"Master witcher, you have a guest"
"A guest?" asked Geralt. "I wasn't expecting anybody"
"I'm well aware sir, though the individual claimed to be a dear friend so I assumed it was best to ask you before shooing him away"
"Hmm. Ok BeeBee, take me to him"
"With pleasure. This way"
While following Barnabas he could not stop himself from hoping it was Ciri. More than a year had passed since they last met, and hearing rumors and tales from the merchants of Beauclair and Kovir about the ashen haired witcheress was just not enough anymore.
He missed her and wanted to see her, talk to her. How was her witcher life going? Was she happy? Had she been injured? Was she short on gold? Obviously, there was no real reason to worry about her as she had many times proved she could take good care of herself, but it was stronger than him.
He could imagine her running towards him, jumping into his arms and he spinning her around while smelling sweat, dirt and monster blood from her clothes and hair. Then he would ask her how…
"Geralt! Long time no see!"
"...Lambert? What are you doing here?"
"Yes, I'm great, thank you for asking! I'm too very happy to see you!" he said, pretending to sound offended.
"Sorry, I'm just very surprised to see you. Wasn't expecting you at all. To be honest when Barnabas told me I had guests I thought it to be Ciri."
"Thought or hoped?" he asked, teasing him.
"Both."
"Well, sorry to break your heart but it's just me, good ol' Lambert. I can't believe you have a fucking majordomo now! Damn!" Basil grimaced.
"It's good to see you. Come, let me take you to the house. We can talk inside." Geralt said, then turning to Barnabas he added "Thank you BeeBee, you may go. I'll be with him."
"If you will need anything, master witcher, don't hesitate to let me know."
Lambert followed the majordomo with his eyes, as he left with his distinctive clunky steps and arms held behind the back.
"An estate in the ever sunny Toussaint, an endless amount of booze, a sorceress in your bed and a majordomo with a funny name. Where do I sign up?"
Geralt started guiding Lambert towards the house, then replied smiling,
"You already have a sorceress in your bed so I'd say you're on the right path. How's Keira by the way?"
"She was fine last time I saw her." he said with indifference, then made a brief but awkward pause. "We parted ways"
"How so?"
"Rather not talk about it" he answered, doing his best to avoid Geralt's eyes.
"Fine."
He led Lambert inside and, knowing he wouldn't be too interested in a tour of the house, took him directly to the dining room.
"Here, let's have a seat. Wine?"
"I'm more of an ale guy, but sure, let's taste this wine of yours. Is Merigold here too by the way? Haven't seen her in a while."
They sat at the table, then Geralt ordered one of the servants to bring a bottle of Sepremento and two goblets.
"Yeah, probably upstairs talking to King Tankred through her megascope. We're supposed to be here on vacation but… Triss is a real workaholic" he said, shaking his head.
"Well, maybe she's just bored. I mean… suntanning, eating grapes and having sex all day might get old fast. For how long have you been retired? A year?"
"Yeah."
"And what do you do all day?" then, without giving Geralt the time to reply, he continued, "Don't you miss it? The adrenaline, the adventure, the damsels waiting to be rescued and ploughed..."
"Mh. You forget the monsters, the injuries, the peasants spitting on you..."
"Oh Geralt stop being a pussy! That's a price that is more than worth paying for living a life at its fullest."
"I can't believe this is coming from you. You're starting to sound like Dandelion. Didn't you hate being a witcher?"
"I do. But you love it."
The servant placed the goblets on the table and started pouring wine into them, then left.
"Alright, something tells me you didn't come all the way here just to rummage with me about the past and try making me feel miserable. What's your damn point?"
"You can't sit on your ass all day! I heard of the vampires almost destroying Beauclair. What will happen if they attack again and the mighty White Wolf is too rusty and fat to defend the innocents?" He grabbed one of the goblets, then with a dramatic voice and broad arm movements said: "I came all the way here to restore the White Wolf's power to its fullest!"
"What the heck are you talking about?" Geralt asked unimpressed.
"I just want to get you back in shape, fight a couple of monsters together, get the adrenaline back pumping into those decrepit veins of yours. I got a couple of contracts here in Toussaint and you're coming with me." Then he took the goblet to his mouth and finished it in a couple of gulps. "Mmh… Tastes like a grave hag's menstrual blood. Not bad."
Geralt took a sip of his wine.
"I'm not gonna ask how you know what that tastes like."
"And you shouldn't."
He started pondering his offer. As much as he hated to admit it, Lambert was right. Playing Gwent at the Clever Clogs Tavern, walking through the streets of Beauclair, making wine and harvesting herbs for Triss was nice and all but he missed the action. It was just for a couple of contracts, so was there really any reason to refuse? It's not like he was going back on the Path full-time. But he couldn't let him have it his way that easily. He had to tease him a little bit. He just had to.
"So you're saying that you came all the way to Toussaint with the noble and selfless intention to get me back in shape so that innocent lives can be protected in case of another attack?"
"Exactly"
"Shit Lambert, Keira dumping you must have really left you in shock." He laughed.
"Fuck you."
"Wow. Why so prickly when I mention Keira? What the hell happened between you two?"
"I said I didn't wanna talk about it, didn't I?"
"Fine, I'll drop it."
They sat there on the chairs, Geralt still sipping his wine and Lambert fidgeting with the empty goblet. The silence lasted for a minute that felt like an hour.
"So are we going or what?" Lambert finally asked.
He took his time to answer him, just to leave him hanging for a few more seconds.
"Yeah, ok."
"Hell yeah!" He slammed his fists on the table with excitement. "C'mon, I'll tell you more about the contracts on the way."
"Sure, gonna have to prepare my equipment first. It's been some time."
As both Geralt and Lambert stood, they heard light steps coming down from the stairs.
"Geeeeralt! I need some help with… Oh, Lambert! What a surprise!"
"Hey Merigold, long time no see."
"Yeah! What are you doing here?"
"Came to rescue an old friend from your dirty claws, of course."
"Oh, that's so nice of you." she said, smiling. "You guys going somewhere?"
"Lambert came with the noble intention of restoring me to my former glory."
"Meaning?"
"He picked a couple of contracts and asked me to come with."
"What? You got bored of me so you go chasing monsters again?"
"Relax Merigold, I'm just taking him to kill a bunch of drowners to get back in shape. Nothing that is going to wear out that love spell you cast on him."
"Wow Lambert, that was a low hit." Triss said, clearly hurt. Then she slightly raised her voice. "I have made mistakes in the past and Geralt has already forgiven me. Why do you have to bring that up? We are truly in love this time!"
Lambert, uncomfortable by Triss' dramatic reaction, raised his hands to a yield, then replied quickly
"Jeez… I was just kidding, no need to get so emotional about it."
"Triss, I thought you would have learned by now not to take Lambert's words seriously."
"Yes, I guess I should learn that." she said, her voice still full of pain. Then turned and went back up the stairs without looking at them.
The two witchers look at each other for a moment.
"Women." said Lambert, shrugging.
"Yeah," agreed Geralt. "Women."
Toussaint at dusk was breathtaking. The Sansretour was lazily reflecting a crimson sun, and the sky was doing its best to show as many warm colors as it could before the night could declare darkness.
The witchers were nearing the spot where the drowners were last seen at a slow trot, and the mill was now no more than a dozen meters away. Just the sight of it was evoking grim memories in Geralt's mind.
"Last time I was here I had to investigate one of Detlaff's murders. The victim was Count de la Croix, at the time owner of this mill. Poor bastard got his heart pierced, a bag of coins stuffed into his throat and his body quartered. The pieces thrown into the river."
"Yeah, that's life for you. One day you're a count, the next you're food for drowners. Who's this Detlaff by the way?"
"The high vampire who organized the attack on Beauclair."
"You fought an actual high vampire!? Can't believe you're still alive to tell me about it."
"Yeah, it wasn't easy. Especially after he transformed. For a moment I thought I wasn't gonna make it."
"And that only adds to why it is so important we get you back in form. Merigold will never forgive you if you kick the bucket."
They both dismounted, then Geralt asked:
"So drowners have started attacking merchants at night so close to the city? How did they get so bold?"
"They probably heard of your retirement and started celebrating." he answered, chuckling. "But they're gonna regret it deeply now that you're back in town."
"I'm not back. Just came to hold your hand so you're not scared of fighting a bunch of drowners alone."
"Thank you daddy."
With their witcher senses they easily spotted a group of four drowners who recently emerged from the waters, looking for a prey.
"I take the two on the left. You take the other two." Geralt said, unsheathing his silver sword. Lambert quickly followed suit.
"Let's do this."
While Lambert ran in a half circle to close the drowners on the other side, Geralt charged at the monster closest to him, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
The drowner noticed him, though a little too late. It tried to dodge but its arm was caught in the strike and it fell to the ground, twitching.
If there was something Geralt didn't miss, it was the stench of fresh drowner blood.
The monster cried in pain, then lunged at the witcher trying to claw him with its remaining hand, the other creature following.
He dodged the first attacker, then cast the Quen sign and kept himself exposed to the second monster's assault. The drowner, as predicted, hit Geralt. The sign exploded and sent the beast falling on its back a couple of meters away. He closed the distance as fast as he could and finished it off with a thrust in the guts.
"Really Geralt? Quen is for pussies!" Lambert shouted, while elegantly dodging the drowners' attacks. "Wanna see something cool? Watch!" He kicked the creature closest to him, stunning it for a moment, then charged the Axii sign for a full second before releasing it towards the other monster. A white foggy aura appeared around its head, and after a moment, it started slashing at the stunned drowner on the face. Its eyes and pieces of flesh flying off.
"This is the best part of being a witcher." He said, cracking up.
"You really enjoy doing that, don't you? You sick bastard."
"Geralt! Watch out!"
The one-armed drowner leaped at Geralt. He tried to parry the attack, but the unexpected might of the hit left him staggering for a couple of seconds.
"What the hell are you doing!?" Lambert shouted, "Drowners can't be parried! Have you forgotten!?"
The monster immediately slashed diagonally, aiming at both face and body.
Geralt dodged in time with his head but got hit on the chest, slightly tearing the armor and sending him with his back on the ground.
Lambert charged at the two drowners in front of him, one still attacking the other, and skewered them both with a thrust of his silver blade. The monsters made a horrible scream.
With his sword still in their guts, he slashed to the side, opening their insides. Blood and viscera gushed out, and a nauseating stench filled the air.
Geralt, still on the ground, saw the maimed creature jumping at him one more time. He quickly made the sign of Igni and sent the drowner back in flames. As quick as he could, he got on his feet and ran at the shrieking monster, slicing its head off.
He was panting. Folded. Hands on his knees.
"Geralt! Are you alright? What the hell happened to you!?"
"I… have… no idea..." he answered betweens gasps.
"Wow. I didn't expect it to be so bad. I mean, you tried to parry a drowner!? That was the first lesson on monster fighting! And why the hell are you breathing so heavily? You only fought two of them."
"I… know..."
While Geralt stood like that for a minute, catching air, Lambert went to his horse and fetched his waterskin.
"Here."
"...Thanks."
He drank avidly, still incredulous about the situation. At least the breathlessness was gone now.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Thank you. Really."
"Sure." Lambert seemed thoughtful for a minute, then added "I think it's the mutagens."
"What do you mean?"
"They strengthen our bodies and mind faster when we're under intensive training or on the Path, but..." he said, letting the words hang in the air.
"...they weaken us just as fast when we're being idle," completed Geralt for him.
"Something like that. But it's just a guess."
"Lambert, this is the only intelligent thing I ever heard coming from your mouth."
"Compliments from Geralt of Rivia to someone other than a woman he wants to plough? Now, that's something Dandelion should write a ballad about!"
They both chuckled.
"Alright. Time to go back home. We'll discuss my retraining there."
"After you."
Geralt woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of faint voices coming from outside the bedroom. He tried listening but he couldn't make out all the words.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, and I know how you must feel. But..." a feminine voice said. Triss. Who else could it be? There was a long pause.
"Please Triss… just for this once. And then I swear..." a man said. Then continued, but Geralt just couldn't make sense of the mumbling even with his witcher senses.
Triss raised her voice.
"Lambert... how dare you!? You come to our house unannounced, and then… this!?"
Geralt got out of the bed and went to them.
"Triss, is everything all right?"
"Geralt! … Yeah. Your friend here was just being… an ass. Like he usually is."
"Lambert, will you ever stop nagging her?"
"Nagging!? I merely asked her for help. To which she so righteously refused."
"Help?" Triss clicked her tongue.
"What the hell is this about?" Geralt asked, clearly confused.
"Nothing," the other witcher replied. "I'm off to bed. Goodnight." He stood up and left to the guest room, closing the door behind him.
"Care to explain?"
"I… I'm sorry Geralt but he made me promise not to tell anyone. I'm sorry" she said, looking at him straight in the eyes. Damn, he loved those eyes. They weren't violet, but they were warm and full of love, of everything he needed but never dared asking for.
"Alright, but if he's bothering you I can send him away."
"No, it's okay. Thank you." she smiled. "Let's go to sleep."
"We can go to bed... but we don't have to sleep," he said with a smirk.
"Mmmh… That's an offer no sane woman could ever refuse."
The smell of roasted pheasant and trout filled the house. The servants were busy serving the food and refilling the goblets of wine while the witchers were having at it.
Lambert spoke with his mouth full:
"Damn, Geralt. I'm starting to think it is worth retiring after all if you get to eat like this every day".
"Yeah, can't say I miss the food I ate when I was on the Path."
"I'm sure you don't!"
Geralt stared at him for some time, as he was taking large bites at the bird's succulent thighs, gulping wine to help it down.
"So about yesterday… " he started cautiously, "said you needed help. With what exactly?"
Lambert rolled his eyes.
"Like I said yesterday. Nothing."
"Come on, I just wanna help an old friend."
"Trust me. If you could help me I would ask you. But you can't."
"But Triss can?"
He didn't answer. "What is it? Business for sorceresses?" Lambert kept ignoring the questions and started removing the bones from the trout. "Wait a minute… does this have something to do with Keira?"
"Please Geralt, let's not ruin this luxurious breakfast. We have monsters to fight and you weren't doing too good yesterday. Let's just keep focused on what's really important here."
"You need help with something. That's important to me."
"You. Can't. Help. Me. Let's just drop this, ok? The fish is going cold."
They kept eating in silence for some time, then Lambert started: "So the contract. Some peasants claim they saw a couple of giant centipedes near the Casteldaccia Estate."
"Mmh. A little far. Couldn't you find a closer contract?"
"To be honest? No, but I tried."
"Alright. We can head there right after breakfast."
"About that. I have some unfinished business in Beauclair so I'm gonna take a little detour. Gonna meet you there though."
"How long is this business of yours gonna take?"
"A couple of hours. Then, from there to the estate, it should take me about two more hours by horse."
"I imagine you'll be taking the southern bridge."
Lambert nodded.
"Ok. Gonna be faster for me if I take the northern one and pass through Flovive. So see you there by midday?"
"Yeah," then they went back to eating and drinking till all plates were empty.
The streets of Beauclair were full of life and color as usual, and the sky couldn't be brighter.
"Excuse me, have you seen an ashen haired wom… Err… I meant a witcher?"
"A witcher?"
"Yeah, just like me. Yellow eyes, two swords strapped on the back, dressed like an outsider. Was around here an hour or two ago."
"Mmmmh… now that I think about it, I did see someone who looked rather peculiar. If I'm not mistaken he entered the perfumery over there."
"What the… the perfumery? Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm not sure! I don't spy people around. I'm not that bored. In fact I'm quite busy, so if you don't mind sir."
"Yes, of course. Thank you."
Damn this was getting weird. Lambert didn't show up at Casteldaccia and it turned out his business in Beauclair could have something to do with a perfumery? Well, at least there was only one lead to follow so he wasn't gonna waste too much of his time on this.
As he opened the door, a small bell rang. Luckily there were only two customers waiting to be served, so he figured he could skip the line if it was just for asking a question.
"Excuse me, I've been told a witcher came to you. Yellow eyes like mine, two swords strapped on the back."
"Sir, where are your manners?" the shopkeeper asked, scandalized, "I'm serving the lady here. And the man behind her is next."
"I know but I just need you to answer that question and I'll leave. Have you seen anyone like that?"
The merchant sighed at the witcher's utter lack of savoir-faire.
"Yes. He was here not long ago."
"Really? What did he come to do?"
"What every young man comes to do in my store, of course!"
Geralt raised an eyebrow.
"He bought a bouquet of flowers."
"He did wha…?" And before Geralt could finish, all the pieces fell into their place. Lambert departing from Keira, the joke he made about the love spell, the argument with Triss in the middle of the night, the fact that only a sorceress could help him, the flowers. So he traveled to Toussaint to see a woman. A woman he craved for, but who didn't reciprocate. Even though he suspected from the start that Lambert didn't come just to pay him a visit, it hurt a little. And then he burst into laughter. The shopkeeper and the customers stared at him as if he was completely out of his mind.
Still laughing uncontrollably, he left the shop and went to the stables.
As he entered Corvo Bianco he just couldn't stop thinking about the discovery. Was it right to use a love spell on someone? Should he try to talk him out of it? But first of all, who would have thought that he would live long enough to see Lambert make any effort for love, if that's what it was. On the other hand, what about his retraining? As it was obvious he needed one.
He wasn't sure he could do it alone though, since last time he almost got killed while fighting two miserable drowners, and…
He opened the house's door and heard a noise he wasn't supposed to hear. A moan.
Triss, he thought, Triss is hurt. She's hurt and she needs help.
He rushed to their room, where the noises were coming from and slammed the door open.
Geralt felt dying inside.
Lambert was there, thrusting his member rhythmically inside of Triss, who was bent over on their bed. Shocked, they jumped out of the bed, Triss blushing violently and Lambert muttering "Oh shit".
"YOU FILTHY SON OF A WHORE!" Geralt attacked Lambert with a right hook which was ducked. He took advantage of that by landing a strong knee to his chin, stunning him. Triss shouted. He grabbed the naked witcher's neck with his left hand and pinned him to the wall, then drew a dagger from his boot and placed it under his chin. Barnabas rushed into the room.
"Miss Merigold, is everything all ri… Oh, dear."
"Barnabas stay the fuck out of this! And don't let anyone into this room!" Geralt shouted.
"Y… yes master witcher." He left and closed the door. Now it was only the three of them.
"Geralt p… please... " said Triss with tears in her eyes, trying to cover her body with the blanket, "I… I can explain..."
"You better! Before I kill this piece of filth! How could you Lambert!? HOW!?"
Lambert was conscious, but remained silent, accepting what was coming to him. Then Geralt had a sudden flashback. He kept shouting.
"That night at Kaer Morhen when we played that stupid drinking game, I've never jumped out of a lover's window. You drank! You fuckin drank! Was that Triss' window? From her house in Vizima!? Were the footprints yours? That's how you know of her scars?" He slammed him into the wall again and Triss let go another shout. "Answer you piece of shit!" but Lambert had nothing to say. "How long has this been going on!?"
"Geralt..." Triss sobbed, crying worse than before "There's been nothing going on..."
"Then what the fuck do you call this!?"
"Back in Vizima… He just needed someone to vent to," her tears were coming down in streams, "I wanted to know what was the source of the bitterness gripping at his heart. Why was he always so harsh, resentful, cynical? I made him know he could confide in me… and so he did." Then Geralt saw a sight that shocked him more than any monster or foe he had ever encountered: a single tear falling from Lambert's blank eyes.
"He told me why he hated being a witcher," Triss continued between restless sobs "how he became one. Did he tell you Geralt? Did he tell you about his parents?"
He knew, but remained silent. Lambert had told him when they went to fill the phylactery in the Kaer Morhen Valley.
"He told me how he hated life," she said, choked with tears, "how he felt so alone. Hated by everyone for being someone he didn't choose to become. So I just wanted to console him. We had some wine… and then… I made a mistake. That night he fell in love with me because I was the only one who ever showed him any warmth and care. But we both knew in truth I was yours and yours only!"
She cried and fell on her knees, reaching for Geralt's hand.
"He knew too, and that's why he's been so harsh to me since then. He loved me but he knew I could never love him back. And then after we fought the Wild Hunt at Kaer Morhen he left with Keira, with hope in his heart that this time he could finally find what he needed most. But..."
Geralt felt paralyzed, numb. He did not know what to say nor what to feel, but his hand around Lambert's neck weakened.
"She just used him, and then threw him away..." she said in a whisper, "like a pair or used boots."
She took her face in her hands and kept crying. He had never seen so much empathy in a human being before. Was he supposed to feel his heart warmed? Was he supposed to feel like a fool? Betrayed? No, he just wanted to feel nothing at all. Nothing at all was better than whatever he was feeling right now: an indescribable and confused storm that was spinning without control.
"So he came here," she continued, "because..."
"I… wanted..." Lambert's words were coming choked out, "to feel loved… one last time."
Geralt couldn't move, couldn't think.
"I'm sorry Geralt… my friend."
Those were his last words as he pushed his neck towards the blade and slid across it.
