They reached Brenna on Sunday.

It was nice to find actual civilization after so long on the road, and Jaskier relished the thought of a nice warm bath and a mattress stuffed with down rather than straw. Even a relatively small village like Brenna would surely have such amenities. And they'd have the money for it, too, since Geralt had informed him there was a job there.

He hadn't told him much else, but the prospect of playing in an inn for a few nights while Geralt went out sounded nice. Jaskier could use some days off his feet, and they could both use the money. Food and beds were expensive when there weren't jobs to replenish their coin purses.

But food, beds, and a job were available at The Meddler's Cup. A hanging wooden sign covered in fading paint announced that they had arrived at their destination, and Geralt swung off of Roach and tied her reins to a post. "I'll check to make sure they've a place for us," he muttered, and Jaskier nodded. He had no problems staying with Roach and their bags for a moment.

As Geralt went inside, Jaskier took stock of the town. 'Village' was probably a more appropriate term—he doubted much more than a couple hundred people lived there. A thousand, if he was being generous. The streets were narrow, not built for large crowds, and the inn he was standing in front of probably didn't have more than ten rooms at most.

Yet even taking into account the small size, Jaskier would have expected at least a few people to be milling about. The cobblestone roads were completely empty, save a single market stall selling fresh fruit. Everyone else seemed to be staying indoors, though Jaskier could still see glimpses of their wan faces through the windows. They looked apprehensive. Jaskier wondered if their fear stemmed from the monster Geralt was in town to kill, and the anxiety was beginning to rub off on him. Should he even be outside right now?

Something tapped Jaskier on the shoulder and he jumped, turning only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realized it was just Geralt. "Do we have a room?" he asked, and Geralt grunted in affirmation.

They secured Roach in the stables and went inside. Geralt brought their stuff up to their room while Jaskier approached the innkeeper, who was in the middle of drying off some earthenware mugs. He gave him a wide smile. "Hello," he said, leaning onto the bar. "Would you like some live music for the evening?"

The innkeeper's dull expression didn't change. "No."

"Are you sure?" Jaskier asked. "It's a blast, really. Might help you cheer up your customers." He gestured behind him to the room, full of a dozen or so listless patrons.

"We don't need cheering up, and we don't need your type here either, bard." The last word was said with a pejorative bite. Clearly the innkeeper wasn't a fan of music.

"Excuse you," Jaskier replied indignantly. "I am Jaskier, companion of the White Wolf. We are welcome company everywhere we stay, or at least we should be, considering he's here to take care of your problem."

As soon as Geralt was mentioned the innkeeper's entire demeanor changed. "Oh! I do apologize for the lackluster welcome, Jaskier," he said, suddenly smiling brightly. "I'm Mikhail, and I'm in charge of this little place. Make yourself at home. Feel free to play anything you'd like."

"Perfect," Jaskier said. "Thank you. And—" he paused, "do you think I could get a stein of ale to go with my performance?"

"Not for free," Mikhail said. "Two silver for a mug, just like anyone else."

Jaskier grimaced. Even with them getting paid for this job, he wasn't sure his finances could take that hit right now. There was always the risk of Geralt not being able to complete what was asked or getting run out of town, and he really couldn't be spending his last bit of money on alcohol.

So instead of relaxing with a nice drink, he headed over to a corner of the inn's main room and sat down with his lute. The patrons hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, and they looked just as down and dejected as Mikhail had been when Jaskier walked in. He didn't mind, though. He had a couple songs he could use to cheer them up and get them into a more paying mood.

One, about a particularly savvy redhead from Burdorff, was always a crowd-pleaser. He started into it, and slowly the mood in the room began to lighten. Jaskier finished the song and took a quick break. Something moved near the back wall, and he realized that it was Geralt, returning from their room.

Jaskier waited for a few moments to see if Geralt was coming over to him, but the witcher just walked over to the innkeeper and exchanged a few words with him. The pair headed over to a table at a corner far away from Jaskier and the other patrons, and he got the sense it was on purpose. Well, if Geralt wanted him to distract the ordinary citizens so that he could talk business, Jaskier was all too happy to help. He struck up another song.

Geralt and Mikhail finished talking eventually. Jaskier watched them from his spot as Geralt stood up, pushed his stool in, and shook the innkeeper's hand. There didn't appear to be any money exchanged, but they seemed to have a sort of deal arranged. Geralt headed over to Jaskier, and he quickly finished the song he was playing.

"So, what's the monster haunting this village?" Jaskier asked.

"People going missing over the past year. Thought it was nothing more than folks getting lost or the occasional bear, but a hunter found a pile of bodies in the forest last week and now they're scared."

"So they don't even know what it is? Do you have an idea?"

Geralt shook his head. "There's a few things that can do something like this. I'll need to see the bodies first thing tomorrow."

"Okay," Jaskier replied. "Be safe. And prepared for anything."

Geralt raised his eyebrows. "What, are you worried about me?"

"Hardly. I'm just down to my last meal, and I don't get paid if you're dead."

"Right." Geralt turned away. "In that case, I'm off to bed. Feel free to come up whenever you're done singing and whoring."

Jaskier laughed and watched him go. Singing, he would do, but he didn't plan on much whoring in this town. Everyone was too depressed, too scared of whatever monster was attacking them to really be searching for a bedmate.

That wasn't to say Jaskier would turn someone down if they came calling. Especially not someone like the fair-haired stranger who sat down at a table close by as he started on his next tune. The man had dark green eyes that reminded Jaskier of a summer forest, and a jawline strong enough to sharpen his blade on. A warm tan complemented his wavy golden locks, and light stubble decorated his cheeks. He didn't look to be quite as upset as the rest of the town, a delicate smile dancing on his cerise lips. Plus, his outfit was well-tailored and made of a fabric that looked more expensive and well-off than the garb of the rest of the inn.

Jaskier was smitten at first glance.

He ran through a few more songs, but it was getting late, and all-too-soon he began to pack up his lute. The stranger took this opportunity to approach him, and Jaskier tried to pretend he hadn't been hoping he'd do that for the past hour. "Hey," he said, as casually as he could muster.

"Jaskier, right?" the stranger asked, extending his hand.

Jaskier took it. It was warm and soft. "Yes," he breathed. "That's me."

The man laughed lightly. "Well," he said. "I'm Nikolai of Dorian, but you can call me Nik."

"Nik. It's nice to make your acquaintance." He meant it. Jaskier was very much pleased to meet him.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine!" Nik replied. "I mean, you're famous. I'm just a tailor from nowhere making shirts for ordinary people, and you're… you're a star. Quite frankly, I'm flattered you'd even talk to a guy like me."

So he was a tailor. That explained the nice clothes. "Of course I would talk to you," Jaskier said as he finished putting his lute back in its case. He stood up and walked over to the table where Nik had been watching him from, inviting him to sit down and chat. "I like talking to people."

Nik happily accepted. "You seem pretty down-to-Earth for a celebrity."

Jaskier shrugged and tried not to blush. "I am only a humble bard, I guess."

"Can I get you a drink?" Nik asked suddenly. "I mean, if you want. You just seem like someone I'd want to get to know."

Jaskier certainly wasn't going to turn that down. Nik paid for two mugs of ale, and within a few minutes they were set down in front of them. "Thanks," Jaskier said, and took a sip. It was delicious. Maybe because he hadn't had any alcohol in nearly two weeks while on the road, maybe because it was free, or maybe because an absolutely gorgeous man had ordered it for him, but it tasted as sweet as any pastry one could get in the best bakeries in the kingdom.

And then it was gone, the last drop drained from both his and Nik's cups. Nik stood up and stretched, before turning to Jaskier and grinning. There was a look in his eyes, and Jaskier desperately hoped he would invite him back to his place for the night, but Nik merely winked and tossed him a few gold coins. "For the songs," he said. He pulled his cloak on. "See you around."

He was gone, slipping away into the night. Jaskier tried not to think about how he may never see him again, but the thought kept creeping back in. And since he couldn't afford more ale to push it out for good, the next best thing would be to go to bed.

So he did.

When he awoke the next morning, Geralt was already gone. Jaskier noticed the absence of his armor and weapons, so he was probably checking out the gravesite and preparing to take on whatever was attacking the town.

Jaskier had no such responsibilities, though.

He laid back in bed and stretched his arms out. He didn't have to get up for several hours still—or at all, really—and he was going to make full use of this work-free time to relax and maybe think on a new chord progression.

His stomach made him get up in the end. He realized he hadn't actually eaten since a quick lunch while on the road the day before, and grumbled as he got dressed. Stupid hunger making him spend money and all.

Jaskier ambled down the stairs to the ground floor and stopped in his tracks. There, sitting at a table in front of him like a mirage, was Nik.

He ran over to see him. "Nik," Jaskier said, unable to suppress the delight in his voice. "Funny to see you again!"

"I often get breakfast here," Nik replied, scooting over on his bench to make room for Jaskier to sit next to him. "It's good. What are you doing, though?"

"I'm staying upstairs."

"Ah."

A few moments later, the innkeeper strolled over. "Ordering anything?"

Jaskier looked at Nik. "What do you suggest?"

"The—you know what? I'll pay for it. Mikhail, get this man another porridge, on me."

Mikhail took his money and disappeared into the kitchen, returning about five minutes later with a bowl identical to the one Nik had. Jaskier tried it. It tasted surprisingly good for a small town inn's porridge, though he supposed that's why Nik frequented this place for breakfast.

"So," Nik said after a bit. "What are you doing in town?"

Jaskier hesitated. It wasn't always the best idea to share his purposes with random strangers, but Nik didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like he could trust him, as if he'd known him for years. "I'm here with Geralt—the White Wolf? He heard there's something killing townspeople, and he's been hired to deal with it."

"Ah." Nik gave him a knowing nod. "The Blight of Brenna. It's a sad state of affairs we've got here."

Jaskier took another bite of porridge. "Do you know much about it?"

"Of course I do. I'm living through it. Why, did your witcher not tell you the full story?" Jaskier shook his head, and Nik continued. "It's taking young men. All the best workers on the farms, you know? We lost our blacksmith's apprentice last time. He was a nice lad, maybe 25, with a face like a painting and an ass to match. And then one day he was missing, and we all just… knew." His voice broke slightly on that last word.

He took a deep breath and composed himself. "But Geralt is here now, right? So we'll be safe. Finally. Do you think he'll be able to kill it?"

"Geralt can take care of anything."

Nik smiled. "Good." He returned to his meal.

By the time Geralt showed up, Nik had finished his breakfast and left. Jaskier was alone at the table with a mostly-empty plate, waiting on his return.

Despite the empty chairs around Jaskier, Geralt didn't sit down. "Get your things," he said in his usual gruff tone.

"Okay…" Jaskier replied, reluctantly standing up. "Did you kill the monster and get our money?"

"Our money?" Geralt said. "You make your money by playing. This is my money."

"Fine," Jaskier conceded. "Your money. Did you get it?"

"No."

Jaskier stared at him. "Why the fuck not?"

"Didn't solve the problem."

"I repeat my question."

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest. "No monster. It's a human."

Jaskier almost had to take a step back. "It's a human? You're certain?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Jaskier said, sucking on his teeth. "So you're just going to leave the poor people of Brenna to slowly get murdered by some serial killer, then?"

"Not my problem."

"You're getting paid to take care of a monster. Humans can be monsters, too, as I know you're well aware." Geralt didn't reply, so Jaskier walked over to him and grabbed his arm. "Come on, Geralt. We can't leave them to die like that. This guy in town, he's a tailor, he's also really hot but that's not the point, he told me how they live in fear now. How they're running out of people to work the fields, how mothers keep their children indoors." He was embellishing Nik's words slightly, but Geralt needed to understand what he was doing by abandoning them. "Please," Jaskier finished. "They need you."

Geralt shook his arm away. "I'm not going to waste my time tracking down a human serial killer, Jaskier. It's too dangerous. Now pack your things; we're leaving."

"How the fuck is it dangerous? You regularly deal with things way more perilous than some random human. You aren't in any danger."

All he got in response was a grunt. Jaskier bit his lip and dug his heels into the wooden floor. "Geralt. They can't do this on their own."

Geralt closed his eyes for a second, then sighed deeply and opened them. "Fine." He set down the pack he was carrying and called the innkeeper over to order some lunch. He didn't seem pleased to be staying, but he was resigned to it.

Jaskier had to suppress a small smile. He'd convinced Geralt to stay. If Geralt was able to find out who was doing it, he'd be responsible for saving untold lives.

Plus, staying in town meant staying with Nik.

He was pretty pleased about that, too.