that, my daughter.” She kissed her forehead.
Ciri leaned in to her mother’s touch. “I guess I just have one more question?”
“Oh?” Yennefer brushed Ciri’s hair out of her eyes.
Ciri grinned widely, “Does this mean I'm going to have to share my room?”