Chapter 2
A casual night had turned into a casual week. Before long Geralt had grown used to waking to Jutta's sleeping face next to him. He enjoyed life here. Far away from power mad emperors, scheming crimelords and the like. He did miss Dandelion and Zoltan, but knew they would still be at the Chameleon whenever he decided to return. For now, the Faroese routine of fishing in the day, and regaling locals with tales of witchering in the pub at night was a tonic for Geralt's weary soul. Sadly, the rain that accompanied their first night together had yet to relent any night since.
This particular evening the rain clouds were gathering again as Geralt steered his skiff past the mighty longships still docked in the harbor at Harviken. But storm clouds of another kind were gathering in the village as Jutta walked out onto the dock to meet him with a kiss.
"get at him the spineless cunt!" a large Faroese yelled from around a quickly forming circle.
Geralt and Jutta trotted quickly to burgeoning scuffle. As they approached they saw the Jarl using his black, and pale hand, to lift a council member named Ulric off the ground. "This is not the way it works Holger!" the man was struggling to say.
"It works however the fuck I say it works!" Holger snapped, and spat into the man's face to cheers and curses from his followers.
"And I say I don't give a frozen shit what that fiery bitch in Kaer Trolde thinks of how we survive winters" he finally released the man on to his backside.
"It's not what she thinks Jarl, it's what she'll do" the man risked with a placating hand.
"We survived Bran, I think we can survive her" a large red head man said from the half circle.
"Bran wasn't a new king when we raided Spikeroog, and he sure as shit didn't have to overcompensate for a pair of tits" the man answered as he rose to his feet and knocked the wet sand off his ass, and Geralt found a blossoming respect for the old man. "We hit Drummond territory and she'll bring everything she's got at us, and won't rest until she sees you in the Vigur" he added, referring to ice dungeon beneath Kaer Trolde.
Holger turned and started towards the man again. "Cut the shit Holger" Geralt said stepping between them.
"Out of my way Witcher. Putting your cock in a Faroe lass doesn't make you a Faroe man" he snapped as he tried to push past him.
Geralt put a hand on his shoulder and jerked him to a stop, which is when he heard the telltale sign of steel on steel as a dozen swords were yanked from their scabbard.
"Put em down boys" He heard Jutta say in her sing song way and he glanced to his right to see her holding her blade away from them but with a threat still indicated.
"Get your fucking hand off me" the Jarl said, quieter, but still with deadly menace.
"I will, just hear me out".
"I don't want to hear any of your continental bullshit about finding another way".
"No we need to raid, there's no way around that". Holger turned to him fully for the first time and Geralt released his shoulder. Within seconds swords started going back into scabbards and the immediate danger had passed.
"I've seen the food stores. These storms have ruined the season…I'm just suggesting we hit someone richer than the Drummonds" Geralt said loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Ay? Who? The fecking An Craites?!" came another voice from the gallery.
Geralt just shook his head and flashed a quick half smile to Jutta.
A half day later they were sailing a cross wind near a little unnamed spread of rocks just past the named uninhabited island of Sitla. The wind was produced a regular spray from the starboard side as Geralt grabbed Holger and walked him to the port side. Pointing to a half-submerged vessel Holger spoke up. "Ay! The Black Ones, their ship went down to Hjalmar two summers back. You better have something better than this white one".
"They didn't just lose their ship. They lost their men, swords, and their armor". He let that sink in as he leaned back over the balustrade. It took a minute, but then the Faroese had never been renowned for their intellectual pursuits.
"Ay…fucking ay! We'll hit Drummond dressed as Black Ones" he said slapping the gunnel next to Geralt. It took a minute to get half of it anyway Geralt thought as he turned to Clan Dimun's Jarl. "We'll hit the Black Ones dressed as Black Ones".
"Ay?"
"Ay" Geralt confirmed.
