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Ever since pretty boy pissed off his musical meal ticket, Wolves have been even LESS popular than they were right after the whole Blaviken shit. Lambert's smart enough to put two and two together and get four, so he hides his amulet and strings another piece of silver shiny on a chain. Something angular and intimidating enough to fool a dumb townie, if not another witcher.
But then, when would he be around another witcher long enough for them to look for his medallion? The ones who know him already know his school, and the ones that don't never want to get to know him.
And if he keeps his real medallion in a pocket against his skin, he can still feel it vibrate. Nothing to lose.
* * *
Aiden fucking hates his school. Not everyone - not Cedric or Axel, or Guxart, or a few others.
But most of them. The ones that kill for money, or greed, or just boredom. The ones who revel in Cat madness and advertise their cruelty as a feature of the Cats, not a bug.
And when he'd tried to speak out against this, last time he was at the caravan, Jad had all but killed him before he took his medallion and left him in the dirt.
He knows enough not to follow the caravan.
* * *
So the first time Lambert and Aiden meet - both trying to claim different bounties on the same ogre, of all things - neither has a medallion. Not that it matters, when you're trying to kill something without dying yourself, but still.
And honestly, they work pretty well together. Aiden calls it serendipity and Lambert calls him addle-brained, but. Neither has partnered that well with someone since they left their respective homes.
Maybe it's worth trying again. Just to see.
* * *
A second monster becomes a third, then a fifth. Somewhere around the tenth, Aiden motions to Lambert's chest.
"So what's with the fake?"
Lambert snorts. "Everyone I know is a fucking moron, dead, or both. I'm not gonna give them the satisfaction of following their fucking rules, but townies're more comfortable if a witcher looks like a witcher, so. Silver medallion."
"Huh. Makes sense." Aiden wonders if he was a Griffin. Lambert certainly seems like the type to rebel against their rules.
"And yours?"
Aiden carefully doesn't look to where his medallion once hung. "I couldn't master the 'essential skills' of my school. They called me a disappointment and kicked me out. Left me in the dirt and told me to go north."
Lambert grunts. Probably a Manticore, he thinks. His potions are bad enough. Lambert would know; he's met Leocadie. The man never tolerated a bad potion, and even Lambert's improvements were barely acceptable.
They drop the subject.