Stepping through the portal on the outskirts of Lettenhove Geralt took a moment to survey the surroundings. Yennefer had brought them to a lightly treed area, which boarded onto some farmland. In the distance, Geralt could see the wall surrounding the town, and the tops of the buildings of Lettenhove itself.

The farm's fields were bare, covered with a light dusting of snow, the harvest long since brought in and stored for the coming winter, although Geralt knew that the winters here on the coast were not nearly as severe as the ones in the mountains. In the distance, Geralt could hear the flowing of a river and, recalling his geography lessons, he recalled that a river ran through Lettenhove just before in flowed into the ocean, although the river in question was not a particularly long or significant river, not wide or deep enough to allow anything larger than a small boat passage.

Beside him, Geralt knew that Eskel and Yennefer were doing their own study of the town.

Thanks to Yennefer's insistence, it was still early, although Geralt had found himself unable to sleep the previous night, constantly thinking about what he would say to Jaskier's family…or rather, what he should say, compared with what he would very much like to say.

"Come on," this could take all day." Yennefer broke her silence, and the three of them made their way out into the open. They made for a road that cut through the farmland. The road was muddy from the half-melted snow, with deep wheel ruts made during the harvest.

None of them spoke as they walked towards the walled town, the road deserted, save for the three of them at first, but as they approached, and the day progressed, they spotted more people. Farmers out feeding their livestock in the fields, merchants and peddlers. They received curious looks, but, as was normal for Geralt and Eskel, people gave them a wide berth. The people seemed too busy with their own work to pay them much attention, and Geralt noticed the thin look to most of the population. The clothes of the common folk seemed thin, especially given the approaching winter, and many of them seemed close to impoverished, with thin, drawn face and haggard, defeated expressions.

It did not take long for them to reach the town wall, and they passed beneath the stone archway without question. Inside the wall it was busy, with narrow, crowded streets and houses the seemed to loom over the streets.

With the experience of many, many years locating and visiting the homes of nobles, they worked their way uphill until they reached the large, stately looking mansion that rested on a hill at the centre of Lettenhove. It was grand, with sprawling gardens, and an imposing presence over the town.

Guards patrolled the gate, and Yennefor stepped forward before either of the Witchers could open their mouths.

"We are here to see the Earl and the Dowager Countess."

"On what business?" one of the guards, probably the commanding office, going from his uniform, replied, eyeling Geralt and Eskel warily

"Our business is of no concern to you." Yennefer spat in reply, "we do not have time to dally with the likes of you." As she speaks her eyes seem to glow, and the guard gets the gist that none of them are to be trifled with. Without another protest they were escorted into a courtyard, and then into the mansion itself.

The mansion was lavishly decorated, which Geralt wasn't surprised by, although it painted a stark contrast from the remainder of the town and it's people. The walls were decorated with sculptures, paintings and tapestries that wouldn't have looked out of place at Calanthe's court in Cintra before it fell, although Calanthe wasn't known for flaunting her wealth and prosperity quite like this.

Eventually, they reached a double doorway, with guards posted at the doors, and they were ushered through. The great hall was smaller than the one in Cintra, but it was decorated in the same way as the hallway had been. Yennefer, despite having not taken a particular effort to dress up for the occasion, swept into the room as if she owned it, and, exchanging a single look, Eskel and Geralt flanked her, presenting the suggestion that they were her own guards or protectors. It reminded Geralt more than a little of Borch, and of Téa and Véa, although he didn't say anything about it.

At the opposite end of the hall to the door, upon a dais, was a pair of thrones, wooden, but heavily cushioned. To the sides of the thrones was some more chairs, three on each side, still on the dais, but set back further than the thrones, and less elaborate.

On the thrones were a man and a woman, presumably Jaskier's brother, the Earl Bazyli, and his wife. Jaskier had the same blue eyes as the man in the chair, although the man in the chair certainly looked older than Jaskier…about fifty summers, if Geralt had to guess, which made sense. The Earl was a large man, both in height, and in girth, and his hair and beard were heavily tinged with grey.

His wife was younger, even younger than Jaskier. Maybe in her mid-thirties, but certainly no older. Her hair was copper coloured, and she was sitting on the edge of her chair, looking very much like she wanted to be somewhere else.

On one of the additional chairs on the countess' side of the dais was a young man, again with the same blue eyes as Jaskier, maybe about twenty years old. Geralt guessed that he was the son of the Earl, although he doubted that the countess was old enough to have a son that old.

To the side of the Earl sat an elderly woman, again with the same blue eyes that Jaskier carried. Although her hair had long since gone white, Geralt knew from the resemblance alone that this had to be Jaskier's mother. Age, however, had taken it's toll on the dowager countess. Her lips were thin, and her face heavily lined with wrinkles, which she'd tried to disguise with makeup. The make up only served to make her look too pale. Geralt had seen corpses that looked more likely.

On the chair beside the dowager countess was another man, presumably another of her sons. He didn't have her blue eyes like Bazyli and Jaskier, but there was enough of a resemblance for Geralt to make assumptions.

"May I present Lord and Lady Pankratz, Earl and Countess de Lettenhove," a steward stepped forward as the approached the dais. Geralt and Eskel stopped, one step behind Yennefer as she introduced herself.

"My name is Yennefer of Venderburg," Yennefer proclaimed, "I have needs to discuss a matter with the Earl and the Dowager Countess."

"Your reputation proceeds you, Yennefer of Venderburg, but I do not see what business you have here in Lettenhove. I have no need of a court mage, nor of a sorceress to do my bidding," The Earl replied dismissively.

"I have not come seeking such a position," Yennefer replied, "but I insist on having an audience with you and your lady mother. It is in your interests that this conversation remains private, I doubt that you would want it discussed here were we may be overheard by anyone, but if you wish I can diverge what I know right here."

The Earl blinked, and Geralt faught the urge to smirk, obviously it's been a while since he's been spoken to so…bluntly.

It's the countess…the younger one…that replied, perhaps sensing that a touch of diplomacy was needed. Indeed, the Earls face looked rather red, rather like a child's if they were about to have a tantrum…or like Lambert's when he was about to throw a table aside and hurl himself into a fight with one of the other Witcher's.

"We have a small audience chamber that we can use, if you like."

Yennefer turned to the countess, ignoring the Earl, "that sounds like an excellent idea, Lady Pankratz, thank-you."

The young Countess lead them into a small audience chamber just off the hall, where they were joined by the Earl, the Dowager countess and the other older man that Geralt guessed was one of Jaskier's other brothers. The younger man, presumably the Earl's son, was not present invited to join them, and Geralt could hear the man cursing about it as he stormed out of the hall via another exit. The dowager countess glared at Eskel and Geralt as she shuffled into a seat, heavily leaning on her walking stick and saying nothing, her lips pursed together angrily.

"Now…what was it you wanted to discuss?" the current Countess offered in a calm voice, although she looked more nervous than her voice betrayed, obviously a little out of her depth.

"It concerns a friend of ours…the bard Jaskier…or as you might know him…Julian Alfred Pankratz."

The Earl choked out a laugh, even as his wife's eyes widened comically, and the Dowager countess's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Jaskier's other brother snorted loudly in response to Jaskier's name.

"That runt…what about him? Has he gone and gotten himself killed? I'm not surprised, he always was more trouble than he was worth." The Earl chuckled, as if he had made some rather amusing joke, "I'm honestly surprised he hasn't gotten himself killed yet."

"Little shit would not ever shut up," his brother added, smiling and nodding in agreement. Eskel reached out and took a firm grip on Geralt's wrist, the touch a reminder not to do anything stupid.

"No, he's not dead," Yennefer replied, "although, as his friend, your concern, or lack thereof, for your brother's wellbeing is…frankly, concerning."

The Earl shrugged, "why should we care about the weakling. He was a waste of air, isn't that right Dominik?"

The other brother, Dominik apparently, nodded again, "he was no better than the peasants that live out there," he gestured towards a window, which offered a view of Lettenhove, "the only good thing about him was that he was always there whenever we wanted someone to beat up. After he got sent away, we had to start finding other people."

"And they weren't nearly as fun," the earl sighed, "I will say…little Julian was a tough little sod."

"He could take a beating and bounce back for some more after a day or two."

"But there was a reason for that, wasn't there, Lady Pankratz?" Yennefer asked, every tone simmering with barely repressed fury. Geralt noticed the way Yennefer's hands were balled into hists, and Geralt could feel his medallion vibrate just a touch, a sign that Yennefer's magic was barely being restrained. He reached out his own hand, just like Eskel had done for him, and gave her back gentle touch. Yennefer took a steadying breath, and the vibrations ceased.

Jaskier's mother, however, looked furious, "get out of this house, how dare you make such accusations. That little bastard means nothing to me."

"So you admit that the former Earl wasn't Jaskier's father."

A cruel smile crossed the dowager countess' face, "no…we planned it that way. There is no way my husband fathered that pathetic little worm. My bed was cold for months either side to make sure, but it was for nothing. We wanted a soldier, and we got a bard," she spat out.

"You didn't just want a solider, you wanted a Witcher."

"Mother?" The Earl's voice betrayed his surprise, giving away that he knew nothing of his mother's deeds, "is this true, did you betray father and bed a…a Witcher?"

Geralt noted the look on disgust on the man's face.

"Oh, don't be stupid, Bazyli," the dowager countess snapped, "your father was in on it, he helped me come up with the plan."

"So you don't deny it, Jaskier's father was a Witcher."

The Dowager Countess looked Yennefer in the eye, her hands curling onto the armrests on her chair like some sort of dangerous bird of prey, "Yes, Julian was the son of a Witcher, now get out of this house, before I have you all thrown out."

Geralt nearly stepped forward to say something, but Yennefer threw her hand out in front of him, holding him back.

"We will leave now," she told everyone in the room. Geralt nearly let his mouth fall open in surprise. Why were they giving up so easily? There was more they needed to find out, they still had no idea who exactly Jaskier's father had been, and Geralt was sure that Jaskier's family could have told them more. Yennefer shot him a piecing look, and Geralt kept his silence, fuming as they were shown out of the audience chamber. In the doorway, however, Geralt stopped and turned back, looking right at Jaskier's mother and brothers.

"Just so you know," he told them, "A few days ago Jaskier took on a Wyvern, a beast that has killed many Witchers. He did so without fear, wielding a blade that probably weighs almost as much as he does. The wound he inflicted would have killed the beast given time, and the only reason It didn't was because I lopped off its head before it could bleed to death. He did it all with no real Witcher training, and having not touched a blade for decades. You say that you wanted a Witcher, but got a bard. You're wrong, you were wrong to beat and bully and torture him, before casting him aside when he was a boy, and you're wrong now. Jaskier…Julian…is one of the best bards on the continent, he is famous. He has performed at Royal Courts and is respected by many a noble Lord and Lady. After what happened a few days ago… Jaskier might not be a real Witcher... but he's the next best fucking thing. He is, without a doubt, one of the greatest men I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and I am blessed and grateful to be able to call him my Friend. I would have him at my side in a fight any day, and if you couldn't see that, well, that's your fucking loss."

Geralt turned and strode out of the mansion, following Yennefer and Eskel back through the front entrance and back out onto the streets. None of them said nothing, although Geralt saw the smiles that Yennefer and Eskel were trying to hide from him.

Yennefer silently led them through the crowds until they came to an inn, and she entered the building, directing Geralt and Eskel to sit at a booth, while she ordered ale and some lunch for the three of them.

It was only when she rejoiced the Witchers that Eskel spoke, "That was fucking brilliant, Geralt. I wish I had a way of recording that. Lambert would love it, and probably Jaskier too…definitely Jaskier. It's more than I've heard you speak in a long time. I bet no one's ever given them a dressing down like that."

"I have to agree, Geralt, that was…rather eloquently out. I wonder if they're still sitting there in shock."

Eskel snorted at the image, and Geralt fought the urge to smile at their praise. Now wasn't the time to bask in their appreciation.

"Why did we leave, we already knew everything we learnt?"

"We weren't sure, but now we are," Yennefer replied, "and we left because I wasn't sure how long I could go without cursing the whole lot of them, and you two were doing little better. I don't think Jaskier would be pleased if we came back and he found out we'd murdered his entire family and he was now the Earl. As it is I wouldn't be surprised if the dowager Countess keeled over from the shock of being scolded by a Witcher."

"But where do we go now?" Eskel asked.

"We look for someone who might have known Jaskier, and his family back then, or was in town back then. They might remember a Witcher coming through, you aren't that common these days," Yennefer replied. Geralt and Eskel looked around, noticing the familiar curious, fearful, looks they were getting form the inn's other patrons.

The innkeeper brought over their ale on a tray and he passed out the mugs.

"I was wondering," Yennefer asked with a smile, "We're doing some research on Lettenhove, could you tell me where I might find some of the town's eldest inhabitant

"Other than Old Lady Pankratz? She's a mean one she is, as mean as she is old."

"Other than her," Yennefer nodded. The innkeeper paused thoughtfully.

"Oh, of course there's old Mathilde. She's got an excellent memory. She's retired now, she used to be the healer for the town, but now her niece has taken over the business and old Mathilde spends most of her time in her garden. She lives in a little house near the river. I buy flowers for my missus from her sometimes, when the coin is good, and sometimes she'll come in of an evening for a drink. A gin and tonic from time to time is good for the heart, she says. It must be true, she's nearly as old as Lady Pankratz, and she still gets around well. She's seen a lot, old Mathilde."

"Thank you," Yennefer smiled gratefully, sliding a coin over to the innkeeper, "why don't you get some flowers for your lovely wife."

"I will, m'lady, many thanks, your lunch will be along shortly" The innkeeper gave a short bow, grabbing the coin and moving to another table. Yennefer beamed as he walked away

"This is perfect," Yennefer told them, "Think about it, we know that Jaskier was seriously hurt, at least once, by his brothers, and even with his Witcher healing, he would have needed a healer's assistance. She was probably there when he was born too."

"Assuming she remembers." Eskel pointed out, "it was over forty years ago."

"It's the best we can do."

The Innkeeper soon brought out their lunch, and they ate quickly, all of them hungry having not felt like eating at breakfast (Geralt had been too nervous about the trip and finding more about Jaskier's past, and Eskel had been told how unpleasant travelling by portal could be by Ciri, so had decided to skip breakfast, just in case)

Geralt passed the innkeeper a few more coins on their way out once they had all finished, and they headed towards the river. The streets were quieter now, the morning rush over for the day, and despite the chill of the air it was almost pleasant.

Eventually they came across the former healer's little house, a building with a garden filled with flowering plants and healing herbs. Geralt recognised some in the plants as ones used in various Witcher potions. The house itself was made with the same grey stone as most of the other buildings of Lettenhove, weather beaten and worn, but still solid and serving it's purpose well.

Yennefer knocked on the house's green door and they stood, waiting. Geralt could hear a single heartbeat inside the house, slowly approaching the door, but he forced himself to think of Mathilde's age, and waited patiently. Eventually the door opened to reveal an elderly woman, her hair grey, her skin creased with smile lines, rather than the sever frown lines and wrinkles of the dowager countess.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" she greeted, her scent giving no sign of fear at the sight of Geralt and Eskel. Geralt wondered for a moment if she was blind, but no…the assessing look she'd directed right at his and Eskel's wolf medallions told him her eyesight was quite good.

"Would you be Mathilde?" Yennefer politely asked.

The old woman nodded, "Yes, I am,"

"We were wondering if you might be able to tell us about some things that happened in Lettenhove just over forty years ago?" Geralt asked.

Mathilde looked Geralt in the face, before taking in Eskel's scarred visage, before she nodded, "I wondered if this day would come. You better come in. I'll get some tea on. This might take some time."

Mathilde turned and led the way back into her home. Inside it was sparse, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and some comfortable looking chairs around a low table. Mathilde slowly shuffled her way over to a corner of the room that obviously served as her kitchen, where she began to make tea. Eskel gingerly sat in one of the chairs, only relaxing when it took his weight well, while Yennefer sat in another chair. Geralt, however, made his way over to the older woman and helped her with her kettle, setting it onto her stove for her.

"Oh, thank you, Sir Witcher, so kind of you. My arms aren't as strong as they used to be...here, could you carry this tray for me please?"

Geralt followed Mathilde's instructions, letting the old lady keep him busy until she was satisfied that she had fulfilled her obligations as hostess and everyone had a cup of tea to their liking, along with some fruit cake she had produced that was moist and flavoursome.

"Mathilde…you didn't seem surprised we were here," Yennefer initiated the conversation.

Mathilde sipped her tea, "I've been waiting for this moment for many years. Before we get into it…how is young Julian?"

"He…he was badly injured, but he's recovering well," Geralt replied, "How…how did you…"

"Know? We don't get Witchers here in town very often…I've lived here for over sixty years, and there's only been one other time we've had a Witcher pass through. Besides, I might be old, but I still go to the inn every now and then, my mother used to say that a nice gin and tonic every now and then did wonders for keeping the blood pumping. Young Julian was fond of the name Jaskier before he left to go to that temple school he was sent away to. He's never returned, but other bards have come through singing of a Wolf Witcher…the songs of the great bard Jaskier."

Geralt felt his cheeks tinge pink as Eskel snorted into his cup of tea. Mathilde noticed and gave Geralt a sly smile that looked almost teasing

Yennefer leaned forward curiously, "Mathilde, what happened the last time a Witcher came to Lettenhove?"