Work Text:
Eskel scanned the notice board for any signs of a possible contract, finding nothing of note. Really, all there was were the usual notices. Lost cat, notices for the upcoming festival, military recruitment (faded and torn, it had been there a while), and marriage banns for a young couple due to be wed next week.
"Oh, Master Witcher!" a voice called out. "Just what I need!"
Eskel turned, confused by how cheery the voice sounded at finding a witcher. Generally, he found that most people didn't want to need a witcher.
The woman who'd called out to him was tiny and wrinkled, struggling to carry a basket of groceries, but smiling brightly.
"I could use someone of your stature," she informed him briskly. "Help me with this."
He found the basket in his hand before he could even process her words.
"No monsters around here for you to kill, I'm afraid, but we'll put those muscles to good use anyway."
Eskel had no idea what was happening.
"My son, the useless shit, went and broke his arm, and can't help me with my shopping," the old woman said, hobbling along while Eskel trailed after her helplessly. "Normally young Egbert would help me instead, but his father's having trouble with one of the horses, and Egbert's at the stables with him for the next few days."
Eskel nodded along to the rambling. He wasn’t really sure what else he could do. The woman spoke like a rolling boulder; with a momentum and force that threatened to flatten anyone foolish enough to stand in the path.
"Have you been by the bakery yet? If you've any plans to stay for the festival, you're best going to the bakery. Not the one by the temple, mind. Bunch of upstarts, them, thinking they're something special because they know how to bake those fancy Mettinan things. No, you'll want the bakers over near the East Walls. You'll not get an inn room now, but the bakers will set you up with a room."
Eskel blinked. That was a truly startling deluge of information, but the thought of burdening the locals when there was no need of a witcher went against every one of his instincts.
"I was only passing through," he told her. "Don't want to bother anyone if I'm not needed here."
The old woman scoffed. "Handsome lad like you? You should be having fun at festivals, not just running around in the muck chasing after monsters."
Eskel had no idea how she'd managed to catch on that he was a witcher, with eyesight as bad as hers, if she'd managed to miss his scars.
"Besides, there's a couple local girls could use a tumble with someone who knows what they're doing," the woman continued derisively. "Half the men in this town are fucking useless, and I'll tell you now that they'll not be any better in bed."
Well. Eskel could appreciate how frank she was, at least, even if she was suggesting he stay in town specifically for the purpose of bedding some of the locals at the festival.
"Whatever the case, stop by the bakery anyway. Brand's cakes are fantastic," the woman informed him.
They made it to a little house near the walls, and the old woman opened the door, waving Eskel in so that he could set the basket in the kitchen for her.
"Thank you, dear," she said, smiling brightly. "Here, I made some pies this morning. Help yourself to one."
Eskel was out the door with a small meat pie in hand before he could protest. He’d never even gotten her name.
The pie was filling, for all its small size, and Eskel was grateful for the free lunch. Carrying an old woman's groceries was hardly the most strenuous thing he'd done for a meal, and the coin he'd saved meant there was no reason for him not to stop by the bakery. She’d been so set on him trying the cakes.
Granted, the coin would probably be better spent on something like herbs, or food for his travels, but his curiosity had been piqued by the woman's insistence that he visit the bakery.
The rest of the town seemed to be in high spirits equal to the old woman's, the festival atmosphere permeating the air in spite of the fact that the celebrations would not begin for another three days. Still, people seemed jovial. Friendly, even, giving Eskel smiles and warm greetings. He even overheard a young girl excitedly pointing him out to her mother. Excitedly. As though the presence of a witcher was considered a happy occurrence.
Eskel was thoroughly bewildered by the time he found the bakery.
It was clearly a thriving business, given the size of the shop, and the scents wafting out into the street were mouthwatering. Eskel was glad to have chosen to follow the old woman's advice.
Inside, a young woman was arranging freshly baked loaves, while the young man at the counter spoke with a patron. To Eskel’s eye, they seemed to be flirting, and the young woman appeared to agree, if her eye-rolling at the pair was any indication.
"Oh, welcome Master Witcher," she called out, spotting him as he stepped through the door. "What can I get for you?"
The pair at the counter blushed bright red upon hearing her speak, and the patron gathered her purchases and scurried for the door.
Eskel stepped out of her way and browsed the many delicious offerings on display. It would be difficult to choose from them all.
"Welcome, Witcher," the young man behind the counter greeted. "In town for the festival? Suppose you'll have been sent our way for a room."
Eskel shook his head. "Just passing through. If the inns are full, I'll not stay."
The young man shrugged. "Suit yourself. Shame for you to miss out on the festival."
"You'll at least stay the night though, yes?" the young woman prodded. She bore a striking resemblance to the man, though seemed to be a couple of years older.
"Maja!" the young man hissed. "Don't be pushy."
She waved him off. "You know Artur will be upset if he finds out a witcher came through and he didn't get a chance to talk to him. Besides, Daria has that theory about drowners she wanted to ask about."
Eskel truly had no idea what was going on in this town.
Eskel was frankly intimidated by how quickly the young woman started pulling aside cakes and breads for him. All little things, nothing fancy or particularly expensive, but still much more than he had planned on buying.
"Here, try these," Maja said, sliding one of the cakes toward him. "They keep well on the road, and are pretty filling. Perfect for a witcher. If you stay for dinner and indulge my sister's questions, I'll give you this lot for free."
"You're very kind," Eskel said, ducking his head down. He wasn’t sure why she was being so kind to him.
"Really, Maja? You're extorting the man?" her brother huffed. "You'd have given it to him either way." He turned to Eskel, shaking his head. "We like to look after witchers around here. Our oldest brother was taken to be a witcher, and we'd like to think there's people out there who'll be kind to him."
Eskel’s heart clenched. Their brother was almost certainly dead, possibly before he ever made it to the Path. But for them to have remembered him so fondly, and to pass that fondness along to any witchers who crossed their path, instead of becoming bitter and angry at witchers, was a beautiful thing.
"Thank you," he said, voice quiet. He had no idea what else he could say to express his gratitude.
Maja instructed him to return at the end of the day so that they could bring him to their home for dinner, and he was sent off to pass the time in town.
He returned with Scorpion in time for the siblings to lock up the shop and pass off the leftovers to the small group of people waiting. A parcel each going to the temple, and to the orphanage.
The road to Maja and Brand's home was peaceful, trailing out of the town and through a small section of woods.
The siblings were chatty, and asked questions about his travels. It was nice, to be able to talk to someone who could answer back for the first time in months.
Their house was large, and Eskel could tell even as they approached it that it was very full. The sounds of several children laughing and playing, and more than one person trying to corral them.
It was hard to keep up with all the many names being thrown his way when he was introduced, but Eskel tried to keep them all straight. He'd certainly never be able to recall which of the children belonged to which sibling.
"Your medallion is a wolf!" one of the little girls exclaimed, pointing up at him with a huge grin. Eskel thought her name might be Hanna.
"Just like Uncle Lambert!" one of the older children - Artur - added.
Eskel froze. Lambert? It... it couldn't be a coincidence. A family member taken to be a witcher, and an uncle who wore a wolf medallion.
"Your brother's name is Lambert?" he asked, turning to Maja.
"You know him?" Maja asked, perking up at the implied link. "He doesn't really talk much about the other witchers he knows."
"He visits you?"
A witcher with a family... It seemed ludicrous. No witcher could return to the life they'd been taken from. But Lambert hated being a witcher... Did he hate it enough to abandon the Path? Could a witcher be tolerated living in a single town for so long?
But then, Lambert clearly could not have abandoned the Path. He was not here, and he returned to Kaer Morhen every winter with new stories and scars.
"He visits every spring and every winter," Maja's older brother, Leon, explained. "He tries to be here for Savoine each year, and sometimes stays over winter if he arrives late."
It was heartening to know that, in the years Lambert hadn't been able to make it to Kaer Morhen, he was still safe.
"Lambert is one of the last of the School of the Wolf," Eskel said. "He is... a brother to me."
It seemed ridiculous, to claim such a thing to people who shared blood with Lambert, but Eskel felt a great deal of affection for Lambert. He considered the younger witcher his brother.
"Then you're basically family, right?" Artur asked, looking to Leon. Eskel was fairly sure Leon was the boy's father.
"Of course he's family," Mara, the family's matriarch declared, patting Eskel’s hand. "Now, go get washed up for dinner."
She shooed the children off to wash their hands, and had the younger of the adults set the table, while Leon showed Eskel to the spare room in the attic where he could set down his bags and set aside his swords and gambeson.
It was clear that this room was the one Lambert used while he was here, set out similarly to his room in Kaer Morhen. It made Eskel smile to know that his brother was so predictable, and kept him from dwelling too long on the ache in his chest at the easy acceptance he'd found here.
He stayed for the festival, lending his strength to setting up the square and moving massive barrels of beer and wine. The townsfolk cheerfully laughed and chatted with him, treating him like one of their own.
Lambert’s siblings were more than happy to let the children pile onto him, glad for the chance to be free of their incessant questions for an hour or two.
Eskel had never been so trusted by anyone who wasn't a Wolf.
"Dance with me?" Adela, Lambert’s older sister, asked.
The festival was in full swing, and the bards were playing a lively tune. Eskel obliged, leading her into the fray.
"Thank you, for staying," she said, smiling softly. "We've always... worried, about Lambert. He doesn't talk much about what happened in his training, or about any of the rest of you," she explained.
Eskel wasn't surprised to hear it. Lambert didn't like to talk about things that made him feel vulnerable. It was why he wasn't offended that Lambert had never spoken of his family.
"I think..." Adela continued, "I think we have all worried that he spends his winters alone, or with people who don't care about him."
Eskel would never be able to express his appreciation for the love they showed their brother. The devotion that led them to give gifts to strangers, and to invite witchers into their home. Until arriving in town, Eskel had thought there could never be a witcher with a family that still loved them, and loved them as a witcher. He'd never expected to find such kindness, but knowing that it existed, there was nobody Eskel could think of that deserved it more than Lambert.
"Thank you," he said. "For keeping him. He's a good man. I'm glad he still has you all."
Adela beamed, and surged up to plant a kiss on his cheek. The gentle touch of her lips against his scars made his heart stutter.
"You're a good man too," she told him. "A good brother. We're happy to have you as part of our family."